Chapter 1

Camino del Norte










On Camino to
Santiago de Compostella
My search for the four leaf Clover
by

Peregrino Mike

ISBN 978 1 876696 14 6

Perth, West Australia

The latter months of 2004 and early 2005 had seen me consumed with the crazy passion again, to set off on another pilgrimage. For two years running now I had walked Caminos. First the French Camino and last year the Vía del Plata. Since arriving back home from the Vía del Plata I had been trying to put another trip together and thinking I’d never succeed, for one thing I was nearly broke.

I’d decided on the Camino del Norte from Irun to Santiago de Compostela about eight hundred kilometres mostly along the northern coast. One kind Spanish lady Mari Cruz sent me a good guide, although I had already translated a guide off the Internet site
http://www.mundicamino.com
The guidebook Mari Cruz had sent me ‘El Camino de Santiago del Norte’ had good maps but was full of wonderful photos that made it too heavy. I decided to copy the maps and use my own translation booklet for the description of the way for my journey.
My wife Maisie agreed to let me go and promised to help keep a web page running with my progress on it for friends to look at. With the help of a good friend, my first success had been succeeding in getting a plane ticket to Paris for May 2005. I walked twelve kilometres a day along the Canning river for months increasing the weight I was carrying till in the last six weeks I had about eighteen kilos in my rucksack. This included a tent flysheet that I had cut up and remade into a three sided tent that weighed only a kilo. For weeks I’d worked to refine a walking staff out of aluminium tubing that doubled as a camera stand and held inside it
two tent poles, these doubled again as a fishing rod. The handle where you held it, was carefully covered in cork so as not to slip in a sweaty hand. The top twelve centimetres was a fishing reel holder. This had twelve aluminium tent pegs fixed around it, and these in turn were covered with a leather sleeve. From a small piece of wood I carved a wooden shell (The conch is the symbol of the Camino) with a Templar’s cross painted red in the centre of it. On top of the shell a brass fitting with a crystal marble to represent the Camino magic. This all fitted on the top of the staff. By unscrewing the brass fitting and crystal you could fit the camera on. An old film cassette pot with fishing float, hooks, weights and a spinner was put in the pocket of the rucksack with a small home-made aluminium fishing reel.
I walk with two staffs normally, one long in the right hand, and one shorter in the left and decided to take my old Australian grass tree staff as the smallest one. This had the same wooden shell top and was fitted with a medallion that my daughter had given me with ‘I love you dad’ on it. This staff was an old friend and had done all the Vía del Plata last year.
Determined to camp to save every cent to be able to reach my goal, I was ready to go. Then a peregrino friend from my first walk sent me a donation to cover a few nights in hostels, shortly after another good friend did the same. Lady Luck had been good to me again, all they asked was I light a candle for them and their friends and family on the way. This I would do willingly and with a lot of love. So with the five-leaf clover that I found last year safely in my wallet, I winged to Paris with so many family and friends wishing me success and best of luck on my quest.

2nd of May 2005 Paris

I arrived in Paris on time but the airline had lost both my staffs. Hardly able to restrain my frustration I filled in the forms and answered questions like
“If we find them where can we send them?”
“I will be walking a thousand kilometres and stopping in different places each day” I explained. “You will have to send them back to Perth Australia, I have an address for tonight only.”
“Ok give me that” she said “so I can phone you!”
I was wasting my time of course the staffs had and have vanished forever.
I hate large impersonal cities and they don’t come much bigger than Paris. I speak no French but I managed to take the bus to the train station Gare du Nord and from there a train to Saint Lazare and another to Bois Colombes. From here I first walked hoping to find the right road and then the house. It went well, Carol greeted me warmly and showed me to my room but apologised, as she had to leave, leaving me in the capable hands of their youngest daughter who fed me after I had had a shower. A little while later a very pretty elder daughter arrived and we sat in the shade by the house and chatted. I then had a rest to get over my jet lag. Later on I went for a walk for a coffee and to take a quick look round the town. Carol came home first and took me in the car and showed me her new art studio, which she had been preparing to open soon hopefully. Then Philippe arrived but the family all had to go out again as it was the oldest daughter’s twenty-first birthday! I couldn’t have arrived on a more awkward day for Carol and Philippe.
They left me plenty of food to eat and I arranged to leave in the morning. I text Maisie to say all was well and I’d decided I would leave pretty early in the morning.


