Day V

It is surprising how cold it can be in the morning. I was trembling with cold even during hard biking that was supposed to warm me up. I saw another cute pilgrim town that also has a long and proud tradition on the Camino. One can even see an old pilgrim hostel from the 15th century. The town's name is Santa Domingo de la Calzada and it is known for a very interesting story about a flying duck. Once, there was a man wrongfully sentenced to death by hanging. For some reasons (I hope you can follow my pursuit to be impartial in all read stories and to avoid claiming any coincidence to a miracle for the sake of an impartial storyteller), he was hanged and somehow managed to stay alive for 30 days. His parents said that enough is enough and went to see the judge to make a plea to suspend the sentence (and the rope as well). The judge, as me, did not like to be disturbed by eating and angrily said to the parents that their son is as much alive as the duck on his plate. That duck, however, suddenly flew off from the plate and escaped through the window. In the end, the dumbfounded judge released the son. Well, I hope that no meal will fly away from me, though.

As I took some water from a pilgrim fountain (pity that the wine fountains do not come more often), I met a man from Wales. He started Camino Francais on foot, but due to health problems was unable to continue so he bought a bike and does the pilgrim route on a road bike. This is a crystal clear proof that even something like that is possible. However, one must be prepared for pushing his bike quite often. It is like his own cross on wheels.

The bike route went through picturesque villages where the main source of income is basically farming. Not many tourists, commercial places, just old squares, churches and nobody around. I pulled over in one of them to have a peaceful breakfast and to write these lines.

My breakfast as a reward came firstly after 30 km at 11 am on the church square in a small village. Before that I had few snacks, something like little muffins in a Spanish version in even a smaller village. I also finally managed to connect my cell phone to my netbook which had not worked for several days. I did that sitting on a tractor and eating those muffins in that already mentioned very small village. It could not work for 3 days and I seriously needed to transfer all photos and videos to free up some space. Out of levity and a little bit of despair, I turned my head to the heaven and said despairingly that now I really need to transfer it. Soon thereafter, it started working. It was quite scary and I decline to comment more on that. Connecting my cell phone also enabled me to download Spanish audio course and I immediately made use of several phrases with an elderly local man who warmly welcomed me in another village while taking breakfast. It was more about gestures and smiles than talking, but still, the first phrases I knew I could immediately apply and that proved to be a great opening gambit that enabled further communication with gestures, body language, drawings, illustrations and other things that came up to my mind: Compriendo Castilliano un poko.

I am disappointed that so far I have not found any church where regular masses would be announced. Now I am sitting in the front of a closed church on Sunday in the morning in a small village. That is quite unusual, supposing that Spanish are proud Catholics. It is really a mess with masses here.

I spotted a white stork nest on the church tower. It was so cute that I could not help myself not shooting a video of that.

Later on, I had to bike some hills which would not be very difficult had not been so awfully hot. It is true that the wind cools you a little, but that works only If your ride 20 km/h and up. Otherwise, you will experience the soaring heat during the noon at its fines. I am happy that my helmet serves as a good protection against the sun stroke and I am so taunted that I cannot get sunburn, either. Anyhow, I find it quite challenging and a great cardio exercise to bike in the hottest sun. 

For the lunch I had a stopover in another important pilgrim place Saint Juan de Ortega. I kindly asked the receptionist in the auberge if I could leave my cell phone for charging there and enjoyed my lunch that consisted of prosciutto, tortillas and Panache, the French/Spanish version of Radler. I wanted to talk to a man sitting near to me and offered a biscuit to him, but he did not seem very talkative. Few minutes later I overheard something like Pardubice from the next bench where a man was chatting up two women. Firstly I thought that I must have had a sunstroke that this word came to mind as an imaginary fata morgana of beer and thus this association made me think that I heard Pardubice, but I wanted to check it out anyway. I waited patiently until the group of guys leaves, washed my head in the meantime, and came up to them. They were really from Bohemia and were very nicely surprised with this meeting. They invited me for a drink in the bar and we spent about 2 h talking about the Camino, its meaning, spirituality and of course, all the experiences we went through. I wanted to order the next round, but when one of them ordered the whole bottle, there was no point in ordering more wine. Therefore, I tried to reciprocate with sharing my biscuits. Interestingly, in their case, Camino Francais was completely spontaneous. They got to know each other only 2 months before they decided to undertake this holy pilgrimage, and everything was in the sense of “maybe once”. This maybe unexpectedly became the reality and now they walk Camino Francais together and sleep in sleeping bags outside. If two women in their 40s are brave enough to do that, I think there is no problem for anyone to do the same – the auberges are therefore not a must and this is a good option for someone whose travelling budget does not stretch to accommodation, but wants to make the Camino nonetheless.

After this very pleasant break I left for Burgos, another big metropolitan city that requires more sightseeing as one needs in small towns. From the wine and biscuits I got so much energy that I could keep the pace of 32 km on normal road for about an hour. The roads in Burgos are like in every bigger town very confusing and it took me another hour to reach the city centre. 

Unfortunately, by the time I reached Burgos, it was getting dark and I had to choose between attending the mass in the cathedral and the sights. I preferred the mass and spent an hour in the cathedral not having understood a word. On the other hand, however, this let me contemplate in silence observing this beautiful place of worship. Afterwards it was almost impossible to take good pictures, thus my sightseeing stays only in my mind as I strode in the bursting city and soaked the atmosphere. I found a free public WiFi and stayed in the city centre until the late night hour. Fortunately thanks to good bike roads, it was not a problem to leave the city at night and join the pilgrim route again. I could not find a better place for building my tent: It was outside the city behind a guarded area in a rich suburb. If a robber were interested in someone in this area, definitely not in a shabby pilgrim sleeping in a tent. 

Link to photos