Leon to Galicia

 An earlyish start to walk 25 km steadily uphill to a few km past the iron cross at 1530 m. The very best tortilla ever for lunch. Pilgrims leave a stone at its base to represent their leaving their sin behind. From here, the body heals and the soul heals on completion at Santiago.  From the ancient cross, the terrain slopes gradually back down towards the rolling plateau we had driven across. To the east, the landscape suddenly changes to steep slopes and deep gorges. 

We overnighted at a  modern hotel that caters for weddings from the nearby wealthy looking industrial town. Love is in the air in spluttering neon lights up the lawn and for the first time, we taste the Murcian wine of Galicia. Until the freeway tunnels and viaducts were constructed, this narrow road was the main connection between Galicia and the rest of Spain. Most Galicians seeking a new life, therefore sailed to America rather than crossing into Spain

  

The next day we are driven across industrial Ponferrad and up along narrowing gorges to start our ascent of 700m over about 12km. Ponferrad has a small, very defensible Templar castle, now a private house, with (almost) a drawbridge and plenty of places for shooting intruders. 

We started walking at a tiny village with huge viaducts high above us. The track rose steadily and, while my legs are now good enough, my cardiovascular system insisted on regular stops. Our hostel accommodation was in O’Cerbriero at 1400 m. The village was becoming derelict until taken in hand by the local priest, who has many memorials near the simple reconstructed church. A couple of gift shops, but lots of rooms for rent and places to eat for the pilgrims. The old circular thatched stone houses have been kept – tight accommodation for an extended family and their animals. They stayed warm in a long winter by the animals down below and a fire with no smoke outlet in the living area. The mist had rolled in and everything was cold and damp when we came out of mass.

Drizzling mist for the fist half of our next walk down to Triacastella at 620m. The poor villages along the route only have old people and a few cattle. The first half of the walk was along a ridge in the mist before we plunged down to a delightful lunch just before the destination. The waitress said that the high season for Spanish walkers is July and August, but there were very few this year. They were replaced by many Americans who had seen The Way and many Koreans who have a camino-inspired walk in their own country. We were welcomed to Triacastella by a Cuban music jam session – fantastic! The night was in a renovated rural rectory, one of about 80 scattered across Galicia, advertising a rural gourmet experience