3rd of May
Paris to Irun then up a mountain just past
El Santuario de Nuestra Sra.

Didn’t have time to ring my sister-in-law as I’d planned as I hurriedly said goodbye to Philippe and he kindly gave me Carol’s staff to replace one of the two lost! Carol then drove me through the heavy traffic to the train station to catch the TVE. I hadn’t realised she would take me there, it was very kind seeing it was rush hour too. I took some photos as we drove past some of the famous landmarks of Paris. Carol told me she would show me Paris one day if I returned with enough time. I thanked her and said goodbye and bought my ticket and boarded the train for Irun at 10.10 a.m.
I needed food and metholated spirit or alcohol for the stove and tent poles, so I thought I would stay in a hostel when I arrived at 3.45 p.m. On the train I had more bad luck and lost my pen and broke the pedometer when it hooked onto a seat as I came down the aisle.
On arrival I bought the fuel I needed in a chemist and found the hostel but it was closed till seven p.m. I decided to walk and try to find where the Camino started, to kill time. After wandering about town I found myself almost back in Hendaye. Here I found the correct yellow arrows and hoping for the best made up my mind not to stop in the hostel, but to set off now on my Camino.
I came out of the town and crossed a marshy area where I found my first four-leaf clover. I had had little to eat and finding a Casa Rural asked the two ladies sitting outside for a beer and a sandwich if that was possible. One kindly got up and made me a cheese sandwich and gave me a beer and we chatted and I told them my plans and afterwards she would take nothing for the food! I thanked them and paid for the beer and set off. I found a branch
for a temporary staff and another for a tent pole and climbed to the little church Ermita de Nuestra Señora.
Here I lit my first candles for my friends and helpers, including the lady that gave me the cheese sandwich! Deciding I could camp on the mountain I looked for another suitable pole as I wound my way up and across the big mountain in front of me, passing wild ponies and a few walkers coming down. The view was lovely looking back to Irun. As the day wore on I looked for a place to camp and because of the slope decided it would have to be on the side of the track. Thinking I had better get set up before dark I stopped about eight o’clock and cut the pole I carried to length, and another to hold the tent up. I cooked some pasta and soup all together on my stove and sat and ate it looking out across the lovely valley. I found another dry branch that someone else had cut, this I shortened and trimmed taking off the bark, while I sat looking at the last rays of sunlight in the valley, and this became my long staff. A few people passed but they seemed rather shy of talking to a lone camper and I felt I must be doing something unusual by camping like this but went to bed happy enough. The ponies galloped by in the night but other than that and the fact I was too excited to sleep, the night slipped by rather coldly, with an odd shower or two

4th of May
Mountain to San Sebastián

I was up at 8.30 and on my way. There was misty rain on and off all day with some heavy showers but my luck held as I was in a bar at the time of the worst rain. It was a hard walk going up and down until at last I came down and along the seafront in San Sebastián at quarter to seven. In a bar I got directions to the Youth Hostel. I found this at the far end of town and a few streets back from the seafront and built against the steep hill. There seemed no one about until I walked around the outside of the building and up a road that met the building again a couple of floors higher up at the back and here I found the proper entrance. I booked in and was able to wash and dry everything including the tent. I found the kitchen and cooked some pasta, runner beans, and chorizo for dinner and finished with a banana for desert. There was a nice crowd of youngsters and they gave me wine to go with my meal. One especially nice girl from the United States chatted with me for a long while. She was very interested in the Camino and what routes I had walked. I gave her a four-leaf clover and she was very excited and everyone had to see it. I said goodnight and was in bed by nine p.m.

5th of May
San Sebastián to Azkizu

All day I seemed to be going up and down very steep tracks, many being very old, probably Roman, and made of rough stones. I asked in Orio for lodgings but at thirty Euro a night I kept going and asking in the next town for an albergue, each time being sent on to the next village. When I eventually found the albergue in Azkizu, you have to phone, but I couldn’t find a number anywhere! So I took a hostel for the night at twenty Euro with no food or coffee.
I met three other Peregrinos after a stroll and we went to a restaurant and had a good meal of an ensalada mixta, fish soup and a fillet of veal.

