The trinket shop was open early merchants eager to ensure departing pilgrims had every opportunity to deepen their spiritual journey. We’ve gone partial pilgrim with the odd camino ring and nun-provisioned necklace but to go full pilgrim is truly tempting. I think i’m further down the road with the beard, but Di reckons wearing sandals evens things up. All kudos re sandals but I”m right back at her with the dunny trowel. Moving forward we’re looking for woollen hooded cloaks, narly oak or cherrywood walking staffs and leather satchels with rolled parchment calligraphied with latin spiritual quotations and some herbs picked from the forest to have with the wild boar strips drying on our backs. Too much? The trinket shop was low on hooded woollen cloaks and freshly speared boar but they did offer concrete Camino shell ‘stones’ for hauling of metaphorical burdens to Santiago. We were low on change so went for coffee and cake next door instead.
The path down the mountain from O Cebreiro started with a rise up into old habitat conifer forest. The forest floor is lush and verdant with splashes of morning sun lighting up the small white flowers scattered across the green. It seemed to go on forever mesmerizing us in the crisp clear morning.
Eventually the path met the road and led us down to a small agricultural town where we broke our fast. Rolling along the tops through farm and village, breathtaking vistas to the valleys below ever opening before us, we stopped only for water at a small cistern before rising up steeply to Pedrafita. Here a bar umbrella beckons tantalisingly from the top of the steepest pinch and we stop here with many others, for a break.
Two large mastifs were reclining out the front, shifting occasionally at the promise of food but otherwise ‘slothed out’, two small horses, breathing loudly with a deep growl-snore sound. Boss dogs.
Passing a bull paddock I walked to the fence to get a better picture. The young bull had other ideas and charged me. Fence or no it got my blood racing. The bull stood guard, head bowed, hoof scraping the dirt as I slowly backed away.
It was such a stella day with such delightful views as we wound down the mountain, that it seemed a shame to hurry and we stopped twice more at little villages for coffee (and lastly wine) tarrying awhile just to breath it all in. We must’ve stopped two dozen times to take photos. I could’ve skipped with delight if I wasn’t so manly and macho.
At one stage I turn, a little shocked to see Di splayed out on the grass, realizing instead, that she was going for the definitive wild mountain orchard shot. Cue David Attenborough voice over, “The rare purple mountain orchard, flowering every seventh year, six days before the summer solstice, for a matter of minutes only, here under the dappled light of a european chestnut tree, miraculously captured for the first time ever……”
The last kilometer or so into Triacastela is truly stunning. A veritable tunnel of chestnut trees, their huge bulky trunks thrust out from mossy banks, form a sunlit green arbour over a winding rocky path. Where the path ends, an 800 year old monster of a chestnut tree stands sentinel over the towns entrance.
Atrio, our albergue for a couple of nights, is an original stone building rebuilt after collapsing in earthquakes in the 70s and 90s. The front door with folding timber shutters opens to the bar and cafe. Stairs rise up from the cafe into a kind’ve indoor tree house catacomb of rooms and landings. Where the old beams meet at the top of the cathedral ceiling there’s a steel plate running the length of building with stars cut out and covered with perspex creating a ‘night sky’. Our room overlooks a grass courtyard with tables and chairs abd some small shade trees. Atrio has a really nice feel to it.
We grab dinner at Esther up the road before calling it a day.
We’re here two nights and enjoy sleeping in. It’s warmer now down off the mountains and we’re going to need to start getting up early again to beat the heat.
We spent most of the day hanging out in the court yard reading and catching up on admin. It’s fun to see the phases of the day; coffees and breakfasts as the morning waves of pilgrams come through, quiet till early afternoon then intense business as the pilgrims poor in for lodgings at day’s end.
Bishnu (not sure if that’s right) runs the place on commission with a friend who owns it. He’s short, dark skinned with short black hair, clad permanently in tracky dacks and T-Shirt, is missing most of his top front teeth and has piercing dark eyes that scan you like a laser for anything that might help navigate the many languages he speaks. Bishnu explains that, time and booze running multiple restaurants in Barcelona, ended his marriage which lead to more drink then finally to an accident (DUI we think) which got him into big trouble. He was going to start afresh in Switzerland but his friend, who’d bought Atrio, had a heart attack from which he’s still recovering. Bishnu has remained to support his friend. He cooked us a cracker Nepalese chicken curry with Daal and rice.
There was a moment of excitement during the day when a police helicopter circled thrice and landed in a nearby paddock disgorging two officers onto the grass. According to Bishnu there’s a professional thief about and they believe he’s nearby. He worked the Camino last year too, dressing as a pilgrim and going through people’s bags. We’d heard just the other day a couple had been cleaned out.
Tomorrow onto Sarria and the start of the popular 100 miles to Santiago de Compostella. Should interesting.
