Camino Tips: Check the Free Box 2018

One of the best Camino Tips I can give you is this one:

Check the Free Box!

Almost every albergue has a Free Box. 

The Free Box is a box that contains items 

pilgrims dump when they realize 

bringing everything from home except the kitchen sink 

wasn't such a great idea. 

Sometimes it is a cardboard box out for everyone to see. 

Sometimes it is a shelf on the wall. 

Sometimes it is hidden in a closet behind lock and key. 

If you don't see it and you need something, 

ask!

Why do people dump things in the Free Box, you ask?

Pretend you've begun walking 

and your pack is heavier and heavier as the days go by.  

You begin to take items out and look at them and say, 

"Do I really NEED this?"  

(This is all part of being a pilgrim, so don't feel guilty).  

You make a pile of things that really, 

you can live without.  

You realize that you really didn't need to bring 

that heavy novel or that can opener, 

or the blow up mattress or the 3 fleece shirts, 

or the extra socks, 

or the 12 pair of underwear.

What do you do with this "stuff?"  

You could mail it home, 

but that would probably cost more than it's worth.

You could throw it in the trash... 

but please don't.

Instead, ask the hospitalera to put it in the Free Box. 

Someone will surely come along who needs it, 

and this is one way

"The Camino Provides."

It's always a good thing to check the Free Box 

as you walk along the Camino, also. 

You may find things you didn't know you needed!

Things I've picked up from the Free Box include the following:

A hydration system - complete with tubing and bite valve found on the road

A nice featherweight fleece shirt

A sports bra - mine broke!

A pajama top - used for sun protection

A handkerchief - used for peeing along the trail then washed with the day's laundry

A microfiber towel - I thought I'd like it better than my old worn out terrycloth-towel, but I didn't

A guide to albergues along the way - complete with notes!

Some German Dr. Scholl's type foot cream that saved my feet on the Aragones Route

Things I've left in the Free Box include:

My sleeping pad - I saw more of these than any other item in the box

A jacket - too heavy to carry

A pair of wool socks

A rain hat

A cheap poncho

Other items I can't recall - seems I was dropping weight daily!

Oh yes, my guide to the Via de la Plata which I'd sure love to have back if someone found it. It was specially spiral bound and left at the Convent in Leon!

Zip off trousers  

Things I've SEEN in the Free Box are too many to mention, 

including sleeping bags, pads, knives, stoves, 

camping dishes, tents, boots, all types of clothing, 

and on and on and on...

So... when you are doing your last minute check 

of the gear you're going to take... 

and you run across an item 

and are not sure if you need it or not... 

ask yourself this question:

Am I willing to spend the $$ it will take to mail this home?

Or will it end up in a Free Box!?

Then walk away and leave it ...

If you need it, you can be sure it will show up again along the Way.

Learn to live and step lightly on the earth!

Buen Camino!

* * *

Note:  If you are interested in walking the Camino Santiago, 

but are not quite ready to go it alone, 

consider joining Annie

on one of our small, affordable Camino walks. 

For more information see our website 

at this link: AnnieWalkers Camino

The Aragones Route - Ruesta to Sanguesa to Monreal

On October 15, I walked 21 kilometers to Sanguesa.

I walked alone. 

The French couple and Andrew, the American man 

were sleeping in and waiting for breakfast.

I was anxious to get on the trail.

It was a beautiful misty morning as I walked through the ruins,

over the old bridge spanning the river, 

and past a campground. 

A deep rumbling snore broke the silence.

One lonely tent, bright orange, was pitched under the pines.

Another other pilgrim was getting some morning sleep.

After a while, I began climbing. 

The dirt road wound around and switched back for a little over 7 kilometers, 

up through a pretty pine forest.

The air was crisp.

The birds were singing.

The sun felt good on my head.

It was very lonely but happy walking 

and I didn't see a soul the entire morning.

Once at the top of the hill, I found myself on a plateau 

with a spectacular view of the valley below.

Photo by Traveltroll

After passing the little town of Urdiales,

I passed through fields, plowed and ready for winter.  

The plowed fields and the smell of cows 

reminded me of the San Joaquin Valley where I was born. 

The scent was comforting. 

I've laughed in the past when Joe has held his nose

when we pass through farmland.

