Stage 17 – Castrojeriz 19.5km / 325km

There are lots of people doing the Camino, an inescapable consequence of the planet’s population (and movies like ‘The Way’). The ancient ‘way’ was to walk and stop when you’re done, seeking refuge in the churches, halls and albergues on the road, first come first serve. Now, technology has facilitated advanced bookings and most places are full before anyone’s arrived. There’s lots of walking to the next village (to find a bed) or even cabbing to the next village and cabbing back the next morning to start out anew.

For singles it’s perhaps a little easier, for couples we’ve found it’s good to book well ahead. There seems to be a suite spot about five to seven days out so we’re maintaining that buffer. We’ve done a couple of ‘just rock up’, but it’s quite stressful at the end of a day’s walk wondering whether you’ll get a bed or not. Not a disaster if you don’t, just a pain in the arse…so we’re going with the soft option.

To that end, this evening, the terrace of our lodgings, Iacobus, bathed in afternoon sunlight, looks out over the Meseta and the village of Castrojeriz. Our German friends can’t get in, and find an albergue they don’t like down the road. At least they found a bed. We’re glad we booked.

Iacobus is awesome! We arrive at the end of a Melbourne day, cold, rain, sun, warm, rain etc. The owner is also the receptionist, waiter, cook and barmaid (with other staff). We don’t know whether it’s just a normal Sunday or some function, but the terrace bar-and-restaurant is packed. We get Anna’s attention but it’s clear she’s flat bicky. We doff our packs and grab a wine – no problem. In the midst of the melee, Anna takes a moment to calmly sit with us, explain the stuation (shes busy), welcome us and give us the key to our room, “we’ll sort out check in and payment tomorrow.” Nice.

We’re here for two nights, a lay day, to rest our bodies. We’d no expectations but the room is awesome, with a little balcony overlooking the town. We reflect on the days walk over a dinner of chicken breast (Di) and chorizo and eggs (Jeff), and a salad.

It was cold today, twelve maybe, but below that, perhaps ten in the wind and rain. Warmed by sun and blue sky we climbed up out of Hornillos onto the plateau where the clouds rolled in bringing intermittent rain. Up and down the road people were pulling up to don ponchos and jackets. One couple had umbrellas sticking out the top of their packs like xxxx the gadget man.

We drop down into Hontanas and everyone is looking for refuge and a feed. The cafe queue is long but fast and soon enough we’re seated under an umbrella gulping mugs of hot coffee and chowing down on tortilla. There’s plenty of holas and buen caminos to people we’ve met along the way. We talk with two French and Spanish men from Nice and Mont Saint Michelle who have done the Le Puy-en-Velay camino. They’re passionate about it and show us their photos. It looks awesome, beautiful French villages on impossibly picturesque mountain sides. We’re good with Spain for now but….

It’s all verdant undulating wheat fields till the convent ruins some 4km out of Castrojeriz and we stop for photos. A little later we take a siesta on a grassy bank under a tree before the last few ‘k’s home.

A kilometer out of town the rain hits us again, heavy and blowing from the South. As we enter Castrojeriz, the paved roads are awash and our boots sodden. Just as suddenly the sun’s out and we find ourselves amidst a vibrant, sunlit terrace party at Iacobus – like none of the muddy wheat fields experience ever happened. Sureal.

I write whilst the barman and two mates watch Real Madrid beat Spain two nil. Probably not the result they were looking for but they close up shop in good cheer nonetheless. I count one hundred and twelve wind turbines from the balcony before I turn in.