6th of May
Azkizu to 500 m Atop mountain, Olatzarno Aroate

I left the albergue first and as I came to the other side of a town, I stopped and had a coffee and I got my flask filled with hot water so I could make coffee later. I then found a butcher’s shop and bought a fillet of veal and was given a complete chorizo (red sausage) free! From there I passed a street market and a lady gave me a potato and an onion, also free! Later in the day I found a chap in a bar had paid for my beer as he left! It can only happen in Spain!
I met up again with two of the peregrinos, Miguel and Paco, but I left them to take a hostel in Deba while I carried on mile after bloody mile to the beautiful valley of Oiatz. (My maps were wrong by about ten kilometres.) Passing this pretty hamlet and having climbed a very steep mountain to the top, I was exhausted. I passed the boundary of Guipúzcoa and Vizcaya and I was so very tired as I started across the top hoping for a flat spot to camp. At last the track was wide enough to pitch the tent on a soggy bit of ground by a gate. This was my only choice, and I struggled to put it up. It was cold and very damp and drizzly and the clouds came down and filled the tent during the night so I was as wet as if I had slept outside by the morning. The thermal blanket that I put over in the night was wetter underneath than on top too, because my ground sheet is not even waterproof either.

Sat 7th of May
Atop a mountain – Bollbar Monastery of Cenarruza

Having packed my tent home atop the mountain by nine a।m।, I left but I soon came across another camper, a Frenchman with a large dog that had desires to eat me। At least his dog would have helped keep him warm I thought as we chatted in broken Spanish. The rain stopped for a moment and a cold wintry sun tried to come out and shine a few rays down onto the thick cloud that was settled in the valley below us. I waved goodbye and wished them luck and went on my way, I was to meet the pair once again as I had dinner in the monastery later. But now I walked a lot of bewildering forest tracks and came down off the mountain into Markina-xemein. Here after drying the tent on a park bench and buying some bread and veggies I met Miguel and Paco again and I now walked with them to the monastery of Cisterciense Zenarruza some way out of town. I had followed the arrows instead of using my maps today to reach the monastery. I think I may have walked quite a different way and further than the directions I had translated from Spanish and printed in my little book!



Arriving at the monastery we were all invited to listen to a choir singing in the beautiful monastery hall. It was lovely but as we didn’t find any chairs vacant, we had to sit on the cold stone stairs and they froze the bum! Because of this Paco and I left early and bought a bottle of red from the monastery shop. We were able to drink it with the rest of the peregrinos at dinnertime. Round the table there were Paco and Miguel, a Dutch couple whose names I was never able to learn but they were a couple I would see so many times, including at the very end in Santiago. They told me there that they were going on to Portugal to walk the Portuguese route. Next to them were
two Spanish ladies, and the Frenchman who slept out in his tent with the dog, much to the amusement of the others. After a good meal of stew I watched the sunset from the terrace, the clouds and rainy weather could be seen coming in off the sea and covering the mountain I had slept on last night. I was glad we had the Monks shelter for tonight. I had found a four leaf clover today and had given it to Paco and felt that I was now in the right place at the right time, what with the choir and all. It normally cost some twenty Euro to hear them, we had got in free. I’d also had a free lunch and bed, so I donated three Euro to the tin. Unfortunately Paco told me later he had lost that first clover.

Sunday 8th of May
Bollbar Monastery to Gernika

Paco, Miguel and I left together. We had a hard walk up and down with lots of mud and we arrived in a village just before Gernika that was on fiesta. Here we were invited to join in the fun and buy a glass for a Euro, and try the new wines and eat bread and cheese or tortilla.










Several glasses of wine later we said goodbye to our new friends and continued to Gernica where we booked into the albergue with almost the same crowd of Peregrinos as the night before. Miguel treated Paco and me to a great meal of chaparrones (squid cooked in their own ink). We went on a tour of the town and met the two Spanish ladies again outside the cathedral. On the way back I was talking to Paco and missed my step as we went to cross the road. I fell flat on my face in the road. I swear I wasn’t drunk!
Back at the albergue I did my washing and slept off the effects of the alcohol!