To me, the smell is the smell of home.

I love it.

I jokingly call it "Portagee Perfume!"

The wheat in these fields had been harvested, 

and all that was left to see was a golden stubble.

After a while a cold wind began blowing.

It blew straight on from the direction I was walking, 

and with it came sharp grains of sand.  

The sand burned my face and got into my eyes.

There was no way to avoid it!

I wrapped my head with a scarf, 

like a desert man,

with only my eyes showing.

I walked bent over, the top of my head to the sandstorm, 

and prayed for some safety glasses,

remembering how my prayers for a water bladder had been answered.

Today, God wasn't in a giving mood. 

I was so happy to see Sanguesa!

The albergue was easy to find.

There was a note on the door, 

telling people to choose a bed.

The hospitalero would return later to collect the money.

Sanguesa has a nice little albergue. 

The beds weren't shoved too tightly together 

and there were windows at each end of the room. 

I chose a bed behind a wooden screen so I'd have at least a small bit of privacy.

I showered and washed my clothes.

I didn't think they'd dry this night, as it was quite cold.

I found some drying racks and hung the clothes next to the heater. 

I kept my fingers crossed. 

There's nothing worse than cold, damp clothes on a cold, damp morning!

Soon, other pilgrims began arriving.

First the French couple, 

then Andrew. 

Then a young German pilgrim with a foot injury.

We asked around and found a pilgrim clinic where he was able to see a doctor. 

Turns out it was a strain. 

They wrapped it up and gave him ibuprofin 

and advised him to stop walking for a few days. 

I'm not sure he did that.

Many pilgrims injure themselves by pushing too hard,

trying to walk too many kilometers or walking too fast.

It's best to savor the Camino the same way one should savor life.. slowly. 

There's no rush. 

Not even for beds. 

The Camino will provide.

It has proven itself over and over.

The kitchen here was well equipped.

We three M's made a collective trip to the market

and cooked dinner in. 

It was so good to just stay inside, 

out of the cold wind, and visit, 

sharing food and wine with other pilgrims,

learning more about each other and about our journeys. 

I learned the French couple were on their second Camino. 

I learned Andrew was on his first Camino.

He was having difficulties with his bank. 

For some reason they were holding his cash 

and he was really having to watch his euros!

The hospitalero arrived and informed us

 once the wind began in that region, it persisted. 

He felt we would be foolish to walk the next day. 

He told us we'd be walking straight into the sandstorm.

We chose to take a chance.

The next morning the 3 M's left for Monreal. 

Michelle and Michael and Myself. 

The wind was howling and it didn't take long

for us to realize the hospitalero had been right in his assessment.  

We made it as far as Monreal. 

There, we found shelter in the bar, 

had coffee and reassessed our plans.

Learning there was a bus leaving in one hour 

that would hook us up to the Camino Frances.  

We decided to catch that bus.  

A 1.50 Euro bus ride ended my few days on the Aragones.

Once again I was unable to complete my journey.
It's beginning to feel like a pattern.

I still need to complete the VDLP, the Norte,and the Aragones.
What is it with me and these incomplete Camino routes?
Are they just excuses for me to return to Spain?
Perhaps...
I am most definitely in love with that country and its people.

At any rate, I can't wait to go back and walk it again. 

Next time I'll start at the beginning and walk all the way to Eunate. 

Next time...a familiar Pilgrim phrase...
NEXT time...

The Camino is funny that way. 

You arrive at Santiago exhausted and thankful to be going home. 

You think, "Ok.. so that was fun, but I will NEVER do this again!"  

Then next morning you wake up with no place to walk and it just doesn't feel right.

It bothers you a little. 

But, you have a flight to catch.  

Once home, your friends notice a difference.

What happened to you out there? 

What do you mean you're selling everything?

What do you mean you don't need 3 cars and 5 televisions?!  

What do you MEAN you're throwing away those high heels

and that bottle of expensive perfume!?

Then, 2 weeks later, 

you are planning your next walk. 

It just hits you... you MUST return! 

You think I'm kidding?

::laughing::

Ok.. call me 2 months after your Camino 

and we'll chat about it over a beer.

See my AnnieWalkersCamino website at 

Anniewalkers Camino

for more information about

Guided Walks on the Camino Santiago 

and on other Pilgrimage Trails of Europe

The Aragones Route - Arres to Ruesta

On the morning of October 14, I left at dawn.

