The Prancing Pony

I had a restless night’s sleep. We both did. We had a very difficult day of walking planned, and the weather forecast was not good. I woke every hour to check it, constantly changing. We might get a few dry hours mid-morning at 1am, that window had closed at 2am, we should get up and start walking now at 3am, no chance of staying dry at 4am. I can hear the early morning cars sloshing through puddles in the street at 5am.

The Guide Book had us walking another long day, uphill all the way, as we returned to the mountains. The advice had us starting the last ascent of the Camino today with 23.7 km (14.7 miles) to La Faba. That wasn’t our plan. We intended to start and finish this climb today. Many days ago Ben had convinced me to walk past La Faba and continue the additional 5 km to the summit at O Cebreiro. He hasn’t been wrong yet, and his logic was sound. The accommodations were better at O Cebreiro. Also, he knows how we roll. Even though we would be tired we would be in the zone, wet and grimy, why not power through to the top now? It would save us from starting cold and stiff with that climb in the morning.

Finally, it had added a significant motivator to the day. In reaching O Cebreiro we would cross the border from Castilla y Leon into the last of the four autonomous communities of Spain on our journey, Galicia.

However, this created a Camino busting 28.7 km (17.8 miles) of mountain climbing for the day.

As with all nighttime fears, things aren’t as scary in the light of day. We closed up with our host in Villafranca after she put homemade cake and espresso’s in us, and for the first time hoisted on our bright red ponchos from the Sports Hurricane. It was a dreary morning with other poncho clad pilgrims shuffling their way West into the hills. “I feel invincible in this poncho”, Ben said to me. “I don’t care how hard it rains.” It felt like 3 pounds had just been pulled out of my pack.

We made the first 5K to Pereje in good time, veering off the highway to walk through the little town through bright green trees. “The poncho makes this feel like any other walking day, and it’s so lush and green out here”, Ben said to himself but loud enough for me to hear. Another 3 pounds dropped out of my pack.

We made 10K and 2nd breakfast in Trabadelo in record time. As I pulled my poncho off, soaked to the bone not from rain but from sweat, Ben said to me “That was easy”. Another 3 pounds.

We gutted the mid-day 10 km in equally dominating fashion, firing on all cylinders. I was feeling pretty good about myself pulling into lunch at 20.5 km, in the last town before the steep part of the climb. “What was I afraid of? I’m killing this!”, I thought as I put my sweat soaked pack down. I felt so good that I pulled my poncho off with a victorious “Yeah!!!” That’s when I tore my poncho across the back from one shoulder clean through to the other, so that my head was sticking through the massive tear.

I am the Clark Griswold of the Camino.

Ben just gave a smile and a knowing thought bubble of “there’s always something…” We went in for lunch and while Ben procured our bocadillos I set to my ruined poncho with medical tape and the safety pins I’ve been using to drain our blisters. My spirits were lifted during this procedure by a kind new pilgrim from Labrador (Canada). He has also come from St. Jean and has his own tale for why he’s on this journey that I won’t share here.

Leaving lunch in Herrerias we caught a break in the weather and started up the steep climb to La Faba and beyond to O Cebreiro. With 21 km already on the feet, we had 8 km of steep muddy trail in front of us. A vertical gain of 2,300’ in those 5 miles. I welcome any trigonometry expert out there to calculate the angle, I think it’s a sine function. I just know it was steep, and I was pushed to my very limit.

About 2 km from O Cebreiro it started to pour. About 1 km away we crossed into Galicia. We will celebrate and discuss our return to Galicia tomorrow. Today we celebrate the crossing of Castilla y Leon. Over the past 17 days we didn’t just skirt Spain’s largest autonomous community. We walked 411 km (255 miles) straight across the heart of it. We walked across its provinces of Burgos, Palencia, and Leon. Ten of those days were crossing the mighty Meseta.

We were exhausted and totally drenched when we pushed open the door to the bar at Casa Carolo. It was really warm inside. It was the coolest medieval bar we’ve been in. Every dry and happy patron inside turned to look at us in unison. That’s when we knew… dripping there in our ponchos, we had arrived at The Prancing Pony. (Nerdy Lord of the Rings reference.)

When Ben guessed that the accommodations would be better in O Cebreiro he nailed it. We were ushered to our warm little room at the Inn. After hot showers we were able to drop off laundry! (We haven’t been able to do laundry in 10 days now. And we only have room in our packs for about 1 ½ sets of hiking clothes each, so you do the math. Want to enter our albergue room?)

This one block cobblestone town at the top of the mountains even had a trinket shop where I could buy a replacement poncho. From there we were back at The Prancing Pony to celebrate our accomplishment with a cold beer. There we witnessed the end of the Camino for a kind old Italian lady that we had seen many times, as she was ushered to an ambulance and off to Lugo. I don’t have space here to tell the tale, but pilgrims of every nationality were there to help.

We returned through clouds in the streets to the Inn for a fine pilgrim’s menu later. As we dashed through chilly clouds rolling through the streets to dinner we agreed that it felt like we were on the top of the world. Sharing a platter of spaghetti Bolognese and a bottle of Bierzo, reflecting on the day, I realized that in years to come we will remember this as one of the best we ever spent together.

Good night, literally and figuratively, from the top of the world.

Buen Camino.

We've walked through Navarre, La Rioja, Castilla y Leon, to get to Galicia.

Entering Pereje

Traffic jam in Laguna, last town before O Cebreiro

Back atop the Cantabrians

The Prancing Pony