9th of May
Gernika to Bilbao

I left Gernika at 7 am. It turned out to be one of the hardest days so far, climbing up to the top of steep hills then down again much of it over mountain dirt tracks. Coming out onto the road I met Paco and Miguel and we stopped for a drink and a short rest on the verge and the Dutch couple went by. I couldn’t believe that after all my practice my feet were beginning to hurt badly with blisters on the ball and heal of both feet.
In the next village I stopped and let the others go on while I rested my feet, which by then were giving me hell, oh they were so painful. I sat there and greased and massaged them while sitting at a picnic table. There had seemed to be no bar around but as I looked back down a side street I saw one and my luck was in, it was open! I dumped two plastic water containers I hadn’t used and the glass from the fiesta and some other bits to lighten my load. Then had a nice coffee and chatted to the bar lady and a young man who spoke some English. They both told me there was an albergue some kilometres on in the next town.
My feet were still hurting badly as I arrived only to find it closed. A man outside a busy bar told me that some peregrinos were in the restaurant and I went in to find Miguel and Paco. I sat down at their table and joined them in a great menu of the day. Feeling better we decided that the only thing to do was to walk to the Bilbao albergue, some fifteen kilometres more according to the maps. People in the bar said that it was fairly flat all the way to Bilbao so we thought it wouldn’t be too hard. What we never knew was that the camino went over the top of the mountain not around it like the road did. Miguel and Paco began to pull ahead of me and Miguel disappeared, while Paco stopped and waited for me but I could see he wanted to go on and catch up with Miguel, so I told him to leave me.
“I will be late but I’ll get there.” I said determined to not let my feet get the better of me.
We had reached the top together and were going down towards the city when Paco went on ahead. I slowed and stopped and massaged my poor feet, then tried again. It was so painful, then the rain started just as I came into town! The arrows disappeared as usual in a big town. For the first time ever someone refused to help me when I asked the way. That cheered me up as you can guess. But soon I found others willing to help and somehow I walked the four kilometres across the city to the albergue that is situated half way up the hill on the far side. Finding the counter I was surprised to see Miguel and Paco booking in. We shared a dormitory with two others, it had a magnificent view across the city. Later Paco found the laundry room with washing machines and dryers and we started our washing off. We left it washing and put a Euro by the coin slot for the dryer while we walked out and up the hill to get a sandwich and a beer. The walk up and back in pouring rain was very hard on my feet then to find the Dutch couple had removed our clean washing, done their own and ignored the money in front of the dryer and dried their own before ours, did not help my mood. Our washing was still soaking wet! We put it down to strange Dutch customs, put in the money and clothes, and waited for them to dry but it made us quite late to bed that night.

10th of May
Bilbao to Portugalete

Sadly Miguel had to leave us, he had to go home as his brother had died in South America while on holiday there. Paco and I now left the albergue and climbed the mountain and on through some lovely country and eventually through the suburbs of Portugalete arriving about seven thirty that evening, a fairly hard day and at least five kilometres further than my map book had said it was. We found a hostel and shared a room.

11th of May
Portugalete to Castro Urdailes

Another hard but nice walk by the coast and we did well and covered about twenty-seven kilometres and found peregrino accommodation was in the sports building by going to the police station। We were to sleep on mattresses on the floor in the shower room but couldn’t settle in till after a basket ball game. We left our rucksacks in a locked room and went into town and along the seafront and round the harbour. We took a number of photos. We found a cheap place to eat near the sports building before setting up camp for the night and it was a good meal!

12th of May
Castro Urdailes to Laredo

I had a bad night and had to rush to the toilet twice and then again after getting up at five thirty। Hoping for the best I took a pill and ate a banana and we left at six thirty. We arrived at a tiny albergue at ten and I ate a little bread and drank two cups of tea at the bar. I felt much better but felt very tired and Paco’s constant Spanish had to be translated and I was tired and I needed to be alone. I told Paco to go on.


“I will be ok I’ll stay here for two hours, and stop the night here too if I don’t feel any better,” I said.
I rested at the café till eleven then as I felt much better I decided to travel on। It was all main road still, although I probably missed the track somewhere on the way to Laredo. Outside Laredo I found the arrows again and they took me up to a large tower with a restaurant in it. Alongside it steps went down the mountain into town. As far as I knew there was no albergue here in this seaside town, although there were plenty of big hotels I could see. Arriving at the foot of the long staircase I asked a kind lady if she knew of a cheap albergue or Fonda. The young lady was so kind and helpful. She came with me to a house in a nearby street and pushed buttons and spoke to the proprietor and eventually we were let in. They were friends it seemed and it was a monk’s refuge and was very comfortable. I had arrived about three thirty p.m. The Dutch couple were also here, she said. This pair always seemed to have much better information than the rest of us although they could not speak any Spanish at all.


