To the Top of the Camino
Travel Days 89 – 91
March 27 – 29
Camino Day 22:
Villar de Mazarife to Astorga
Daily distance: 26.6
km
Total distance: 514.5
km
The remote detour I took on
the Alternative Camino ended as I rejoined the major roadway parallel to the
Camino Frances. Even then, I did not
spot another soul. I was beginning to
think that I wasn’t going to see any of the original crew from St. Jean. In Villar de Mazarife, everyone staying at
the albergue had started in León,
something that I suspected would be more common from this point onward. Many Spaniards who were off work for Holy
Week were walking portions of the Camino.
But upon my arrival to Astorga, my suspicions were quelled.
After I bypassed the Albergue
Nazi’s interrogation (he demanded to know why I didn’t have any stamps from the
night of the 25th, my second night in Leon), I spotted Claudia in a
room adjacent to mine. And with some
quick networking, we had a crew of seven going to dinner: Gary, Dale, Gianluca,
Siegfried, Marcus, Claudia, and me. A
celebration was in order on many accounts, especially since this was the limit
of Marcus’ Camino. He had to fly back to
Germany in two days and didn’t have enough time to make it to Cruz de Ferro and
back. Under suggestion from a good
friend who walked the Camino years ago, we ate at the Hotel Astur Plaza, and
had one of the best meals of the trip.
Food and drink are always best paired with good company. We stayed out just until our curfew for the
night, which was early. But at this
point in the journey, all of us were starting to feel the exhaustion of the
Way, and gladly took to our beds.
Camino Day 23:
Astorga to Foncebadón
Daily distance: 25.9
km
Total distance: 540.4
km
Synchronized with my 7:00 AM
alarm, the right arm of the Albergue Nazi cracked open the door to our
bunkroom, flipped on the light switch, and gave a curt and quiet “Buenas
Dias.” The door closed again
immediately. So much for the snooze
button. I packed up my things, and once
everyone else was out of the room, started moving through a yoga flow. As I came up from one of my sun salutations,
I saw the upset pair of crossed arms belonging to the Albergue Nazi standing in
the doorway. He reminded me that I had
ten minutes until I had to be out of the albergue, and I practiced some of that
patience by politely smiling and thanking him for the recap. I forgot how strict they are in some of these
monasteries.
The Camino leading from Astorga
passed by a café for breakfast and the town’s impressive Cathedral. The still-rising sun hitting the eastern wall
reminded me how early these mornings are with daylight savings; solar noon was
now at 2:30 PM.
At the edge of the
concrete, the ground sloped slightly upward; I was on my way out of the valley
and up towards Cruz de Ferro, the highest point on the Camino. The new ground angle was welcomed; some of my
muscles and tendons were suffering fatigue from overuse on the flat and level
grounds that dominate the Camino. Now I
had a chance to fatigue a new set of muscles and tendons. I started the day with all of my warming
layers on, hoping to take them off, but never had the chance. As the sun climbed, so did the elevation, and
the temperature stayed steady. A thick
blanket of clouds laid atop the sky, the most foreboding ones to the west. A slight headwind told me they would probably
arrive later in the day.
I arrived in Rabanal del
Camino at 2:00 PM, marking 20 kilometers for the day and the last proper town
before the climb towards Cruz de Ferro.
I stopped for an hour to enjoy a full meal at a restaurant, telling
myself it would be the last meal of the day.
I was exhausted from the late nights of the last four days, and wanted
nothing more than a shower and a bed upon arrival in Foncebadón.
At 3:00 PM, I started the 5
kilometer hike up a 5% grade. By a long
shot, this was not the steepest mountain I’ve been on. But it was the elements, not the grade, which
made this mountain difficult. The
foreboding clouds arrived, bringing sideways rain with them. I hid behind the shield of my umbrella,
propping my walking sticks as a cross member to prevent the gusts from
collapsing (and possibly breaking) the umbrella. The fronts of my legs were pelted with
freezing rain and sleet as my not-so-waterproof boots trudged through the
un-melted snowfall from last week’s storms.
I laughed manically, piercing the rhythm of raindrops assailing the
umbrella’s deteriorating waterproof canvas.
