Woman on Her Way

June 2: Being Lisboa tourist

Slow start this morning. After an 11 A.M. brunch we toured the city. First we went to the ancient Se Cathedral. The insides reminded me of my childhood church, Our Lady of Sorrows in Hartford, CT. We stayed a while to listen to the choir.

From there we headed towards the shoreline and watched sailboats and other tourists. For the first time in weeks, I am warm, even seeking the shady side of the streets as we head towards the Church of Our Lady of Martyrs to get our credential stamped. On the way we pass many “Largos” or squares. Lisboa has seven hills and before long, we realized that after a month of biking, we need to develop different leg muscles, especially in the calves.

We found the Igreja dos Martires without difficulty. I asked a sexton where to get the carimbo, the pilgrim’s stamp; he lead me to an unmarked door on the left side of the church as you face the altar. Inside and with difficulty, I explained what we needed and our credentials now bear the parish stamp. We have started our Camino Portuguese, though we still feel like tourist.

After treating ourselves to Ben & Jerry (of course, mine was the chocolate fudge brownie), Dennis took a nap. As I typed this blog and used Google translate to learn Portuguese, I can hear traditional music coming from the cathedral square, making me feel serene and happy to be in Lisboa.

June 1: Busing to Lisboa

We got to the bus station about an hour before departure time. Two Portugal-bound buses arrived and people speaking a variety of languages descended on them, trying to figure out which bus to take. Each bus driver told me, “Not this bus, other.” We and several others had no idea what to do. Our departure time was approaching and there was no one on the platform to assist us.

Someone who had gone to the ALSA (bus line) info office said that the bus to Lisboa would arrive shortly. The speaker turned out to be Neville, a moderator on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela Forum. Dennis kept wondering why there was no communication with the passengers and why the authorities did not use the monitor on the wall which showed the various trains and routes to indicate arrivals, departures, and platforms as is done in train stations and airports. Sometimes the obvious seems too easy.

Ten minutes before our scheduled departure time, the bus arrived and we departed the terminal about 15 minutes late. This long distance bus had reclining seats, movies, air-conditioning, but no toilet. When the driver pulled into the station announcing a 10-minute stop, most of the passengers ran off to the facilities–I was in the lead (hearing the William Tell Overture in my mind), not wanting to be left behind.

At our next pit stop, we could not find the toilets. As a last resort, I went to the information office. The person behind the desk pointed to a key on the wall and indicated the back of the building. The key fit the lock on a nondescript door; it must have been a private toilet. When I got out, there was a line of people who I recognized as fellow passengers waiting for to use the johns.

The following break was in Portugal. The signage there is not “Aseos” as is Spain but W/C. I recognized that from my time in France forty years ago. There were three toilets in the women’s and I was in the first group of users. When we got out, the three of us panicked–the bus was gone. No sign of Dennis, backpacks, nothing! At last, someone told us to wait, the bus had only left for washing and would return shortly. When it arrived, Dennis who had stayed on the bus, told me how he too had panicked when the bus start to leave. Should he get off the bus and leave our belongings or stay with them and hope to meet up with me later. Luckily, it all worked out.

We arrived in Lisboa about two hours later than scheduled, around 8 pm (and with the time shift after sitting on the bus for 10 hours). At the station, I felt overwhelmed with the strangeness of being in a country where I did not speak the language, know the customs, or even where to go next. There were no signs indicating how to get out of the terminal, the location of the taxis, nothing. I asked the person standing next to me where she was going and we shared a taxi to the center of the Old Quarter. We are staying in the pension São João da Praça. We huffed up four flights to our room, then went for supper to a restaurant around the corner called Almargem, which turned out to be one of the most traditional restaurants in Lisboa. I had sardines and Dennis had a fish stew. It was a long day.

This morning we realized that from our room we see the Rio Tejo (the Tagus River) and hear the cathedral bells which is across the street. It is sunny and will be in the 80’s today…first time in over a month that I will be warm. Hooray!

May 31: Preparing for Portugal

When we were on the way to Santiago, we had to transfer trains. While we had a tea at the depot, I spotted a man ordering a clear liquid, which he poured into his coffee. The bartender said it was a local beverage called aguardiente, made by distilling what is left of the fruit after making wine, very potent 42% alcohol. Last night after dinner, we shared a shot. It is very strong, like vodka, but with a sweet aftertaste.

