Again, the Meseta!

I woke up this morning with a sore throat, so I got some sore throat lozenges and hoped for the best. We had to cover 19km today, with a 13km stretch first thing with no services - meaning no mid-morning cafe con leche. Things were not looking good for today..

After another breakfast of basically toast and jam, we set out for Mansilla de las Mulas. As we walked out of town, I noticed that all of the trees along the path in El Burgos Ranero had little crocheted blankets around them. Like little scarves crocheted by tree elves to keep them warm. Not sure what the point is, but they were kinda cute.

Far on the horizon, we saw the mountains again. In another couple of days, that is where we’re headed. But for now, we had to focus on today. Given that I wasn’t feeling my best and there was a long stretch with no place to get additional water, I filled the water bladder to the full two-liter capacity. So I had to make many pee stops along the way.

As I walked out of town, I began to think about what happens in all of these hotels and albergues after the pilgrims leave for the day. There’s a mad rush between 6 and 8 AM, as all of the pilgrims pack up, wolf down their breakfast (and try to sneak additional fruit, cheese and bread into their packs for lunch) and head out for their next destination. Between 8 AM and noon-ish, the towns are much quieter. Perhaps the occasional groups of pilgrims wander through in search of an open restaurant for a café con Leche or second breakfast. But in the hotels and albergues, the work of turning over all of those rooms begins. Washing sheets and towels, sweeping, cleaning bathrooms. Some will be prepping food for midday and evening meals for a lot of hungry pilgrims. And then they will start to greet the new guests that will start arriving at 1-2pm. The people who greet us and check us in are almost always the same people who serve us dinner - and breakfast. They work long hours, most likely seven days a week from April through October, and then many of these places shut down for the winter. It seems a tough way to make a living. But they are always cheerful when they welcome us to their town.

Today I find myself grappling with that age old question, should we take the bus into Leon tomorrow or walk it like true pilgrims? (I should clarify that this is an age-old question that is pretty much applicable only to pilgrims walking the Camino Francis.) By all accounts, the walk into León is several kilometers of industrial roads and buildings, where pilgrims walk along asphalt right next to the freeway with truck after truck speeding past. It is devoid of any physical, mental or spiritual benefit. We have been getting reports from young and old pilgrims alike, who have walked it and said that it is very challenging; they recommend taking the bus. And yet there’s still that OCD critic in my head that whispers “what a wuss” when I contemplate the bus option. Am I, though? I’ve already walked over 400 km. Pushed through blisters, knee pain, hunger, thirst, heat, wind, fatigue and boredom. When I get to Santiago, will it be any less victorious if I didn’t walk those 18km to León? Will I be any less of a pilgrim if I took that one short cut? Which side of me will win out? The rational, compassionate side that wants to give myself a break? Or the hard-core, never give in side? We shall see.

The Meseta is starting to lose its charm after eight days. It’s not that the scenery never changes, but the terrain is so flat. I never thought I would say this, but I miss the hills. The landscape lacks the aliveness and variation of the Pyrenees and the foothills of the Basque country. Many of the small towns and villages along the Meseta are struggling to stay alive. While some seem to have some life still in them with lively hostels and spirited hospitalerios, many more seem like ghost towns in an old western movie. Crumbling buildings, many “Se vende” (for sale) signs; bars, cafés and hotels that look run down and neglected like the owners moved away or gave up long ago.

The closer we get to León, the more industrial it feels. We have been crisscrossing or walking parallel to busier roads and intersecting freeways. There are more gas stations and several agricultural processing plants and store houses on the edge of the villages. The center of town is still the church and some older buildings, but industry is encroaching on the borders and seeping into the soul of the towns. Yet there are signs (literally) along the way that keep me amused or inspired.

We arrived in Mansilla around 2pm, and I had to take a nap because I was still feeling a bit under the weather. After that, we explored the town, then stopped for a couple of beers at a bar with several other pilgrims (from Belgium, Austria, Canada and Ireland) and commiserated about the Meseta. We had a delicious meal at a restaurant near our hotel. This was the first place I have seen turkey on the menu since I’ve been in Spain (which I had just commented about to Rory yesterday). But there it was, so I ordered it. And then I realized that I had seen turkeys in the yard across the street from our hotel. I hope it wasn’t those turkeys… now I feel a bit guilty. (They were delicious though.)