We hoped to get breakfast at the bar in San Juan de Ortega, but this was closed when we left the albergue and so we had to go back inside and got drinks and a snacks from the vending machine in the foyer.
The
weather was fairly miserable; the final effects of the edge of the storm that
had been causing havoc in the South of France was making itself felt and it was
cold and wet with a strong wind still blowing. We had not got far down the lane
when a downpour started and I had to stop and don my poncho.
Climbing
over a small hill after leaving San Juan, we fell into conversation with a
young Irish couple from Dublin who were walking to Burgos and then hiring bikes
to cycle across the Meseta. I had heard descriptions of how flat, boring and
soul-less the high Meseta plateau was and we were reaching it in a couple of
days, I was quite concerned; I was determined though, that I would be walking
across it and not cycling or indeed , giving it a miss altogether, like some
people do.
Descending
the hill into Agés village, the path was very exposed and as the wind was very
strong, my poncho kept inflating and fluttering noisily in the cross-wind and I
felt rather like a 16th century Spanish Galleon weathering heavy
weather around the coast of Britain during the 1588 Armada!
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| Matthew & David approaching Agés |
There
was a café open at Agés, but as we had just had a snack half an hour earlier so
we opted to wait for breakfast until Atapuerca. This was a big mistake!
Just
after Agés there is a pretty little medieval bridge over the rio Vena built by
San Juan de Ortega – a modern road and bridge runs close beside it and other
pilgrims were dashing past and ignoring it, but I took the time to take the
little detour to cross it like my ancient pilgrim forbears and think about San
Juan and Santo Domingo developing the early Camino route. Going by the sign
beside the bridge, some pilgrims at least are oblivious to the bridge’s
historical significance and only view as a convenient place for the toilet!
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| Crossing San Juan de Ortega's bridge over the rio Vena |
This got me thinking about one type of person you meet on the Camino who just
seems to be eager to dash from place to place as fast possible and never seems
to take in the wonderful scenery and places around them. A Latvian friend of
mine in Ireland has another friend who was “walking” the Camino the same time
as us and doing it in 50km stages per day. This, to my mind, is totally missing
the point of the Camino which surely is an opportunity to take time out from
normal life and allow space for reflection, spiritual reflection and personal
engagement with God?
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| Graphic toilet ban sign at bridge! |
Approaching
Atapuerca there was a modern circle of standing stones. Near this site the
“Battle” of Atapuerca took place in 1054 when the Navarrese king Don García was
killed by his brother Fernando I of Castille and Leon in a jousting contest to
settle a dispute concerning the areas of Briviesca and Montes de Oca (we saw
his tomb back at Najera). On the hills above the village, archaeological
investigations of prehistoric remains found in the caves that honeycomb the
area have identified them as being the oldest human remains found in Europe
(reputedly dating back 900,000 years).
We
were cold, dripping in the rain and very hungry, when we reached Atapuerca and
I felt I was hungry enough to kill a wild bison or woolly mammoth like my
prehistoric ancestors, but they were long gone from the surrounding sodden fields
although we scoured the entire village, every café was also closed and not a
living soul or stray dog could be seen Atapuerca apart from a few Northern
Irish pilgrims walking through who passed the time of day with us and then
moved on. The inhabitants of Atapuerca seemed to have become extinct like their
prehistoric ancestors! We stopped at a fountain to shiver and eat an orange
each that David handed us as well as a few nuts and raisins. What we really
wanted though, was some warm drinks and decent food and I began to dream of
pintxos (with a glass of Rioja and tortilla potato, all washed down with a
final café con leche.
 |
| Cross on Matagrande |
Disconsolately,
we trudged on and now had to ascend the steep little hill of Matagrande to reach a cross at
1,070m. The going was hard as the path consisted of eroded stony ground, made muddy
and slippery by all the rain, but Matthew and I made the best of it and I got
my Kindle out and we did Morning Prayer together and sang some worship songs.
