Five nights after leaving Seville, I was still adjusting to walking a Camino. On my second day, after sleeping in a field, I dawdled and even took a long siesta, arriving at my first ever albergue at 9 pm, in the dark. This was in the village of Castilblanco de los Arroyos. I was surprised when the hospitalero asked me why I was so late. The dormitory was half full and not having slept in bunk beds for decades, the little boy in me eagerly selected a top bunk. I was aware of eyes on me as I tried to heave myself up. It must have been noisy and I was unaware that pilgrims, especially on these quieter Caminos, go to sleep early. Nor had I thought of the difficulty and disruption of sneaking out for a pee during the night. When I awoke all the other pilgrims had gone.
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The hospitalero had warned me that it was a long way to the next albergue in Almaden. He said that it is common for people to take a taxi for the first part which is by road. Some of the Camino is by road, but not excessively so and most of the roads are quiet, as was this one. I walked the 12 kilometres having resolved to walk every inch of the Camino. When I turned off the road I entered the Parque Natural of the Sierra Norte.
The elegant marker for the Camino in the Sierra Norte Park.
My spirits were high in spite of the day being damp and I slowly absorbed the silence, the company of the trees and the witness of the boulders. I sat down near some black pigs who were snorting acorns (sp. bellota). These pigs who eat mainly bellota have very low cholesterol fat, so the marketing says. Certainly the dried hams of these pata negra pigs are wonderfully rich: a single small slice of such jamon has a resounding aroma and resonating effect on the tounge, lifting the spirits of the traveller. The pilgrim is offered just such a taste in every village in this part of the Camino between Seville and Extremadura with the firmly acclaimed certitude that this is the world’s finest Iberica de Bellota.
Black pigs, the source of Bellota Iberica, grazing in the Sierra Norte de Sevilla.
Still adjusting to distances and times, and having had my divine instruction to simply enjoy the Camino, I found myself near nightfall a good few kilometres from Almaden and facing a very steep climb over the ridge, called “Calvary” which separated this part of the Sierra from its gentler border with Extremadura.
Just before nightfall in the Sierra Norte
Once again I laid out my sleeping mat beside the Camino. Just after dark, cosily drugged by the pleasantness of lying down in my sleeping bag, I was visited by wild boar. I know that the wild animals in Spain are harmless if they are not disturbed (apart from the bulls and vipers), but letting this sink in, with the grunts and noisy digging with their noses right next to my prostrate corpus required an act of faith this first night.
The following day I made the short trip to Almadén, had a really good rest and on the fifth day of my Camino I set out for Extremadura via Real de La Jara. Until this day I had averaged just under 20 km per day. I arrived early at Real de la Jara and in top form after a Mass at mid-day I decided to carry on even though I knew there was no albergue or town before Monesterio, a good 20km further on.
Castillo de las Torres, guarding Extremadura
Two things happened: I began to develop blisters on both feet and the damp weather threatened to become a downpour. Walking became painful and I was concerned about my ability to continue. I did not know what to do about blisters and if, in the end, they prevent walking. I was not at all experienced as a walker, so this thought preoccupied me. So, too did the darkening skies as I looked for somewhere to shelter for the night. The Camino passed through a huge and green private finca with no abandoned barns or natural shelter.
Pigs on the Camino
There were pigs. I became very tired and aware that a blister had burst. My rucksack weighed about 14 kgs which now seemed to me to push right through my foot. There is a degree of discomfort on the Camino which I was happy to accept, like sleeping on the ground or the normal rheumatic aches, but this alarmed me. So far I had not spoken to any pilgrims because they were always ahead of me, and, moreover, there were few on this Camino in March. Had I done so I would have been reassured since coping with blisters, and avoiding them, is basic knowledge on the Camino. My ignorance added to my suffering.
The rain began in earnest as I neared civilization in the form of the motorway which co-incides with much of the Via de La Plata, but I was still five kilometres from Monesterio and had already walked an excessive 25 kms. I could make out the Monastery of Tentudia at a moment when the rain eased.
Tentudia
With great relief I arrived at a campsite and begged a bit of shelter to sleep the night. I was given the balcony of an empty cabin. The heavens opened and I slept only slightly aware of the tremendous storm echoing round the hills, beating on the roof above and flashing light outside my sleeping bag.
The next morning all was clean and the air pure with a smell of gratitude from the parched earth. The climb up to Monesterio was a mixture of joy and agony. My left foot was sending a hot spear through itself from the ground with every step.
Fresh morning joy while walking in agony near Monesterio.
I presented myself at the local Health Centre where I was welcomed and treated with kindness and expertise. I might well have been the only pilgrim ever to ask for help with a crippling blister by the attention and patience with which the staff attended to me. Only when I went to the Chemists afterwards to buy a cream I had been recommended did I learn that pilgrims visit the Health centre with the same complaint daily. I am awestruck by this ability to meet each person as a complete and valued individual. Moreover the service is offered without charge, even for people from the USA.