Burgos into the Wild Meseta

It was the longest and slowest of slogs into Burgos. Almost ten kilometers of industrial parks, highway interchanges and car dealerships. A true concrete jungle. It was definitely the ugliest and most draining section of the Camino so far, totally devoid of charm and nature to motivate our walking spirit. That morning, our twelfth on the Way, we started in the dark, guided by the artificial sunrise in the west that was the ambient light of Burgos. Up and over a long hill, it is no small miracle I didn't twist an ankle on the thousands of loose rocks that fell underfoot. In the shadow of Kelsey's headlamp, I vowed to never again leave an albergue without my headlamp easily accessible. The beautiful weather that has graced me with a wicked farmers tan was gone as we set out from Ages, and we used our packas (rainjacket and backpack cover in one) for the first time since our first day going over the Pyrenees.  

Upon entering the old town of Burgos though, your jaw can't help but drop. Dominating the old town is the massive Cathedral de Santa Maria, it's spires reaching delicately towards the overcast sky. Plazas, winding streets, arches are all adorned by flowers, fountains and cafes. I can see why so many pilgrims are taking a rest day here, the architectural intricacy of the cathedrals alone could keep you entertained all day. Arriving before noon, we hoped to beat the rush and secure our beds at the Divinia Pastora albergue. It had only 18 spaces and promised a more intimate albergue experience. Steps from the albergue, an American pilgrim told us that it was already full. Ahhhh! Burgos is a popular starting point for El Camino, and we couldn't help but think that Divinia Pastora must be full of eager new pilgrims. We maneuvered up the grand steps behind the cathedral and made our way to the Municipal Albergue, and joined the queue of waiting pilgrims for the noon opening. 

Six stories of dormitories, this was a modern, gigantic albergue deceptively accessed through an offset arched doorway. After our obligatory chores, we set out to meet with two American friends of Kelsey who live in Burgos. They took us to a cafe where I had the second best hot chocolate of my life. I am not exaggerating when I say it was literally melted milk chocolate in a cup. After the cold, rainy day of walking, it was liquid heaven. Unfortunately our visit with Kelsey's friends was short, and we were on our own wandering the city, picking up fruit and bread for the next day. Before departing though, they gave us the best restaurant recommendation conceivable. Walking into Valor, chocolate filled our senses. We requested the Spanish chocolatier's signature treat of  churros dipped in hot chocolate. Hands down, this takes the trophy for best hot chocolate of my life. Holy man, it was out of control. I intend to eat this at least three more times in Spain. 

Later, we ran into my long lost friend John, and I had an absolutely wonderful conversation with him. He is staying an extra day in Burgos, and I am surprised at how sad I am that I may not see him again. As Dave said to me, a week knowing someone on the Camino is the equivalent of knowing them for two years in normal life. Even more, Jesus, my correo savior is also returning home, and I will very much miss his gentle voice and broad smile. He very seriously assured me that we would one day see each again, and with a customary double cheek kiss, I am saying goodbye to another Camino friend. 

But when friends exit, new ones arrive. I met beautiful Anat and Tom, from Israel, and they told me of a walk across Israel, from North to South. So...that's happening. And I now have two new friends in Tel Aviv when I arrive later in the Spring. 

In the evening, Pepe, Tomas, Tobias, two German girls Rachel and Teresa, Kelsey and I wandered the streets of Burgos, until it became apparent that typical of a large group, no one wanted to make a decision on dinner. Boldly, I suggested pizza, and so it was. A large veggie pizza to top off a day of city eating.

This was an important meal for me. I had created a mini drama in my head, as cliques seem to be forming along the Way. I suppose this is natural, as we are logically divided by language, age and nationality. It seemed ridiculous, and not in keeping with my idealistic version of the Camino that we would form cliques, inclusion and exclusion, and I had somewhat blown it out of proportion. Kelsey listened to my gripes walking the streets before, alternating between the humor of the "Camino catwalk," where we seem to be checking each other out all the time, to disappointment in pilgrim's behavior. It seemed the only people removed from this silliness were couples and elder pilgrims. But the Burgos dinner set me right. People are people, and each have their own attractions. I have not yet met a malicious person on the Camino, so any perceived slight is simply a barrier that needs to be broken down. I am already making such amazing connections with an unbelievable number of people, I am continually amazed at how easy it is to talk to people if you are just open to it. I came into the Camino free and light, and I can say I have engaged most every person I have come across. I had always thought of myself as a little bit introverted, but I have realized I am very much my parents daughter, and I am here embracing every bit of my extroverted-ness. 

A serendipitous self-portrait.

Setting a new record of bed to ready in less than 30 minutes, Kelsey and I set out from Burgos at 6:30, traversing a much easier exit than entrance from the city. We were entering the much lamented Meseta and Tierra de Campos (Land of Fields), an area of Spain comprised of plains and plateaus. I found it stunning. 

There has been a dramatic shift in the temperature to accompany the scenery change, and you could hear the whistle of the wind throughout the day. Descending into the one calle town of Hornillos del Camino, we made one turn through the modest plaza to the Albergue Municipal. Alas, there was no hot water, stove or wifi, but as the sign proclaimed in the albergue in Burgos: "Tourists demand. Pilgrims thank." The seemingly purposeful quiet of Hornillos, in stark contrast to Burgos, seemed designed to afford more time for quiet thought. As I write this section, I am sitting in the very still, high ceilinged church, where in its cool calm, I am encouraged to close my eyes and let my energy flow.  

Hornillos and its only distinguishing feature.

Later on...

I now understand why the Meseta is a bit lamented. It is not due to the scenery which is magnificent, where there is a sensation of walking on the oceans floor, fields rolling away in the distance into plateaus. Your eyes are afforded the luxury of seeing as far as they can see. No, it is because of the desolation and isolation, the towns quiet and set far apart, that the Meseta is rushed through by  many pilgrims. After wandering the one street, exploring ancient ruined buildings, and reading over 100 pages in my book, it was still only 5 pm in Hornillo. Somehow, we made it to 8, then promptly passed out with the intention of a long walk the next day. 

Waking at 5, we walked through the open darkness of the Meseta for two hours waiting for the sunrise on the misty morning. Descending into the town of Hontanas (for those planning on doing El Camino, I would recommend staying here vice Hornillos the day after Burgos) we had a rejuvenating tortilla and cafe con leche. Kelsey and I have figured out our clockwork, we need a semi-meal every 2.5 hours to keep our energy levels high. With this in mind we had our longest, most champion day yet. We walked for 11 hours, and covered a distance of 39.4 km. In doing so, we put ourselves almost an entire day ahead, allowing for a rest day along the Way, maybe in Leon. The scenery was so majestic, we compared it to the plains in the U.S., Oz, Fantasia (from the NeverEnding Story), and an ocean. 

Passing through Castrojeriz and Itero de Vegas, from fields of hay, up and over a plateau, through fields of lettuce, corn and decapitated sunflowers, we arrived at the beautiful albergue in Boadilla.

Up and over a plateau.

What a stark difference from the albergue in Hornillos (which was so grungy, that I woke up in the night and it smelled like a ham Lunchable). 

Albuerge En El Camino in Boadilla.

Deservedly tired and a little sore from our marathon walk today, we settled into the comfort of the albergue, passing our evening with the knowledge that each day we are letting go, walking further and accomplishing something truly wonderful.