Everyone dreads "The Meseta".
Not me.
Sept 4, 2019
Burgos to Hornillos del Camino
21 km, 32,000 steps, walking day #14
Breakfast at the Hotel Meson del Cid was spectacular. I wish I could have had it all.
Three kinds of breads, 4 kinds of pastry (including chocolate pastry puffs!), cakes, chocolate donuts, eggs, meats, cheeses, my beloved patata tortilla, four kinds of juice, 4 kinds of milk, two coffee machines, and.....wait for it.....champagne on the juice bar! How, and more importantly, Why, would you say "no thanks" to that?? There's no acceptable answer to that question, so I went ahead and had a sip for the road. Gotta celebrate every day, right?
The road out of Burgos led through the university campus. It's green and lovely and all the roads have dedicated two-lane bike lanes separate from the street. The campus and the city soon ended, and abruptly (and thankfully) I found myself in countryside again. The Meseta. Mostly flat, mostly straight, the Meseta is an expanse of farm fields that may take six days to cross. With the warnings of no shade and minimal sources of water, some people choose to bike or bus these "boring" plains. But I made a promise and I will walk every step.
I loved walking the beginnings of the Meseta today. I listened to the wind in the grasses as I walked. The sky was huge and deep blue. The peace was palpable. The mind has no choice but to clear. Thoughts and ideas have time to form and bubble up to the surface. Entertainment comes in the form of watching birds hanging in the wind currents or creating art on the path.
In a very small meseta town called Rabe de los Calzadas, there were two churches. I chose to visit the tiny church just past the big one. As I entered, a nun greeted me. The church, as all churches I have visited in Spain was dark and cool. She had a place to sit just inside the door of the church. She was offering stamps for the pilgrim's passport, if anyone wished. I declined as I had a stamp for the day already. She walked up to me, and spoke to me in Spanish. I could tell it was warm and meaningful. I think she blessed me. I certainly felt blessed. She held my face with her cool, smooth hands, she thanked me and wished me a bueno camino. She said the words with so much love and gratitude, I felt to me like I was the only person to whom she would ever have the chance to say those words, and she wanted to use everything in her heart to say them. Then she placed a tiny medallion on the thinnest of threads around my neck. Discounting the religious aspect, I consider myself so fortunate to have had this experience, and I'm so grateful that I chose the tiny church to visit.
The day closed with the usual descent down into the town. Almost all the towns are down in a valley. You can appreciate this when you're at the apex of your day and you can see all the towns around, deep in the valleys. Were they all built this way for water? Protection? Farming on the river floodplains? Probably all of the above. The descent into Hornillos del Camino even had a name: Cuesta de Matamulos which means Mule Killer. It's a curvy descent of 125m of elevation over the distance of about one kilometer. Rather call it Knee Killer.
In Hornillos del Camino I stayed at the Hostel del Sol a Sol. There's a huge poster of the movie "The Way" in the foyer. It stars Martin Sheen and was produced by his son Emilio Estevez. It's about the camino - the way of St. James. My host asked me if I had seen the film. Yes. My host asked me if I knew why Martin Sheen had made the film. No. The answer ensued.
Martin Sheen, his son Emilio Estevez and Emilio's son Taylor were travelling through this region. At some local event Taylor met my host's sister. They eventually married. Taylor loved the region and the camino so much that he convinced his father Emilio Estevez and his grandfather Martin Sheen to make the movie "The Way." Pretty cool. I'm now 5 degrees of separation away from Martin Sheen!
After a rest I walked around town a bit, and did some laundry which I hung on the line in my host's back yard. I walked across the street to a tiny grocery store and bought a beer, and took it "home". I sat in the shade in my host's backyard enjoying my beer, writing, and watching my laundry dry in the Spanish breeze.
How lucky am I?
Not me.
Sept 4, 2019
Burgos to Hornillos del Camino
21 km, 32,000 steps, walking day #14
Breakfast at the Hotel Meson del Cid was spectacular. I wish I could have had it all.
Three kinds of breads, 4 kinds of pastry (including chocolate pastry puffs!), cakes, chocolate donuts, eggs, meats, cheeses, my beloved patata tortilla, four kinds of juice, 4 kinds of milk, two coffee machines, and.....wait for it.....champagne on the juice bar! How, and more importantly, Why, would you say "no thanks" to that?? There's no acceptable answer to that question, so I went ahead and had a sip for the road. Gotta celebrate every day, right?
The road out of Burgos led through the university campus. It's green and lovely and all the roads have dedicated two-lane bike lanes separate from the street. The campus and the city soon ended, and abruptly (and thankfully) I found myself in countryside again. The Meseta. Mostly flat, mostly straight, the Meseta is an expanse of farm fields that may take six days to cross. With the warnings of no shade and minimal sources of water, some people choose to bike or bus these "boring" plains. But I made a promise and I will walk every step.
I loved walking the beginnings of the Meseta today. I listened to the wind in the grasses as I walked. The sky was huge and deep blue. The peace was palpable. The mind has no choice but to clear. Thoughts and ideas have time to form and bubble up to the surface. Entertainment comes in the form of watching birds hanging in the wind currents or creating art on the path.
 |
| Korean pilgrims writing with stones: "Bueno Camino" in Korean |
In a very small meseta town called Rabe de los Calzadas, there were two churches. I chose to visit the tiny church just past the big one. As I entered, a nun greeted me. The church, as all churches I have visited in Spain was dark and cool. She had a place to sit just inside the door of the church. She was offering stamps for the pilgrim's passport, if anyone wished. I declined as I had a stamp for the day already. She walked up to me, and spoke to me in Spanish. I could tell it was warm and meaningful. I think she blessed me. I certainly felt blessed. She held my face with her cool, smooth hands, she thanked me and wished me a bueno camino. She said the words with so much love and gratitude, I felt to me like I was the only person to whom she would ever have the chance to say those words, and she wanted to use everything in her heart to say them. Then she placed a tiny medallion on the thinnest of threads around my neck. Discounting the religious aspect, I consider myself so fortunate to have had this experience, and I'm so grateful that I chose the tiny church to visit.
The day closed with the usual descent down into the town. Almost all the towns are down in a valley. You can appreciate this when you're at the apex of your day and you can see all the towns around, deep in the valleys. Were they all built this way for water? Protection? Farming on the river floodplains? Probably all of the above. The descent into Hornillos del Camino even had a name: Cuesta de Matamulos which means Mule Killer. It's a curvy descent of 125m of elevation over the distance of about one kilometer. Rather call it Knee Killer.
 |
| Local resident resting in Hornillos del Camino |
Martin Sheen, his son Emilio Estevez and Emilio's son Taylor were travelling through this region. At some local event Taylor met my host's sister. They eventually married. Taylor loved the region and the camino so much that he convinced his father Emilio Estevez and his grandfather Martin Sheen to make the movie "The Way." Pretty cool. I'm now 5 degrees of separation away from Martin Sheen!
After a rest I walked around town a bit, and did some laundry which I hung on the line in my host's back yard. I walked across the street to a tiny grocery store and bought a beer, and took it "home". I sat in the shade in my host's backyard enjoying my beer, writing, and watching my laundry dry in the Spanish breeze.
How lucky am I?
Still loving your blog! Just told a friend in New Zealand that we should consider doing this together one day, although we would need to really train for it. Love your stories about people and your pictures of breakfasts. Fascinating that Franco references have been removed already. (I compare to what happens with Stalin in Russia and pro-slavery leaders in America, where monuments are still up for them.)
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