Looking back over my shoulder at the village of Arres

was like looking back through time with the old stone buildings

sitting like jewels on the top of the hill.

Photo by Journeyman13

One of my favorite times to walk is dawn. 

Watching the sun rise over the mountains in the still of the morning is healing to me.  

I stopped off at the bar on my way out of town. 

They were open for coffee, and I bought a bocadillo de tortilla for the road.

The night before I asked Felix, the hospitalero at Arres,

how far it was to Artieda.

He told me it was 18 kilometers. 

My guidebook said 15 kilometers. 

I would bet money that Felix was right!  

The guidebooks often fail.

So this day I simply put one foot in front of the other, 

followed the yellow arrows, 

and eventually I knew I would arrive in Artieda.

 

Artieda sits at the top of a hill where in the 12th century 

there stood a castle. 

The road goes up an around, up and around 

and it is quite a hard climb. 

The road in Artieda is beautiful, and all done in stone.

Photo by jemonbe

Following the arrows to the very top, 

I found the albergue and restaurant.

The lady in charge was not very friendly as she showed me my bed. 

(although her son was friendly)

She roughly barked at me not to put my backpack on a chair. 

She gestured and pointed!

She wanted it on the floor. 

I'm sure this is because of the bedbug problem,

and I wouldn't think of putting my mochila on the bed, 

but I'm also not going to put it on the floor. 

I told her I'd keep it with me

and kept in on my shoulders. 

She wasn't happy. 

The charge for staying was 10 Euros.

The rooms were dark, and didn't really look clean.

I saw no sign of other pilgrims here.

 I was hungry and they were serving food in the restaurant. 

The Menu del Dia was $9 and it smelled pretty good, 

so I asked to be seated. 

Instead of seating me in the main dining room with other patrons,

she put me in a corner back in a dark room 

and handed me the same menu the others were reading. 

I thought, "ok, she's treating me like a pilgrim, 

and I AM a pilgrim, so I will be thankful." 

Soon, another weary pilgrim came to the door.

He asked if he could fill his water bottles.

Her son started to take the man's water bottles,

but the woman screamed at him, and refused.

She literally chased him off! 

WHAT?

That was enough for me!  

What a shame this shrew-like woman

could ruin the ambiance of such an ethereal place!

I had no desire to spend any more of my money here. 

I paid my bill, picked up my mochila, 

and walked out.

She glared at me as I literally shook the dust from my feet, 

as the Good Book instructed the apostles.

As weary as I was, I continued my walking 

down, down, back down the hill and on to Ruesta,

hopefully to find more friendly digs.

All along the path I kept seeing signs saying, "Yesa, No!"

I thought, "What the heck does this mean?"

 

In Ruesta, I discovered the answer.

A note to those traveling this path:

As you approach Ruesta,

you find yourself following the trail through a sort of tunnel of vegetation. 

After an hour of fighting the mosquitoes in the tunnel,

I decided to break out

and was thrilled to find a road running parallel 

to the left of the pilgrim path

OUTSIDE the buggy tunnel. 

I followed this dirt farming road all the way to Ruesta, 

happy and bug-free!

There I met a nice hospitalero 

and drank beers with a biker dude named Antonio. 

He was a real character. 

He wore a denim vest, one earring, and some of his teeth were missing. 

Reminded me of the Hell's Angels of my childhood.

But he was a sweet and friendly guy.

He was also the local Bard, and knew a lot about the history of Ruesta. 

A Bit of History:

Ruesta is situated in the province of Zaragoza, in the high part of the Cinco Villas region, at the gates to the Pyrenees in Huesca and Navarra.

From the year 850, the kings of Navarra, to control and defend the territory annexed, had to build a castle in this central and strategic position. Between 905-925 Ruesta appears in historical documents as a Royal Headquarters,  defending the zone between Yesa and Arrés. Although a lot of authors attribute a Muslim origin (911) to the construction of the castle of Ruesta, they have confused Ruesta with the castle of Cercastiello (known like Rueita or Royta) of similar name.