I was told where to eat cheaply and well in the next street for nine Euro. A good fish soup, meatballs, (albóndigas) and a custard for sweet and wine of course and here I saw the TV weather forecast that said cool and wet for tomorrow. Amazingly I think I had walked about thirty-nine kilometres that day.

13th of May
Laredo to Cruce de Güemes

I left Laredo at six thirty having forgotten to get a stamp on my credential. I was having trouble finding my way and I had heard from Paco that there was a ferry across the estuary, but I didn’t know where to catch it. So I set out on the long way round, following the arrows to Colindres and then on to Güemes all on asphalt according to my map and it was. The distances seemed way out and were much further than I expected. Then the albergue was miles out of town again, some six kilometres or more with an unnecessary sight seeing loop then up a big hill at the end। I had very big blisters on my feet by this time and had to burst them on the way. I crawled up that hill arriving at about six p.m. The albergue was run by some Chileans I believe, the place was full of noisy Spanish youngsters on a walking holiday. It was bedlam. After a short rest as best I could, I did my washing, then went round to the lounge dining room where a fire burned in the hearth. The Dutch couple were here and a tall young Frenchman, Pascual. A small kitchen was in a recess and food supplied for us to cook was already unthawing on the draining board, shellfish, prawns and crabs sticks. There was rice to eat with it but the Dutch lady was not too keen to cook a Dutch meal so I pushed in and finding some yellow saffron powder cooked a make shift ‘paella’ that turned out well considering. I chatted with Pascual and the Dutch couple and found them very pleasant. They had walked many Camino tracks through Europe before doing this one. We all went to our beds at about ten thirty.

14th of May
Cruce de Güemes to Boo de Piélagos

I was up late and ambled with the young and handsome Frenchman Pascual till we found the wide sandy beach, here Pascual wanted time alone to reflect and write and we said we would probably meet in the Santander albergue.
(I was not to know I was to miss meeting him and a day or so later was just in time to see him catch a bus to finish his holiday on the ‘French Camino’ where he hoped to meet more people, or should that be ladies.)
I carried on along the beach till I saw that it turned and went out in a long spit into the bay and I asked a young lady if I should cross the base of the spit.
“Yes, there on the other side is Somo, there you should catch the ferry over to Santander.”
I took her advice and crossed the loose sand and found a path that went round some houses and I came to the river entrance and a stone jetty. There were no notices anywhere about ferries so I went into a bar that overlooked the harbour and ordered a tinto de verano. Here I got chatting to the girl behind the bar who spoke good English and was teaching her pretty little daughter the language. Weakened, I gave the child a koala and her mother told me the ferry left at ten past the hour. Anyway a small boat chugged up to the jetty and I jumped aboard and paid the small fee. The view was fantastic as we chugged across the glittering water, first calling on the far side of the river to drop some passengers, then it headed across the estuary to Santander. The little boat chugged up to the jetty right in the middle of town.
I jumped off and soon found the cathedral and having looked round it set off following the arrows. Feeling refreshed from the rest and the boat trip I decided to miss the albergue and started to walk out of town. As I left town I asked an elderly man if he could recommend a restaurant. I stopped at the one he’d recommended at the crossroads and had a very good meal for seven Euro before continuing on my way. I had trouble getting out of town but got on the right road, then track and later country road.
Boo is a small village with a motorway being constructed around it and building work everywhere. My instructions were useless. I found the place where there should have been an albergue but there wasn’t one. I even asked at the vicarage and was told there never had been as yet, but they were thinking about it. Asking about accommodation I was given directions to go out of town in the opposite direction that I wanted to travel and after two or three kilometres I found a hostel by a main road. Here I had to take a room for twenty-seven Euro. They took my passport too but I later got it back when I paid the bill. As I had eaten earlier I skipped tea and only had a beer to save money. I did my washing then laid it on the towel, rolled it up and wrung it out and pinned it on the curtains to dry, an old peregrino trick.

