Navarrete

I was rather disappointed to find the Refugio was closed as I had hoped to sleep on a bed this time around but I did find El Cantaro which is a flat with the living room filled with bunk beds @10e and the bedrooms @18. Its a good place let down by the lack of  a cooker but its a small point. I do feel a little sorry for the owner who is very easy going as the workmanship in the flat is shocking.

Tiered after a long days cycle and a short nights sleep for my birthday I decided to spend a second night. I didn’t do much just enjoyed the town, cafe and the scenery. There is supposed to be a famous Virgin here, I must cast doubt on this as judging by the dress and attitude of the girls I met things have changed in Spain since I was last here.

During my day off an American arrived, “yes this is my fifth Camino blah, blah”. I didn’t bother talking to him much as phrases like  “don’t you have any imagination”? were marching with rather determined strides towards my lips and it just wasn’t worth the hassle.

I spent the next night in “Redecilla Del Camino” at the wonderful yet unheated Refugio in Pilar’s care, which was very welcome after a tough day on the road.

The following day was even worse, I counted an average of 400 articulated vehicles in less than one hour in one direction so by the time I reached “Ages” I was utterly exhausted psychologically and decided to leave the famously awful  approach to Burgos for the morning.  I had a great evening in Ages, the people are wonderful and introduced me to Orange Wine.

The next morning I could not face the road again so took a long detour that eventually joined the main road, however by this point there was a track beside the road leading all the way into Burgos.

I really don’t like Burgos, this is the second time I have had a bad feeling, poor welcome and felt uncomfortable in the city.

Yet I had approached it with an open mind, often you are unlucky in the people you meet. I parked outside the Tourist Information/ Cathedral went in to find somewhere safe to leave my bike. The attitude of the girl at Tourist information was appalling. I have rarley had such a poor reception, so ignoring her “burnt breakfast” styled attitude, I asked if I could leave my bike inside next to the Pilgrim rucksack space, so I could visit the Cathedral.

The look she gave me would have been appropriate, had I asked if short exposure to her face often turned milk  – which is what I was thinking. Unsurprisingly her answer was negative and she really could not deal with me asking why “it wasn’t possible”, if she had just decided on her own “it wasn’t possible”. I  asked this in reasonable neutral tones, but could see from the expression on her colleagues face that I was getting  nowhere and so thanked her for my warm helpful welcome to Burgos.

Outside the woman who had been begging when I arrived was being hassled by the cops and as I stood there taking a drink and deciding how I would proceed they decided to hassle me too. Starting the conversation off with “Is there a problem?” I suppose answering with “Well that depends on why you are here and why you start from that view point?” – It wasn’t the best move, but sour milk girl had me started. They were reasonable enough and I frankly told them what I thought of my reception in Burgos to which they just shrugged their shoulders and went inside.

I gave the woman outside the church the 5e that was the entry fee for the Cathedral and left, I don’t care how fake the picture of her family was, I would much rather she had the money than the city of Burgos.

Looking at the map, Fromista was well within daylight distance and I headed out of the city with that destination in mind. There was a bit of wind as I headed west and a few tricky junctions but I still made reasonable progress, it was when I turned south that my pace slowed.

Each kilometer passed slowly and at 16:00 I realised I would not make Fromista and headed for Castrojeriz. Paco the hospaterio here is a scream, we had a couple of beers together and I had a fabulous meal. The next day the wind was just punishing and by the time I reached “Carrion De Los Condes” I had had enough, sadly by the time I realised the Refugio “Espiritu Santo” was run by Nuns it was too late and I was being shown my bed.

Things went well and I met a young lad “Tom” from Manchester also on a bike, we and two Spaniards had dinner together. He and I stayed for one “Orujo con hierbas” and were paying the bill when I turned around to find this short, red faced woman staring at me with her hands on her hips.

My jovial “Buenas tardes Senjora” didnt really go well and she told us in certain terms that the door is locked at 22:00 and we should have returned 20min ago. So we were both sheepishly huckled from the bar, much to the amusement of the locals. Tom and I were hard pressed to constrain our amusement at being dragged from a bar by a Nun and it was with great relief that we burst into tears of laughter in the toilets when we arrived back.

Another day of fierce headwinds followed and I spent a couple of nights in Shagun waiting for the wind to pass.