The castle was destroyed by Almanzor in the bitter campaign of 999. Between the years 1016 and 1018, the monarch Sancho III reconstructed the castle of Ruesta. In his will (1035), it appears as one of the four main defensive enclaves of Aragon (beside Samitier, Petilla and Loarre), conceded to his successor to the throne. In 1056 the King of Navarra conceded Ruesta to Ramiro I. It is documented as headquarters of royal possession between the years 1024 and 1190.

Between the 11th-13th centuries, Ruesta became a city-market, endowed with an important Christian and Hebrew community devoted to regional and border trade. Ruesta had four churches and two hospitals for pilgrims, founded all by the Navarro and Aragonese monarchs.

In 1098, the King appointed to the the Jews of Ruesta a special tribute, called the Lezda de los Judios. Before 1249, the Hebrew community was concentrated in the neighborhood of the castle, with the obligation to keep the fortress in good condition. In 1294, they guarded and administered the castle and the oven, earning their incomes from those oven, and soon created a monopoly. In 1381, their positions were taken away and given to Spanish people. The Jewish community was extinguished  in 1492, by means of expulsion or forced conversion.

This forced conversion was interesting to me, 

as it is a well-known fact that the Jews who converted to Catholicism in Iberia 

were given "tree" names. 

My last name, Carvalho, means "oak." 

If my last remaining paternal uncle were willing,

I suspect we'd find Jewish roots in our DNA.

The village of Ruesta fell victim to the numerous and destructive invasions 

that affected all of Spain in the 12th-15th centuries, 

and in1381 the king Pedro IV sold Ruesta to Pedro Jordán of Urriés 

(Lord of Ayerbe and of Sigüés) 

along with the castles and places of Artieda, Pintano and Osia. 

This sale was revoked (temporarily) in 1385. 

In 1412-1416, the last known warden of the castle was Sancho Escudero, 

who earned his income by baking in the common oven.

In the 19^th century, Ruesta boasted 100 houses of families 

who farmed the fertile land along the river below the village. 

There is at least one historical medieval hospice known to have been here,

associated with the Iglesia San Jacabo. 

Beyond the bridge at the exit of Ruesta was a fountain called the Fuente de Santiago.   

 The Romanesque rural paintings that were once in the church here,

are now held in the museum at Jaca. 

Walls of the military castle still stand 

and you can see the arrow slits along the sides.

You can also see Coats of Arms 

on what remains of the mansions belonging to 5^th – 19^th Century Nobility.

In 1959, the village was abandoned 

when the construction of the Yesa reservoir caused the flooding 

of the agricultural land on which the local people depended for their livelihood. 

It was a terrible hardship for many families

who still remember the move with anger.

From the Tourism website:

In June 1988 the Confederación Hidrográfica del Ebro (The Ebro Waterways Confederation) gave the Confederación General del Trabajo de Aragón (General Work Confederation of Aragón) permission to use Ruesta. This agreement formed part of the CHE’s policy for the recuperation of villages that were abandoned following the construction of reservoirs. 

In November 1992 the agreement was extended for a further 50 years. Apart from the urban centre, the agreement includes several hundred hectares of land around the village.

The CGT in collaboration with The Aragonese College of Architects carried out a rehabilitation programme in various stages. In August 1993 the first phase was concluded in the centre with the recuperation of a building, the old Casa Valentín, which was to be used as a hostel. In 1995 a second hostel was opened in Casa Alfonso. Both hostels form part of the Camino de Santiago network.

In the year 2000 the centre for the study of the Camino de Santiago was opened. Amongst other things, you can see a study of the flora and fauna of the area. A cultural centre was also opened in the same year. There are meetings room, rooms for audiovisual presentations and a library. 

On the banks of the river there is a camp site with 16,000 square metres and a capacity of 200 people. It is completely covered by trees and surrounded by vegetation. The camp site is crossed by an old Camino de Santiago route and you can see the remains of stone cobbles and a bridge over the river. The village also has a bar, a shop and terraces where you can enjoy wonderful views. 

The proximity of the Yesa reservoir and the possibilities to go on excursions in the surrounding area and nearby valleys make Ruesta a good base from which to explore nearby places of historical interest such as Sos del Rey Católico and Uncastillo. You can take a short trip on foot or by bicycle to the nearby hermitage of Santiago de Ruesta, the hermitage of San Sebastián, or  the viewpoint at Vidiella. 

