- Time of past OR future Camino
- Except the Francés
To Ávila
An early start, blissfully, for the first time this camino, in a bath long enough for a normal height northern European male to fit in comfortably.
Less than an hour after starting, I was at the delightfully named Puerto de Arrebatacapas, taking a last fond look down over La Mancha.
Then, sadly, entering into a cloud at about 1100m. The camino goes over a wide boulder-strewn upland heath with the path not being very obvious. And poor visibility making spotting arrows more difficult. Slowing progress. When I got to San Bartolomé de Pinares at around 11.30, and the cloud ahead still looked low, I was unsure whether to risk carrying on, or stay in San Bartolomé. After 30 minutes in the bar - much nicer than it used to be - the cloud cover had moved up to 1500m, so it seemed worth carrying on. Especially as I have a strong, but possibly false, memory that the albergue in San Bartolomé is upstairs from the funeral parlour.
And I'm so glad I carried on, as the next five hours were spectacular. Bright warm autumn colours, the clouds gradually vanishing altogether, occasional hen harriers, pretty Limousin-like calves busy turning mountain grass into chuletón,
a few (very few) people out for a Sunday stroll, glorious upland scenery, almost perfect way-marking and delicious sierra water filling water troughs. The poplars were especially gorgeous - as Machado put it "he vuelto a ver los álamos dorados, álamos del camino en la ribera ...".
The next pass is the Puerto de El Boquerón, at 1315m, and the path then goes up to the day's high point at 1375m. Highest point of this year's camino for me, I think - certainly higher than anything ahead.
Eventually, Ávila became visible from about 10km out - the honey walls catching the afternoon sunlight even at that distance.
It was still a slog to get into town, and, to paraphrase, I "tired the sun with walking, and sent him down the sky". Hitting the city centre just as Venus was setting into the south west.
Seeing from the Diario de Ávila on the zinc in a bar on the outskirts of town that a delegation of Hungarian pilgrims seems to have blocked-booked the albergue, I telephoned to the Doña Juana hostal, just off the Plaza de Santa Teresa, for two nights. Seems fine, and reasonably priced. And I remembered to turn off the wake-up alarm for tomorrow morning.
An early start, blissfully, for the first time this camino, in a bath long enough for a normal height northern European male to fit in comfortably.
Less than an hour after starting, I was at the delightfully named Puerto de Arrebatacapas, taking a last fond look down over La Mancha.
Then, sadly, entering into a cloud at about 1100m. The camino goes over a wide boulder-strewn upland heath with the path not being very obvious. And poor visibility making spotting arrows more difficult. Slowing progress. When I got to San Bartolomé de Pinares at around 11.30, and the cloud ahead still looked low, I was unsure whether to risk carrying on, or stay in San Bartolomé. After 30 minutes in the bar - much nicer than it used to be - the cloud cover had moved up to 1500m, so it seemed worth carrying on. Especially as I have a strong, but possibly false, memory that the albergue in San Bartolomé is upstairs from the funeral parlour.
And I'm so glad I carried on, as the next five hours were spectacular. Bright warm autumn colours, the clouds gradually vanishing altogether, occasional hen harriers, pretty Limousin-like calves busy turning mountain grass into chuletón,
a few (very few) people out for a Sunday stroll, glorious upland scenery, almost perfect way-marking and delicious sierra water filling water troughs. The poplars were especially gorgeous - as Machado put it "he vuelto a ver los álamos dorados, álamos del camino en la ribera ...".
The next pass is the Puerto de El Boquerón, at 1315m, and the path then goes up to the day's high point at 1375m. Highest point of this year's camino for me, I think - certainly higher than anything ahead.
Eventually, Ávila became visible from about 10km out - the honey walls catching the afternoon sunlight even at that distance.
It was still a slog to get into town, and, to paraphrase, I "tired the sun with walking, and sent him down the sky". Hitting the city centre just as Venus was setting into the south west.
Seeing from the Diario de Ávila on the zinc in a bar on the outskirts of town that a delegation of Hungarian pilgrims seems to have blocked-booked the albergue, I telephoned to the Doña Juana hostal, just off the Plaza de Santa Teresa, for two nights. Seems fine, and reasonably priced. And I remembered to turn off the wake-up alarm for tomorrow morning.
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