We spent the morning sorting out our belongings: pile for shipping home, pile for backpacking, pile for leaving with bikes. Dennis then rode his bike to where we are storing it and then returned for mine, since I can’t ride on account of the gashed knee. I met him in town, went to the UPS store and then to the bus station, where we bought tickets for Lisbon. Our preparing for Portugal is done: tomorrow we are off, no longer bicigrinos but peregrinos. We celebrated this fact with a meal at Cafe Monolo in the Old Quarter; I had octopus stew, grilled squid, and half a bottle of wine.

I have an over-packed backpack. How did I manage on the last Camino? I know somehow it will all come together.

May 30: Santiago

A lot has happened since Sahagún. We left town late, waiting for the shops to open to buy spare tubes after having the three flats. It was a lovely day for a ride, warming up with the sun and easy rolling hills. We decided to stay at Mansilla de las Mulasat the albergue Amigos del Peregrino where we stayed two years ago because they have a gas paella grill. After we settled in, we walked around the town taking photos and then we had a glass of beer/wine, complements of Michel Sanchez. Dennis tried on a pilgrim costume and I tought he looked authentic. We found four other pilgrims willing to share the paella. Michel and I went shopping, and then everyone joined in the preparations. I missed this community activity earlier on the Camino Juame where there we so few pilgrims, and am glad to get back to it on the Camino Frances.

We left Mansilla in the cold weather and could see that it was snowing in the mountains. About 4 miles from León, we stopped at the famous Bar La Torre in Arcahueja. Michel and I both added to the wall mural. There were other pilgrims there who were also adding their mark to the bar front. I wonder how often the owner paints over everything, providing a clean slate for other pilgrims.

We arrived in León midday. Our plan was to quickly see the city and cathedral and then move on. And then I fell on a curb, barely 1.5 inches tall, which I did not see. Thinking nothing was wrong, I started to get up and then felt a sting. Looking at my leg, I found that I had gashed it across the kneecap. When Michel saw the 4-in. gap, he went in search of medical help. In the mean time, a person walking by saw my leg and ran to the pharmacy for saline solution, Benedictine, and gauze. He cleaned the wound, wrapped it, and left. It happened so fast, that I never had time to thank the Good Samaritan. Very quickly the rescue came and took me to the hospital, with Dennis trying to keep up on his bike. When he lost track of the ambulance, Dennis tried with his limited Spanish to get directions. At last, a Spaniard asked if he spoke German, and then proceed to explain the way to him. Dennis was relieved and grateful to her.

I received about 20 stitches and instructions to stay off the bike for at least a month. Consequently our plans changed. I have no regret about taking the train from León to Santiago, nor about missing the hills, the snow, and the front West winds. I do regret not having been able to say goodbye to Michel.

Since only the local trains take bicycles, it took us eight hours by train to ride about 200 miles between León and Santiago. It was pleasant and we got to see a lot of Galicia and the rural country side. The disadvantage was that we arrived in Santiago at 12:30 A.M., only to find that a convention had filled all the hotels. After pushing my bike around town for almost two hours, a kind hotel receptionist found us a room on the outskirts of the city, near Monte de Gozo. A taxi drove us there and we climbed into bed–exhausted–about 3:00 A.M.

Today, we retrieved our backpacks from the UPS store, did some shopping, check on the train schedule for Lisbon, and took a long nap. Tomorrow we will finish our preparations and, most likely, leave for Lisbon the following day.

May 26: Sahagún

We had three flats today, two before breakfast and leaving the albergue. It wasn’t too cold riding, and I quickly shed one layer and ear warmers. Michele rode the first stage to Carrión de los Condes and waited a half hour for us to catch up to him. We had the last flat (down to only one spare tube), had to wait for sheep to pass us twice, and passed a trio of horse riders.

As we rode today, I marveled at how green the Meseta is in the spring compared to the brown autumn hues, smelled freshly mowed hay, saw snow in the mountains which made me think of Kilimanjaro, and heard the co0coo bird. My left wrist is doing OK, but shifting is a bit painful and, after riding 70 km (42 mi) is was swollen. After icing, the hand looked more like my other. We are about 70 km from León, Spain. Depending on weather, (rain predicted) we might be there tomorrow.

We are staying in at Albergue Viatoris in Sahagún, a hostel for bicigrinos (bicycling pilgrims). There must be at least 50 bikers here. Dinner should be entertaining. Looking forward to it.