Throughout the year and especially at weekends there are many courses and leisure activities ranging from short courses on percussion and African dance to magic and juggling. Likewise, holiday camps are organised with different educational programmes and guided trips for groups and associations. 

Antonio didn't feel so positive about these changes!

He said it was the YESA dam's fault

that the people of this valley had lost their livelihood to begin

with and now "they" wanted to extend it again. 

People who had been uprooted when he and I were 7 years old

were now going to be uprooted again in their old age.

That's why all the "NO YESA!" signs I saw along the road. 

I'm not sure how this will turn out,

If you speak Spanish, there is a website with current information 

at www.yesano.com

The village is in ruins,

but it is easy to imagine how beautiful it once was.

I can only hope walking this route of the Camino

will serve to stimulate interest in this incredible hilltop village

and cause people to want to restore the buildings

as has happened in many other Camino Frances villages.

Here are some photos of Ruesta taken from the internet:

Approaching Ruesta

Ruined walls

An old footpath

Through the window

Ruesta under clear skies

As the biker story teller finished his tale, 

so I also finished my beer, paid for my bed

(9 Euros including dinner), 

and was directed to the albergue portion of the ruins.

The room where I slept had been recently refinished 

and was very clean. 

It was filled with metal bunkbeds, 

and the sheets were clean.

There, much to my surprise, 

who did I see but my French friends from St. Celia!

We hugged and hello'd and had a nice visit.

I enjoyed a nice hot shower and did my wash,

then went exploring in the ruins.

Dinner was very good, 

and right before bedtime, 

Andrew, a young American man, appeared.

It was great to meet another American on the Camino,

I see so few!

We all shared a bottle of wine,

thanks to the generosity of Michelle and Michael,

and laughed as we shared our stories

of the mean hospitalera in the village before.

Apparently, she had also chased off Andrew

when he stopped to ask for water!

The French couple had spent the night there,

and wished they'd traveled on.

So, stay in Artieda at your own risk.

Perhaps the lady was just having a bad day.

The wine hit the spot,

and we all had a very good sleep

in the ruins of this special ancient village.

Except for Andrew's snoring in the room next door,

the night was dark and silent.

Photo by Martin Zalba/Internet

See my AnnieWalkersCamino website at 

Anniewalkers Camino

for more information about

Guided Walks on the Camino Santiago 

and on other Pilgrimage Trails of Europe

The Aragones Route - Jaca to Santa Celia

Photo by David Foster

Loretta and I had decided to at least begin our walk together. 

When you are walking the Camino on any route, 

there is an unspoken rule that each person must walk their own Camino. 

What this means is you might walk with a group, 

or you might walk alone. 

You might start with a walking partner, 

but one of you may want to go faster or slower, 

and it's okay to do this at your own speed. 

One of the most fun things of all is getting to an albergue 

and running into "old friends" that you left on the trail 2 weeks ago.

Or meeting people in Santiago that you walked with 40 days earlier.

So, with this understanding in mind, 

we began our walk together. 

We knew we would eventually part company, 

because I planned on walking to the famous 

Monastery of San Juan de la Peña in this first stage.

I had asked at the Jaca albergue 

what the trail was like up to the Monastery, 

and was told, "It's just a short walk." 

I should have known better.

The kilometers in Spain have a tendency 

to grow longer as you walk.

However, I decided I would go and see the Monastery, 

and then walk from there down into Santa Celia.

Loretta and I set out walking about 7 a.m. 

After about 30 minutes, we found an open bar 

and had coffee and sweet bread.  

There were only two other pilgrims there, 

so we figured the walking would be mostly solitary. 

We strolled through town, past the beautiful park blocks, 

and then came to a place where the signage was not clear.

In Spain, this route is waymarked by yellow arrows 

but also with red and white bars as GR 65.3,

part of the Spanish network of Senderos de Gran Recorrido.

Here are some of the marks you might find:

In France, this route is called the Arles Route,

and is mostly a single route.  

However, once you reach Aragón and Navarra there are variants, 

mainly to famous monasteries. 

So here we stood, an hour into the day's walk, 

already stumped.

We stood pondering and discussing for a moment 

and a truck of workers stopped near us.

I asked them, "which way to the Camino?"  

