The Meseta

The Meseta is the great central plateau of Spain. A part of the enormous Castilla y Leon region, this 81,000 square mile mesa reaches all the way south to Madrid, slopes west to the Atlantic, ends abruptly to the north at the Cantabrian Mountains (which are in our future), and east where we have come from. It is known to be chilling in winter and scorching hot in summer. Medieval pilgrim records note of becoming hopelessly lost and disoriented in the Meseta.

We need to cross it.

The Meseta has been looming in our minds for days. For me it’s the longer distances we need to walk. For Iron Ben, the potential boredom of the landscape. A good start was made on day one, the longest walk we have planned for the journey at 31.4km (19.5 miles). We pulled back on the throttle a bit, stopped periodically to dry and dress our ailments, and we made it in about 7 ½ hours. (Ben has joined my blister party.)

We talked about the feet with a couple of travelers from Atlanta and New Zealand in Ages. With the pressure one puts on the feet attempting something like this, there will be problems. You address them as they come but it’s like whack-a-mole. What you do to address one issue creates another. The pilgrim’s life.

We are proud to have covered this distance in good spirits. It was a pleasant walk leaving beautiful Burgos. Our second breakfast was in Tardajos before a significant “alto” to a bocadillo break in Hornillos del Camino. We were attended to by an adorable and appreciative old man there, so happy to win our euros. Then the long sunny afternoon stomp to Hontanas. While we hope for these cool breezy and sunny days crossing this plateau, the forecast has storms on the horizon. (Request to Buen Camino subscriber Papa Jarvis for an Osage sun dance in coming days.)

Towns on the Meseta are not like any medieval hamlets I’ve seen. Usually located defensively atop a hill, these are found in river valleys or whatever “divot” the plateau offers. They’re invisible on the horizon until you’re upon them, presumably to be protected from the wind, or from sight? With little to no trees on the Meseta, the buildings are mud and brick. Ben and I both felt that approaching Hontanas was like arriving at Tatooine in Star Wars. The adobe, mud, and brick structures with their sand and gray color give me a strong sense of being “far away”. Spain retains a sense of wildness that continues to draw me.

This distinct structure is most evident in the gorgeous Iglesia de la Immaculada Concepcion. I found this 14th century iglesia to be beautiful in its simplicity, its open and welcoming honesty. Honored inside were religious leaders from many faiths including Martin Luther Ling Jr, which made me proud of my home. So proud that I wore my Seahawks shirt to the pilgrim’s dinner. Ann from the Mt. Baker neighborhood of Seattle came over to say hello, while we were dining with our new friends from Stuttgart.

We called this “The Meseta Tree”, as in… this is the only one.

Crossing the Arlonzon leaving Burgos

Our boy Domingo, “The Architect of the Camino”. Ben and I are on Team Dom. Leaving Burgos.

Meseta Warrior

I think we’re lost

Heading for bocadillos in Hornillos del Camino

The structures in the Meseta are mostly mud and brick. Birds nest all over them.

Ben calls this view “Windows XP”. Get used to it.

Don Quixote, “The Man of LaMancha” is from the Meseta. I did not see him tilting at windmills out there.

Entering Hontanas

Iglesia de la Immaculada Concepcion

Iglesia de la Immaculada Concepcion

Lentils with our new friends from Stuttgart.

Another long day on the Meseta tomorrow. Buen Camino.