The Big Walk

Motorway Madness - Day 13

We set off downhill towards a spectacular sunrise. We’ve now left Galicia and entered Castille and Leon. It’s an odd feeling to suddenly realise we’ve left behind one of the regions whose names have absorbed me for the last three years of daydreaming, slowly transformed into planning.

An early morning farmer riding his horse saves us from descending the wrong path. Instead we head down a steep and stony track, the remains of the original paving giving perhaps the roughest going underfoot so far. Zig zags wound through chestnut woods down into a green valley. On this side of the mountains, the hills are grassier, and the green slopes, trees and slate-built villages combine to make it look like the Lake District back home. Further down, this delightful scene is scarred by the recent construction of a motorway to La Coruña, going through many tunnels and along high overpasses. Huge swathes of hillside above have been stripped bare and ugly scars are everywhere. This is a European Union funded project, designed to pump money into Galicia, one of the EU’s poorest regions. It’s so much easier for distant bureaucrats to spend their billions of aid on a giant motorway than to find out what people really need. Gallingly, there’s barely any traffic on it. The developers seem to have forgotten about the camino and had to paint new markings on the road for it at the last minute, narrowing the road and leaving pilgrims only feet away from the cars. After a few miles we turn off onto an alternative high route via Pradela to avoid any more anger.

This is much pleasanter, though the road and surrounding damage still scars every view, but it’s extremely steep. We manage it quickly, which augurs well for our fitness, but the temperature soars and we have to head to a farmhouse for cooling water. Once above the chestnut woods we roast in the sun on the final descent to Villafranca del Bierzo. A Templar castle looks down on this fine town, with a cobbled main street (along the camino route) lined by old, imposing town houses rich with wooden carvings and galleries. On one of the old churches is the elaborate Puerto del Perdon or doorway of forgiveness. Sick or weak pilgrims who couldn’t face the climb up to O Cebreiro could end their journey here and receive the same favours as at Santiago – halving of the amount of time they would have to spend in Purgatory.

Last night I plucked up the courage to book a hotel room here by telephone – my first ever call in Spanish, but it takes us about twenty minutes to find the place from my scarcely understood directions. It’s a beautiful fifteenth century mansion, faded but with spacious rooms with dark, wide floorboards and antique furniture. Best of all, the thick walls and shutters make it a cool refuge from the heat outside.