Day 27 - Ooh Heaven is a place on Earth - 27k

I left pretty early to get a good start on the trail, knowing that it’s after the sun has come up and burnt away the mist that the clouds start to build in the afternoon and the rain is usually heaviest then or early evening. It had rained constantly and torrentially in Hospital, only showers last night and thankfully quite clear this morning but a red sky again. The German girl has been staying in bed until 10:00 or 11:00 if possible or when kicked out by cleaners, whichever has come first. I can’t believe it and warn her again about buying food but teenagers will never learn, they think they know best and so do I so I had to leave her to it.

I stop at the famous Cowboy bar although it just seems like a run down shed to me, there’s the Dutch guy from Hospital de Orbigo at the counter, have a quick chat but I’m getting bored of meeting new people all the time, not knowing whether you’ll see them again, if it’s worth bothering to get to know them or not. The two guys i overtook yesterday afternoon are there too, although I just want to get on so make a sharp exit.

I have to wait for ages in Rabanal, knocking on the door next to the shop as requested by the sign only to have a woman appear from a window above and to the right, ask what I’m after and then disappear again. Whilst I’m waiting I think I see the German girl down the road, I go to wave but she’s off down the side street towards the refuges where I’ve just come from. I buy the place up, sweets for quick sugar fix, an orange, dried prunes and peanuts and more water and head out with my scarf wrapped three times round my head to keep my ears and neck warm as the wind is biting today and only getting worse the higher I climb. I’m at 3300ft or so already and there’s more to go today let alone down the other side, obviously the overall distance is less but given the added difficulty of climbing up or down and the extra time it takes, I push on not wanting to end up stuck somewhere in the Mountains.

Mountain Beetles everywhere sounding like mini Helicopters buzzing round your head

I get to a really quiet and ragged looking hamlet called Foncebadon and have to jog with 10 to 15 kilos of rucksack and slightly damp clothing to escape from a heavy drizzle that’s just started as I arrive. The restaurant next to the Albergue is open so I wander in off the street, that wouldn’t look amiss in an historical drama apart from the modern cars and machinery lying around. The two wood burners are smoking fiercely as they’ve only just been lit and it’s hard to breath but a comforting smell as I reach the counter to ask for a bottle of water off a huge man with the messiest hair and beard I’ve ever seen. Like a cross between Hagrid and Grizzly Adams he probably scares customers off and I think I hear his wife telling him the same thing whilst I sip my water and sit out a huge hail storm for twenty minutes.
My Cruz de Ferro experience was slightly ruined although I took it as another challenge to my patience and tolerance that the picnic area was full of car loads of French tourists with a priest. They were noisily enjoying a barbecue whilst I wanted some peace and quiet to take in what is quite a spectacle after all, an Iron cross on a huge staff above a cairn of rocks and stones carried there from home and left by previous pilgrims from all over the world. I managed to gather my thoughts and left a lot of baggage as well as the piece of slate picked up from Dads Japanese garden over four weeks ago and a prayer, my pack felt a lot lighter afterwards even though I’d only dropped a few grammes there was definitely less weight on my shoulders from then on.
The climb was amazing with the views opening up behind so that you can see right across the plateau to the towns left days ago and with huge snow capped peaks as your neighbours on the left, glad I’m going over the lowest point and not over them thar hills. I find Manjarin to be a tiny hamlet, no more than two shacks with smokey chimneys and a bell is rung as I approach by Tomas who devotes his life to aiding Pilgrims all year round.
I don’t stop although I’d been looking forward to staying there, however the thought of no shower after today’s walk was intolerable. I was managing not to keep to the plan I’d made beforehand to frequent the more rustic, basic Albergues as I figured they would hold the greatest benefits spiritually even if that meant less mod cons. That had gone out of the window as the thought of a cold shower or none at all when your back has been caked in sweat all day just wasn’t appealing and I’d gotten used to my routine of wash myself, wash my clothes, eat something, work on my feet, bedtime.
I am aware that the rain or whatever hits before the clouds are above you round here as it’s carried on the wind and what starts off as a light hail shower turns into a near blizzard in seconds, it’s really painful when you get struck in the ear or any exposed area of your face, like the bits you have to leave open so that you can see where you’re going. It’s freezing cold all of a sudden and just as quickly as it arrived the hail is gone, so is the cloud and wind, in fact there is no noise at all, no animals or birds and everything is still.






















In that moment I was in Heaven on Earth, experiencing something incredibly special and even harder to put into words. I could have stayed up there all day and was seriously considering the difficulty of getting planning permission to put a house on that spot. Someone came to mind who I would love to have shared that moment with and it wasn’t who I thought it would be at all, she’s at home and I hadn’t thought about her in ages until we’d chatted on the internet the night before, she was feeling down and I’d tried to cheer her up by reminding her what she had not what she didn’t. It wasn’t a romantic thought, just a desire for her to be there to experience what I was. It was so perfect, time stood still and other clichés, you had to be there… That’s what the Camino is all about.
































Shaken from my reverie by the lateness of the hour and the realisation that I really couldn’t strip off and fly away into the valleys and mountains like an Eagle no matter how much I would have liked to, I made my way to El Acebo (which I kept calling Aricebo, which is where the S.E.T.I. projects’ huge Radio antenna is in South America). Exhausted from the descent and in pain but much more emotionally drained than anything, I collapsed at the bar of the first place and tried to speak without bursting into tears. That Dutchman is there, his name is Rudi I think, with a ragbag of Pilgrims sat around a table getting on it but I just want a lie down, maybe cry myself to sleep but not really. After a shower I felt much better, it’s come on to rain heavily so Rudi has decided to stay here too, we chat a bit, I suppose I’ll have to get to know him and this lot as the two Austrian hares are there again and yet another German girl.