They pointed one direction, but Lorette insisted they were wrong.  

I decided to follow my gut and the advice of the locals,

and Loretta and I parted company. 

She went one direction, and I went the other.

After a while, I saw the sign indicating the cut-off trail to the Monastery. 

I turned off to the left and walked through an empty field, 

following the signs to the base of a rough-looking trail. 

I walked through an area that looked like a dump,

past an abandoned car,

and finally saw another trail sign.

It looked like the trail had been washed out. 

But I had heard this trek had been done by others,

so I worked my way up the rocky gully.

It was very difficult climbing, 

sometimes on my hands and knees. 

In some places, the steep trail was completely washed out.

I am not in bad shape, but I'm not an athlete, 

and there were times I just had to stop and catch my breath.  

I thought, "I sure hope this Monastery is worth the effort!."

The following photo is NOT of the trail I walked, 

but is an excellent example of how it looked:

Near what I thought was the top of the trail, 

the stark red mud began to sprout vegetation 

and I worked myself into a small forested area. 

All of a sudden, around the corner came a man carrying a basket,

just like Little Red Riding Hood. 

Was this the wolf?

 Turned out to be a gentleman mushrooming. 

He had a basket full of mushrooms 

and when I asked him how far to the Monastery, 

he pointed up the trail and said,

"not so far... just keep going."

Ok...so I "kept going" and after a bit, 

the trail widened out and I was at the top of a mountain

looking into a beautifully lush farmland valley. 

I thought, "Thank God, I made it!"

I walked and walked and finally reached the village

which wasn't really a town at all, 

but a group of private houses.  

I soon realized that this was not my destination. 

There were no shops, no bars... just houses and a church.

I passed through this village, 

then finally saw a sign pointing up another road saying simply,

"Monastery."

I kept walking.  

I walked, and walked. 

Eventually I was in an area with hills on each side of the road. 

Suddenly the silence was broken by gunshots. 

BIG gunshots!

I thought, "Holy crap! Is somebody shooting at me?" 

Then ahead I saw a parked car. 

When I got closer, I saw the car was being guarded by two pit bulls. 

Oh great. 

Here are the dogs I keep hearing about,

but not on the Camino Frances!  

On the car was a sign saying:

Peligro!

No Pasar!

Batida de Caza!

which basically means

 

DANGER!

DO NOT PASS!

HUNTING Area!

Yikes! 

What the heck?  

They are shooting shotguns along the Camino?

I sat down and took a break, 

wondering what in the heck to do.

I was just too tired to go back to the main road.

I'd been walking over 3 hours up this trail. 

I could only pray,

"Please let them finish hunting or send a car or a taxi. 

I need help!"

I decided to keep walking. 

The Monastery couldn't be too much further.

Taking wide berth around the pit bulls,

and ducking every time I heard a shotgun,

I continued on my way.  

Soon, two people appeared on the trail.

They told me not to worry. 

They said it was safe to walk, 

that the men were hunting up in the hills, 

not near the trail. 

They said the Monastery was only 2 kilometers further.

So I continued to walk. 

I walked, and I walked. 

Two more hours. 

What I KNOW was much further than 2 kilometers.

Now I was in a moonscape of what appeared to be

an old riverbed full of giant boulders. 

The traveling was difficult. 

The trail was washed out in many places 

and I had to scramble on my hands over rocks 

and down steep embankments.

I heard the church bell in the valley striking 12 

and I knew I had now been walking for 5 hours. 

And it wasn't easy walking - it was hard climbing and rock scrambling

all the time carrying a backpack. 

I was tired.

I was hungry.

I was out of water.

I climbed over a motorbike

that had gotten stuck in the rocks 

and had been abandoned.  

Apparently, young people like to rock scramble on their motorcycles

in this area, so be aware. 

I started up another embankment 

and two people came toward me out of the brush.

I said hello. 

They responded in French. 

My French isn't great, so I asked in Spanish,

"How far is it to the Monastery?"

They replied, "1.5 to 2 hours."

TWO MORE HOURS????

My heart sunk. 

There is no way I could walk two more hours in these conditions 

and then still walk the kilometers to Santa Celia from the Monastery!

(Well, I COULD, I just didn't WANT to!)

There is no place to sleep at the Monastery. 