We again found the Old Testament reading appropriate as we slipped over the mud
as it was from Jeremiah 38:1-13 and talked about the Prophet Jeremiah being
thrown into a cistern and sinking into the mud! David was leading up the rear
as he sometimes has to take hills slowly because he starts to get a roaring in
his ears if he over exerts himself, but commented on the singing of angels that
he heard when he reached us at the cross – the wind had carried our singing
down the hill to him or maybe we were just very loud?
 |
| David ascending Matagrande |
There
was an optional route across the high ground, but we were by now so ravenous
that we descended to Viilaval in the hope of finding a café. Nothing! There was
a Roman Well to be seen, but even I was so hungry I couldn’t really care!
We
trudged into Cardeñuela and oh joy; there was finally a café! I downed a thick
and filling fruit smoothy, devoured a rather excellent chorizo omelette and
finished off with a Café con leche. Surely there is a business opportunity for
some enterprising individual to open a café between Agés and Cardeñuela? By the
time we finished gulping and guzzling, the café was fairly empty apart from a
Glaswegian pilgrim that I had chatted to at Villaval. An interesting character
in his mid thirties who had a red beard and interesting South American style felt
bowler hat; he was still sitting in the café as we left, creating interesting
impressionistic art work by staining watercolour paper with coffee dripped from
a straw.
We
left the café thinking things were looking up; from now on there must be more
places to eat and drink and we were sure we wouldn’t get into such a state of
hunger again? Wrong!
 |
| Orbaneja |
We
carried on through Orbaneja and over the A-1 motorway. Shortly after this there
was an optional route that was recommended by John Brierley in his guidebook,
which we wanted to take as it brought us into Burgos along the side of the
river. At first the optional route seemed unclear, as it descended an
indistinct path beside a modern housing estate, but we soon picked up the yellow
arrows again. The path took us cross-country through fields and alongside the
security fence of Burgos Airport. After all the rain, the path consisted of
thick cloying mud that suck to our boots and made them very heavy. It was
extremely hard, tiring work to walk and we began to regret taking the path. It
was after 12.00pm by now, so Matthew and I took our mind off the mud by
reciting Midday Prayer as I tried not to drop my Kindle in it. The path
alongside the airport fence seemed interminable and at one stage the three of
us sat on a concrete bridge to eat a snack and rest for a moment.
 |
| David and Matthew sharing a joke at Orbaneja |
Finally,
we reached the Burgos suburb of Castañares. Time for lunch – surely there must
be a café here that was open? Nothing could be found, which I found astounding!
We walked on, leaving the suburb and entering a pleasant leafy country park
that ran alongside the rio Arlanzón into Burgos. The storm that had dogged us
since we arrived had finally departed and the sun was coming out. Locals were
out walking their dogs or jogging and I began to feel quite cheerful. Matthew
however, was starting to lag far behind David and I as his knee was hurting and
being in his mid-twenties, and therefore largely unacquainted with his own
mortality unlike us middle aged guys, was not used to aches and pains in his
body! He was quite put out by this new phenomenon! When I ribbed him later
about the old fellas leading the way into Burgos while the young tried to keep
up, he retorted that every day he spent with me made him feel young and fit as
I was so near death’s door that he was reminded of his mortality just by
looking at me! No respect for his elders!
We
entered the outskirts of Burgos. I was keen to visit the Carthusian Monastery
of Cartuja de Miraflores. This involved
a detour, which looked quite short on the map, but turned out to take about
thirty minutes or so and also involved a tiresome walk alongside a ring road
and a climb up quite a steep hill. Matthew wasn’t very happy about this and I
sensed mutiny might not be far off if we didn’t feed him! We were relieved to
spot a café as we reached the top of the hill as by now we were again very
hungry, but were dismayed to find it was closed for during wintermonths! As it
was 1pm and the monastery closed at 2pm
– 4pm, there was nothing for it but to visit it without having lunch first.
Despite my hunger I found
Cartuja de Miraflores one of the most architecturally beautiful monasteries I have
visited on the Camino and well worth the detour (although I doubt Matthew would
agree with me!). As we climbed the final hill a priest and a group of Senior
Citizens passed us, commenting in Spanish about the “Pereginos”. Apparently
they too were on a pilgrimage as I later discovered that the 6th
October was also the anniversary of the death of the Founder of the Carthusian
Order, St. Bruno. This wonderful place deserves a description all of its own,
so more in my next post.
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