Laughing is the best way to maintain sanity. My cold legs kept moving forward. The bad times never last. My exhausted body eventually made it to the
albergue on the mountain.
Camino Day 24:
Foncebadón to Ponferrada
Daily distance: 27.3
km
Total distance: 567.7
km
As I put on my clean, dry
boots that had been stuffed with newspaper and sitting on top of a heater all
night, I cringed at the thought of my feet becoming cold and wet within my
first couple minutes outside of the albergue.
Claudia and I waited for daylight before beginning the final trek to the
top of the mountain, to Cruz de Ferro, the proper place to leave our rock from
home. We stood on the balcony and
watched the sun crest the horizon and illuminate the snow-covered mountains. The thick low-lying clouds glowed a dark red
on their fringes before consuming the sun a few minutes later. The cold brought a shiver; we retreated
inside.
Leaving the albergue, it
became obvious that I wouldn’t have to worry about the mud because everything
had frozen solid to ice. Now I just had
to worry about slipping while going up the driveway and down the street back to
the main road. Claudia crawled on her
hands and knees to avoid falling on them.
As we started the two-kilometer trek to the summit, the sun pierced the
clouds and cast an orange glow on us.
For a moment, it looked like today would have good weather (it didn’t).
The muddy road of the Camino
was frozen in many places, but the snow on the shoulders was frozen as well,
crushing under our boots and providing the traction we needed to climb. Eventually, our choice to walk on frozen mud
or snow on the shoulder disappeared; it was all snow that climbed halfway up
our shins. Fortunately, it was just cold
enough outside so our boots didn’t get wet, and the new hole formed in the side
of my right boot didn’t prove the problem I thought it would be.
From a long way off, we
spotted Cruz de Ferro, a tiny cross sitting on top of a ten-meter-tall pole mounted
on a mound of dirt covered in rocks. Our
pace picked up on our approach; this is the highest point of the Camino. We stood on top of the pile, staring up at
the tiny cross hovering high above our heads, the silence only interrupted by
the typical blowing of the wind at the crest of any mountain.
 |
| Standing at the peak of Cruz de Ferro. |
But with the winds came the fog, a new cloud,
this one with weightless snowflakes that blew sideways with the wind. Even at momentous occasions like this, the
universe is never afraid to express its indifference towards us.
I marched with my umbrella in
front of me, walking sticks propped as a crossbeam, and both of us huddled
behind it. The snow was deflected from
our bodies but still hit our legs, too dry to stick to our hiking pants. Claudia rattled off the names of warm cities,
warm foods, and proclaimed her love for hot chocolate. I chuckled to myself next to her. We all do what we need in order to keep our
sanity. After two kilometers, we found a
refuge in the mountains that looked like a landfill fortress. Its buildings and towers were constructed
from random scraps, and three chained guard dogs barked vehemently at us. Just as the storm was urging us to continue
down the mountain and out of the cloud, a man emerged from one of the shanty
buildings, swinging a stick around at the dogs until they silenced. He walked towards us, greeting us, his crazy
eyes staring at us from behind a clean pair of glasses. His grey beard extended down to his
chest. He invited us inside to escape
the storm and join him for coffee. We
were happy to sit on his couches next to the fireplace and warm our bones for a
moment before venturing out.
 |
| Our bearded crazy-eyed host. |
Shortly after leaving the
refuge, we descended below the clouds and escaped the onslaught of snow
contained within it. The Camino proper
still had a foot of snowpack, so we walked on the road. And as we weaved on the edges of mountains,
the scene of the surrounding mountains and valleys transformed, marking this a
memorable Camino day. Pictures never to
justice to the panoramic view and contemplative silence created by snow-covered
mountains.
 |
| The snow cloud is just above us. It was good to descend below it. |
 |
| The moss-covered trees populated the windward side of the mountain. |
 |
| All things come to an end; we finally climbed below the snow line. |
We descended 1,000 meters from
Cruz de Ferro to Ponferrada, passing through a quaint mountain town with brick
buildings and the smell of trees and fireplaces, and descending through a
valley with signs of glaciers that carved it eons ago. The flora on the windward side of the
mountain were more vibrant than the leeward side of our climb.
 |
| I managed to slip on one of these smooth glacier-carved rocks that was still wet from the rains. |
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