Burgos marks the transition from the trees and mountains into the high plains. Much of what I’ve heard about this section is that it’s brutal. I had originally planned to bring a small umbrella for this section specifically, but ultimately decided that I could always pick one up in Spain if I really needed one.
I head out before sunrise on the first full day – Anxious to get started and to learn what I’m in for over the next week. I’m helped by the fact that my albergue-mates are up early and are making all the noise. As we stream out of the small town, I’m reminded that while it’s possible to be lonely on the Camino, it’s very difficult to be alone.
A small climb to a plateau completes the transition. I take a moment to turn around to see where I’ve been and catch the sunrise behind.
The morning is quite cool, but as soon as the sun starts to hit, I can feel the intensity. I take a moment to slather sunscreen on the backs of my ears and specifically on my left arm. Because of the layout of the Camino, one’s left back is always in the sun. And because I use trekking poles, my left hand is already starting to pick up much more sun than my right.
I make it to my next stop by 1. I get checked in and head up to my room to rest and clean up. After getting all (most) of the dust out my hair and some of the blood out of my feet (I find laying in bed, upside down, with my legs and feet up the wall especially effective,) I head to the courtyard for a beer. It’s almost 5 and the sun is still absolutely brutal. Once I tuck into shade under an awning, the air is still really cool though. I can see that I’m going to have to make some adjustments to ensure that I’m not caught out in the afternoons.
At the communal dinner, conversation turns to Camino gossip, specifically who’s where and making what progress. There is a lot of talk specifically about all of the ‘young’ people who have dropped out. Young here means anything from late teens to mid-fourties, so make of that what you will. Blisters seem to be doing in a large number of people, but there are a handful of shin splints, falls, and general illness. Depending on the cohort, numbers seem to be anywhere from 30-60%, but I have to believe those high numbers are largely due to people simply losing track of others. Still, a sobering thought.
The first two weeks of this trip, it seemed like I was passing a memorial to a fallen perigrino once or twice a day, every day. As the kilometers wore on, the modern monuments thinned. However it soon dawned on my that about every third town I passed made mention of ruins of a hospital for pilgrims. While I don’t have a sense of the numbers for those ancient journeys, it provides a grim context for the gossip and monuments.
I am grateful that I’m feeling relatively good. I’ve got a couple of blisters in various stages, but nothing dabilitating. I’m definitely not the fastest walker, but I’m making steady progress and any pains I have are fleeting. At some point here in the meseta I will officially pass the halfway point (although what exactly is halfway varies on what you count as the start point, and apparently who is doing the measuring.) Fingers crossed that my luck continues to hold as I make my way into the back half of this journey!
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