Burgos to Fromista

A wonderful day on the Camino, though not particularly eventful, but still a great deal of fun.


As the weather gnomes predicted, it would be a lovely day out, with only mild winds from the West and trending a bit to South, South West, but all under 15 kms an hour, so nothing to complain about. The temperatures are hovering around 15C during the day, though they do dip to around 5C at night and in the morning, so absolutely wonderful for cycling, but by the standards of these poor people, dreadfully cold.

Started the day out reasonably not early, as the wonderful hotel I stayed at, the Hotel Aquarelas (The Watercolours Hotel) had a fabulous buffet spread for breakfast, so rolled out of there quite late, around 10ish, but today´s Camino stage is only to Fromista, some 70 kms away, and most importantly, on the meseta, the flat section of Spain (where the rain actually does NOT fall, being quite dry). This time of year everything is just coming into bloom, and all very green and lovely. It will be considerably different in 4 months, which is the height of the pilgrimage season, this year they may even break the 200,000 mark, due to it´s increasing popularity, but also because it is a Jacobean year (the feast of St. James falls on a Sunday) consequently doing the Camino this year will obviate all previous sins, and gives the traveller a clean slate to start afresh. You all know how important this is to me…
Leaving Burgos is very pleasant compared to entering it, which requires trundling though the industrial outskirts, the same as any other large town, just jarring from the usual medieval feel of the trip which is designed specifically to showcase the most beautiful corners of this region. It is a matter of civic and provincial pride in these parts to keep up their section of The Camino, and vast amounts of money have been spent in this regard. The good citizens of the Camino towns have been providing hospitality to travelers for over 1000 years, and it is indeed taken quite seriously, because even in a slack year, well over 150,000 pilgrims will do this trek, and at an average expenditure of anywhere from $20 to $250 a day per visitor, depending on how decadent one wants to be, the amount of money in question is not trivial.
Which leads me back to leaving Burgos, again the ubiquitous cycle dedicated cycle paths leading into the city (I weep for my adopted city) and lovely green meadows and fields. The other thing I have noticed is that every single church I have seen between Los Arcos and here has a stork´s nest on top of it. It is really quite a sight to see this giant birds circle around the spires of churches and cathedrals and gracefully alight in their giant nests. It being Easter Sunday there were all sorts of people dressed up in interesting Medieval type outfits, and at the entrance to one church, whose medieval carvings I was studying, I was almost run over by an Easter procession, the sound of their approach being drowned out by the clanging bells. The Camino climbs a bit past Burgos, but it is only a few hundred meters and over several kms, so nothing serious, or at least not any more to me, having conquered the Pyrenees. In a couple of hours, just in time for lunch, I came into a deserted town of San Bol, which was mysteriously abandoned in 1503, possibly due to disease, possibly connected with the expulsion of the Jews, or possibly as the 17th century traveler Laffi mentioned, from swarms of locusts. No bugs in sight today, and these beautiful green fields apparently will be chock a block with sunflowers as far as the eye can see come summer, their seeds being one of the area´s largest exports.
A few kms further down the path I came suddenly upon the town of Hontanas, another little village of around 70 inhabitants according to my iPhone guide, but very ancient and well set up to accommodate pilgrims. I counted 3 albergues and a hostel, all tiny mind you, but full of character and ancient. Had a very leisurely meal with a couple of French pilgrims who sat at the next table and that have traveled all the way from Chartres, and were telling me how much they are enjoying this trip. As it is still somewhat cool, and the vacation season in Europe has not started yet, there are mercifully few young pilgrims, and the pilgrims who are here are a bit older, and quite a bit more thoughtful and interesting. Like everyone I talk to, these people have no religious interest whatsoever, though they are nominally Catholic, this comedy of piousness which everyone treats them with here in Spain is to them quite a lark. I remind them of the quote from that Spanish philosopher Seneca, who said: “Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful.” We all have a good laugh. They remind me that Napoleon once said that “religion was the only thing which kept the poor from murdering the rich.” I wonder how true that still is now, at least in Christian countries that tend to be more developed than Muslim countries.
Had a lovely lunch of potato, onion and egg omelet and a lovely salad, again not being particularly abstemious with the wine as I really have developed a taste for them, despite my usual steady diet of Catalan wines. Wine says so much about the people of a region, there in a single glass, I can tell how they think, what they believe, the values they hold important, what is beautiful for them, how they live their lives, their summers, their winters, even their feelings about technology. All of this, condensed into a single drink. It would take tomes of books to describe everything about the history, philosophy, and values of a region, and yet a single drink will tell me everything I need to know. Rolled out of there around 2ish, the bells of the church had just struck, and trundled along to the ruins of the monastery of St. Anton. The camino goes literally through the ruins of the monastery. The Orden de los Antonianos rose out of a miraculous cure for San Anton’s fire, a burning disease similar to leprosy that was rampant in the Middle Ages. Hospices such as this one were set up all along the camino, treating diseased pilgrims with exercise, red wine, and the divine hand of St. Anton. Two of these three items will likely work and you, dear reader, get to choose which is the odd man out. Just as I was approaching the ruins, I saw my first pilgrim on the trail for the day, and she was quite a sight! Raven black hair, black lipstick, black fingernail polish, smoking a black cigarette, black wrap around sunglasses, black clothes, and with a studded black leather back pack. “Oh!” I said, taken a bit aback.
“Hello” she said, in unaccented Spanish.
“Um, quite the sight, isn´t it?” I said, trying to decide whether I meant her or the ruins.
“I love the crows” she said, and indeed, a few crows were perched quietly on the trefoils of the gothic tracery.
 “Where are you from?” I blurted out, after taking a few pictures.
 “Barcelona”, she said, “and you?”.
“Vancouver,” I said. It would be too complicated to explain…
“I hear it is nice there”
“Rains a lot” I said.

I have just noticed that it is almost midnight. This narrative will have to wait. I have posted the pictures for the day, but have not labeled them yet.



Good night!