I do not have my tent - 

I left it in Santiago at the Travel Center. 

What in the world would I do now?

This was a difficult moment for me.

Emotionally and physically, I was drained. 

If I had KNOWN before I set out how hard this walk was going to be, 

I could have either mentally and prepared myself with food and water

or taken another route. 

Maybe I would have hired a taxi to take me to the Monastery. 

Maybe I would have kept my tent and planned on sleeping there. 

But now, I only felt exhausted and overwhelmed.

These lovely people sensed my distress 

and offered me a ride down to the main road.

I gladly accepted.

I climb into their van and we head out across the valley

to a road pointing the way to the highway. 

I was shocked to see the main road was EIGHT MILES away!! 

I would have had to get up to the Monastery 

then down 8 miles to the main road, 

and then on to Santa Celia. 

I didn't have that kind of stamina, 

especially after the climb up the rocky trail. 

I would have had to sleep outside with no tent.

I am sure I could have done it if I had to, 

but at that moment, 

I was so happy that this French couple had rescued me!  

I couldn't help myself... I began crying in relief.

We drove and drove, 

around hills and through gorgeous forest. 

We finally reached the main road,

just a short distance from where I had left it that morning.

I was sniffling as I got out of their van. 

They hugged me and offered me food and water. 

"Would you like a little bread to eat?"

Photo by Frenchforfoodies

I was so hungry, not having planned for this adventure!  

I accepted, crying, thanking them profusely.  

They asked if I'd like a ride to Santa Celia. 

I declined.

I needed the time to pull myself together.   

More hugs, and they left, beep-beeping their horn down the road. 

It made me laugh, and I needed that more than anything!

I walked about an hour. 

I could smell food.. .literally. 

And then to the left was a wonderful bar 

where they grill your food on order over an open fire.  

I was so happy!  

I ordered a big old beer with lemon and studied the menu. 

Then I had them bring me a giant mixed salad 

and beef with roasted peppers. 

Time for celebration! 

I was alive!

The beer and the food revived my spirits 

and I continued on to Santa Celia. 

I took a right turn through a residential area, 

past fenced empty lots, 

and finally into the village itself.

I passed a bar which also was a tiny tienda,

but I had eaten, so I continued on to the albergue.   

There was a lot of road construction going on and I had to detour several times. 

When I reached the albergue,

there was nobody there, 

but a sign on the door said the Pilgrim should go in 

and make themselves at home.

So I did.

The albergue was a sweet little place 

with dorms for men and dorms for women. 

It had a nice kitchen with pots, pans, dishes, cutlery. 

It had a washing machine!

And upstairs was a bank of computers.

I wish I had photos to show you.

If anyone has photos of this albergue they can share, 

I'd love to add them to this posting.

I took a bed near the french doors, 

knowing I could crack them open in the night if it got too stuffy. 

Then I took a shower and waited for others to show up.

Soon 5 other Pilgrims showed up. 

One was a German boy who had just come from the Monastery

I had tried all day to reach!  

He told me he had walked from HERE and back today 

and that the hospitalera had allowed him to stay an extra night 

so he could make this journey. 

This is what I would suggest to any pilgrim wanting to see the Monastery. 

Either pay a taxi to take you up there from Santa Celia 

or walk from HERE up the main road. 

That washed out trail is a difficult one, 

and unless you are in really great shape or have a tent,

I can not in good conscience suggest it. 

Taking the main road from Santa Celia and back makes a lot more sense.

Another single Peregrina showed up, 

and then a French couple in their 60's. 

They were very nice, but also very tired. 

They had decided to take a taxi tomorrow to the next stop - 

her feet wouldn't carry her another kilometer. 

I absolutely understood!

Loretta never showed up

and I worried 

that she may have tried the trail to the Monastery also.

I wondered where she ended up?

We all pooled our resources that night and shared dinner. 

The French couple brought a bottle of wine 

and that healed my aches and pains from the climb.

I slept like a rock, 

listening to the lambs bleating in the field below my window.

My! What an adventure this was!  

I was absolutely exhausted,

but woke up thankful to have made it to Santa Celia.

See my AnnieWalkersCamino website at 

www.anniecarvalho.weebly.com

for more information about

Guided Walks on the Camino Santiago 

and on other Pilgrimage Trails of Europe