im pretty much constantly behind on writing this so I keep forgetting the names of the places we’ve been. Besides everywhere in the Meseta really feels the same.
So the morning out of Carrion we were prepared for the worst because this was the morning with a 17k stretch of nothing.
No towns. No bars. No water. Nothing for miles. Only the warriest of travelers dare to embark on this treacherous morning. But like the merry little crew we are–we are up at 5am and heading out at 6ish. (Actually were not very small anymore cause we are currently travelling with a group of 11 people).
And the camino is getting more crowded.
We always start out as a group and then end up spreading out based on pace with Rosie the riveter leading the charge and Billy and I usually falling at the middle of the pack because whatever we are slow and usually get caught up singing disney songs. I think I’ve almost exhausted Billy’s patience with all of my disney. Poor boy has heard more of the little mermaid in the last week than his whole life before that most likely.
But then tragedy struck.
Because in the midst of the disney haze we came up Rosie on the ground and apparently she had like a massive pain in her foot. And so she was resuming the walk with a bit of a limp.
If the Camino can break Rosie than no one is safe!!
And just as our hope was failing on the 17k stretch we came across a mobile cafe! Where you can buy a can of soda that smells like shit and the little Spanish man can charge you 4 euros for it because he has monopoly on this little patch of desert!
And I asked for an espresso but I’m 98% sure he just took his normal brewed coffee and put it in a smaller glass and I paid him 2 euros for that shit. Bastard.
And finally we make it to a town and stop at a bar and meet this Norwegian guy who tells Rosie that her foot may be tendinitis. But he says it way more freaky like “that’s the Camino killer, little girl”. And he has this huge beard and basically in my head I can hear that music like “dun dun duuuuh”.
But then beardy tapes up Rosie’s foot nice and good and she marche on because she’s one tough motherfucker.
Billy’s not the most crippled one of the group anymore.
Oh happy day.
Actually Camille might be second cause she has her newbie blisters now and so it’s getting tougher for her but she’s such a trooper and my lord I love this girl she’s always in a good mood. And she’s always like “alright! Let’s go!” So we’re keeping a good morale folks.
Then billy puts on his music and goes into like super billy mode and with his crazy long legs it’s not far until he’s way the fuck over the horizon.
And I start listening to the score from Peter Pan and it’s not long until we’ve all reached this albergue a bit outside of Teredillos de Los templarios. And we’re all so tired that we agree to pay 9 euro for beds which is a bit more than our meager pilgrim budget allows but whatever.
The night was relatively lame. We found this extremely disappointing “supermarket” with like 2 loaves of bread and like a tin of sardines for sale. And we played more cards. (Solace for the bored and lonely) and then went to bed in nice little rooms.
So the next day was (surprise) more of the same mother fucking thing and I’m sorry to swear but there’s little less to write about when all you’ve seen for almost a week has been hot ass fields and the butts and backpacks of the pilgrims in front of you.
But we did see some sunflowers.
And this was the day that I started telling stories.
The first one was just brought up randomly when I started telling this story about a princess named Marzipan who could turn things to waffles and the next thing I know I’ve finished like a 30 minutes long tale with a conflict, a happy ending, and a moral (Billy says the moral is: find a fit bloke who loves waffles).
And then we caught up to Quentin and I continued with the best story of the trip so far which was Benjamin, Johnny, and the Banjo Boys. Which I’m considering making into a children’s book so I can’t give the plot away on this blog but let’s just say it’s about a banjo-playing frog.
We stopping in Sanghun and let the slow pokes catch up to us and then we set off on the last 8k to Bercianos.
And Billy and I went bat-shit crazy in the desert.
We didn’t see anyone for hours and it was hella hot and we were run mg out of water and I one point I’m almost crying cause my toes hurt so bad and we are passed by some woman walking the other way who is giving out free hugs. It couldn’t have come at a better time.
But the last few lonely kilometers we went a bit mental. I was convinced we had gone the wrong way. And I kept being like “shouldn’t we be there by now?”
But we made it.
And we found Quentin chilling with some other French friends and it didn’t take long for everyone to catch up to us and then Billy and Quentin decided they actually wanted to go further! To which I responded like “what the fuck is wrong with you”
But I convinced them to stay.
And then we had a huge dinner with everyone in the hostel and the hospiteleros sang us a weird version of “La Bamba” that involved the word peregrinos instead of “la bamba” but I was down with the song because I love singing.
And we made friends with this huge gay Canadian man named Ryan and his 4 girl friends. They are also fans of singing which is great because I need new dining partners. I think billy and I have sang every song we know by this point…
We went to sleep early but not before there was a bed bug scare that left Mark paranoid enough to go sleep outside in the courtyard. A bit of an overreaction but mark can turn anything into a good time and he insisted he loved sleeping out there.
And there was a beautiful sunset.