Day 13 on Camino, June 17, Burgos to Hornillos

Camino Day 13: Burgos to Hornillos

Numbers: 13.14 miles per Garmin GPS and 34,065 steps and 47 floors per Fitbit.

Dave voice

A good day, not a great day, mostly on good surfaces and for a shorter distance (13.1 miles) with only excellent directions and cool, breezy weather. Three of our four knees are cooperating as well as nineteen of twenty toes. Good percentages. Scout had an awful-looking blister at the end of one pinkie toe but, since mine went bad first, I have seniority.

We’re on something called the Meseta today, wheat and barley country (again) and virtually deserted. Whatever Spanish farmers do between planting and harvest, they don’t do it out here. They also don’t seem to live out here; we see no farmhouses in the distance, no barns with dairy cattle waiting to be milked. Having lived on a dairy farm – reluctantly – for a few years as a youth, Dave is an expert on all things agricultural and finds this absence of sweating farmers a disappointment. (Of course, in those days he walked uphill through snow all year round to and from school and had to watch Lawrence Welk on black and white TV at night.)

Unfortunately, a long walk across farm roads isn’t exciting reading. (Really?) The highlights were 1) Meeting two women early on who were from Spain and Sardinia and who had themselves just met for the first time. We’re surprised at the number of young – and not so young – women who are doing the Camino on their own or in twosomes. How is this entertaining? Even writing a blog about it is a grind! Anyway, they’re out on the road, and only one so far has been hiking with her nose glued to her cell phone. (Haven’t seen her in a while; maybe she walked into a ditch.)

Highlight number two is a little hard to convey. We had…uh, stopped for a few moments, thus creating a gap between us and the Espana and Sardine ahead. They were stopped at a bridge in lengthy conversation with two other people though, by the time we reached the bridge, the two we knew and one of the other two, had gone on. That left Maria, who waylaid us with “Do you speak Spanish?” Why, no we don’t, thanks. “English? Good!” Maria is a local resident who stations herself by the bridge to help pilgrims a) wend their way through a nearby construction site, and b) not take the known alternative, which is a muddy quagmire right now. We were a little leery: What’s she selling? Does she want a donation or does she want to route us to an albergue/cafeteria/bar her employer owns? None of the above, it turns out. She’s a local who helps pilgrims, most of whom are foreign and not skilled at hoofing it through the Spanish countryside - with no ulterior motive. She asked that we remember her when we get to Santiago. Easy enough, since, in Franco’s day (ending in 1975), the law required that every woman be named Maria (and every man Jose).

While Maria is an extreme example, we have been hailed many, many times by average Joe and Mary types calling “Buen Camino!,” which literally means “Good road,” but, for this special purpose, means “Good journey!” These are average citizens offering good wishes to (obviously) American strangers. This isn’t France, where average citizens call out “We would have won those wars without you!” And “Elvis sucks!” (Okay, that only happened two or three times.)

We stop this afternoon in yet another seemingly deserted village, Hornillos (little stoves) de Camino (of the road) Not sure what this means, but, what the hey, it’s their town and they can name it whatever they want. There are a few side streets, but almost everything is on Calle Mayor, which is Spanish for “main drag” or perhaps “only drag.” Hornillos looks pretty good, a town with “bars” where the liquor bottles behind the bar do not appear to have been opened since Franco’s funeral. Bars also sell wine by the bottle, bread, candy, chips, Nutty Buddies, you name it whether there is or isn’t a “mercado” or “supermercado” around. In the case of Hormillos, the nearest “mercado” is the Wal-Mart in Burgos.

Although we have stopped in Hornillos, our hotel is in the nearby village of Isar, two kilometers away. As at San Juan de Ortega, the hotel desk clerk picks us up, delivering us to another village of similar dimensions and another room with no A/C though, when we opened the windows to dry our laundry only about a hundred flies came in. Hey, it’s rustic! It’s also why the Pilgrims came to America: to get A/C.

Flies or not, we’re listening to cuckoos and (very, very late) roosters crowing at 4:44 PM. We’re chillaxing in bed; we have another short day tomorrow and no rain in the forecast. Love it.

Deb voice

I simply can't add anything to what Daves's said except they we really do keep hearing cuckoos. And, one final note. I'm finishing this blog entry/uploading pictures in our hotel "bar." There are four men, probably all over 55, playing cards. I'm thinking they bought some drinks four hours ago and are still here. No one is hassling them to get out or buy something else. Yes, just like in the U.S.

Burgos: early morning

Camino sign today, and rocky one from yesterday

One of our views

Deb selfie

When was the last time you pumped water?

Dave and another man ahead of me headed into Hornillos

Typical afternoon: wine with laundry hanging

Views from our two hotel windows

In front of our hotel

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