May 23 to 25 Burgos to Boadilla

We left San Anton Abad in the cold about 10 A.M. Staying in hotels means we do not have to leave early as we do when we stay in albergues. It was an immediate 6% uphill 7 km ride on narrow shoulders and lots of truck traffic…not ideal. I pushed the bike for half the climb. But what a ride downhill! If biking were always that easy.

We arrived in Burgos early and stayed at the municipal albergue. After lunch we visited the Cathedral, only to find out afterward that we could have seen it for only 2.5 E had we shown our credentials. Inside the church was cold and we left after 1.5 hrs to warm up. It was freezing when we left the next day: 32 F.

Since we are following the road instead of the Camino that walkers take, we see different towns and sites, such as this stature of a pilgrim.

The ride today was great. The weather improved during the day and we bike mostly downhill and in the sun. As we tell Michel, a fellow cyclist, we are having fun in the sun.

We biked about 40 miles to Boadilla to stay at an albergue that I had noted on my previous Camino as an oasis, En el Camino. Wonderful folks, good food, and swimming pool, though it is too cold to use.

Yesterday I fell and sprained my wrist. This morning, the owner of the albergue drove me to the clinic where the doctor determined it was not broken and all I needed to do was us ibuprofen, ice, and a brace. Better yet, she said I could bike tomorrow. So we are staying another day, resting and enjoying the sun.

Note the storks on the building. From the albergue, we can hear them clacking the beaks.

May 21 and 22: Logroño to San Anto Abad

W hen we left it was 4 C (34 F) and overcast. We followed the Camino for 12 km (7.5 mi) because it was paved. Once over the dam, we got instructions from locals to ride to the end of the park and take the access road on the left. It didn’t look right, but we continue to the top, where a lawn keeper told us to go left, down the hill. There we rejoined the Camino. We pushed the bikes up the dirt path for about 2 km (1.2 mi) and got back onto pavement. From there we followed the N-120 to Sorte and then Naverette. Most of the bikers we lost, several told us to go back. Dennis is a good map reader and we arrived in Najera 31 km (19 mi) later. We biked most of the day in the cold rain, and I could go no further. The albergue we stayed at is one we stayed at 2 yrs. ago: 60 people in one room. Showers, by the time we got there were cool, but it felt great to get out of our wet clothes and into something dry.

After supper, we went to sleep at 9:30 P.M. The next morning they turned on the lights at 6 A.M, and we left the albergue by 8. It was a little warmer, but overcast. We used bags to keep our feet warmer and dry. The totes I had been using were shredded by walking on the Camino, the bags worked well and since they are in the shoes, will not get destroyed.

The ride today was on the N-120, very hilly and with heavy truck traffic. I find it very scary to have the semis whizzing by, buffeting us with the turbulence as they pass. The shoulder is very narrow with a ditch on the right. I must have been hyperventilating from the tension because I suddenly felt dizzy. After a break, we went a little slower.

We met Frank, a 67-year-old Norwegian who has biked all the way from Norway, towing a Bob Trailer. He suffers with the hills, telling us he has bad lungs. He is tough, pushing his bike up the high hills. I hope he makes it to Santiago and does not get discouraged with the challenging terrain.

We biked 55 km today to San Anton Abad, because we recalled that this was such a great 3-star hotel. The proprietors recalled us, and upgraded our room to a suite. How grand is that! I luxuriated in a hot tub, feeling all the tension leave. I am starting to have sore knees from all the climbing; it will be nice to get the high plains called the Meseta.

Dennis and I agree that biking in Spain is so much more difficult than hiking. As bikers, we are more affected by the temperature, the elevation changes, and the lack of signage than the walking pilgrims. Of course, this is an unusual year—even the Spaniards are complaining about the unseasonable cold and rainy weather.

May 20: Logroño

We left Tudela late, about noon. First we went to a ferretería (hardware store) to buy a screwdriver, flat washers, and combination padlock that we could use to lock our things in at the albergues. Dennis tightened all the screws loosen on the trail by the canal, then he cleaned the chain of sand, oiled it, and adjusted the seats. I am lucky he is so skilled in bicycle maintenance.

We followed the Camino out of Tudela. The first 12 km were paved, then the next 8 km were rough dirt roads. The pot holes were large enough to swallow a VW bug–definitely not fit for touring bikes. The road followed the railroad tracks and we passed acres of artichokes, pear and peach orchards, and recently plowed fields. Again, the north wind made pedaling difficult.

Once we arrived at Castlejon and discovered that there were no roads out of the town except for the N-232 (the national highway) and the Camino (more dirt roads). Frustrated, we called it quits and took the train to Logroño (about 70 miles away.)

Spanish trains have a special compartment for bikes. All we had to do was push the bikes onto to the train and then hook them on the mounts. Easy.

Once we disembarked in Logroño, the station had elevators large enough for the bikes. Thank goodness. I could not see myself on the escalator with the bike.

After settling in at the albergue, we walked around town, mailed something home (from the tobacco store which sold us an envelope and stamps), saw the cathedral, and then went out to eat.

We were early at the restaurant and had to wait about 20 minutes to get served. I was ready to eat my arm, not having eaten since breakfast. I dove into fresh, crusty bread, which took the edge of my appetite. I had fish soup, lamb with artichokes, and rice pudding for dessert. Everything was nicely seasoned and we left sated.

The restaurant, for those who might go to Logroño, is Cafe Moderna Bar. I highly recommend it.

May 19: Tudela

This morning was one of those days that makes most people want to stay in bed–rainy and cold. Other pilgrims were taking the train to Logrono and I was tempted. Dennis left the option to me, since I was the one thinking that the train fare could not be more than the cost of two nights in an albergue. Finally, I decided to move one. Dressed for the weather, we decided to ride the N-232. After riding 5 km (3 mi) up hill with a headwind to the entrance ramp, we discovered that we were not allowed on this section of the highway. We returned to the train station, but it was not yet opened. The only other way out of the city was the Camino on the side of the canal. We did not really want to take this since it had poured the during the night and the ground was wet and “sticky” for our skinny road tires. Without an alternative option, we set out for Tudela 34 km (21) miles away on the dirt and pebbly road. Touring bikes are not meant to be driven on this terrain. We jostled and bumped so much that we both ended up with saddle sores.

The sun came out and the view improved as we rode northwest. The ride was a gradual climb that would have been easily accomplished on mountain bikes. I stayed in the lower gears and tried to avoid the potholes and puddles. As our bottoms started to ache, we took more frequent breaks.

The view along the canal changed from mountains, to farmland, to tree copses. We heard birds, ducks, and saw storks. We passed a dilapidated church, a hermitage, several unidentified bridges with road crossings, villages, and a few levies. Since I was concentrating on the road, my view was mostly of my handlebars. Imagine coming all this way to see this glorious view!

At last, we came to the end of the Camino by the canal and onto paved roads. Again the signage was missing and we ended up driving to the exit of the highway. Of course, we peddled up hill. By this point, I took all my energy to make it to the top. Backtracking, Dennis made a good guess about which road to take and, at last, we arrived at Tudela. When we got to the albergue, it was closed. We noted to phone number and went in search of a pay phone. A kind waitress at a pastry shop, called the hostel. They only accepted large groups or people who made reservations 24 hours earlier. We were SOL. Too tired to continue, we booked a room at the first hotel we found. After a hot shower, we went in search of food. Spanish custom is to have the large meal on Sunday afternoon. By 6 p.m. most restaurants are closed. After walking about a half mile, we found a bar that served meals. We returned to the hotel around 10 p.m. and went to bed after a long and tiring day.

May 18: Gallur

When we left Zaragoza, it was overcast and about 50F. I had on all my gear. About 10 miles out, I took off my fleece jacket, but kept on the rain gear. We dodged raindrops all day.

We biked on just about all types of byways — city streets, highway, two-way local roads, one-lane country roads (camino rural) and dirt roads that were part of the Camino. What a joy it was to hear the birds, see fields of poppies, ride side-by-side, and even talk to each other.

We stopped in Alagon to avoid a storm and had wonderful tapas for lunch. We asked directions to the next town and eight people discussed the best way there. Seems everyone had an opinion. The proprietor used Goggle maps to help us.

It is so hard finding one’s way around Spain; there is just not adequate signage. Several times we came to intersections and guessed which way. Of course, we had a 50-50 chance of being wrong and needing to double back.

After about 35 miles, we arrived at the albergue in Gallur, just before it started to pour. Luck us. Hot shower, dinner, and then off to bed.