15th of May
Boo to Barreda

I left at six thirty, locked the door and put the key back under it as instructed. Back in the village I missed the rail bridge that I should have crossed over and took the long way round to cross the river by the old roman bridge. On the way I hunted out some canes for tent poles and made them join in the middle. After some ten kilometres’ I arrived two hundred yards from my starting point! Only now I was on the far side of river and the other side of the railway bridge! As it was Sunday it had been hard to find a bar open for coffee. I did find one near here though and the lady, as she had no bread to make a sandwich, sold me some cheese to put in my own stale crust from yesterday. I climbed the hill to a little church and ate it and filled my water bottles from the fountain.
It had been asphalt roads almost all the way, that’s three days now and looks likely to continue I noted. I also saw snow for the first time on the distant mountains, but here walking through the rolling arable country the sun was out and it was nice. I had an amusing moment when I asked if I could take some photos in a small chapel building attached to a farmhouse. The old lady took me over to look, it was full of farm machinery and open at the end but she would not let me photograph anything.
“Look see how the stone has flaked away over there like a Camino footprint! Can’t let people see that everyone will want to come and take photos” she said very seriously.
A smaller flake underneath looked to me very much like the ‘concha’ shell symbol of the Camino, I agreed but said nothing about the ‘conch’, and smiling to myself I thanked her and went on my way, just another piece of Camino magic.
I wanted to camp but three men talking by the side of the road said the guardia would move me on and fine me if I did. Afterwards I thought they might have been related to the dueña of the albergue that was just down the road called ‘Arco Iris,’ the rainbow in Spanish! I arrived there and a Spaniard, José Luis and an Italian lad, Piero, and the dueña (landlady) invited me to eat oranges and sardines while I waited to go in! The showers were mixed with no doors only curtains even on the toilets they explained! The Dutch couple and another couple were already washing. It was very basic but at eighteen Euro including a meal it wasn’t too bad. The meal cooked by the man of the house, was good, and was set out very nicely on the plates. Everything was ‘de la casa,’ eggs, veggies, sausages, cheese and the fruit I was assured by the pleasant dueña.

16th of May
Barreda ‘Arco de Iris’ to Santillana del Mar.

The Dutch couple and their friends and I left late after breakfast. We were entertained all the way to the next village by one of the Spanish ladies we had met in the albergue over dinner. They had brought eggs for the dueña and had joined us in a glass of wine. I felt that she now walked all the way just to keep us company. I enjoyed translating all she said for the others and the time flew. The next village was very beautiful and old. I stopped and took photos and had a coffee with the four Dutch people. Leaving them still in the bar I set off and later met José Luis and Piero। The weather changed and somewhere we lost Piero, and I walked with José Luis the rest of the way in the rain. I was very tired as we crossed a wonderful old bridge into Santillana del Mar and climbed up to the church at the top of the town। We arrived soaked. Fortunately José had rung ahead so we could stop in the parish church albergue. We found it alongside the church and we were shown into a tiny room with a bunk bed and a tiny shower and toilet room off it. Piero arrived latter, having called earlier and been turned away because it was booked in the name of José Luis. I said as they had really booked it for the two of them, I would sleep on the floor. To my surprise the shower worked. José Luis and Piero ate in the town while I rustled up a stew on my stove and tried to dry my things.

17th of May
Santillana del Mar to Llanes

All main roads again, this is very hard on the feet but you do a lot of mileage. I was walking mainly on my own but occasionally with Piero and José Luis. By late afternoon after walking along on my own for some way I again bumped into José Luis in a restaurant. I was asking the cost of rooms and if they had seen the other two when he called to me from the restaurant. We ate a massive menu del día at eight Euro and here we met Arturo, a Spanish peregrino who joined us at our table. He was considerably older than myself by about ten years. Arturo had a room here while José Luis wanted to go on, I decided to go with him, as it was a bit expensive.
"It’s just another twelve kilometres," he said.
So saying goodbye to Arturo we set off down the road.
It nearly killed me, I was exhausted when we arrived at Llanes.


Here we called in the police station to ask about finding cheap rooms! I meantime upset the police system when I asked for drinking water and a loo as I was nearly passing out with fatigue. It would mean the lady policeman would have to leave the desk unmanned and follow me into the toilets! Unthinkable but with the help of a cleaning lady the problem was solved. We got the credential stamp and directions to a boarding house nearby and as we came out the door incredibly we met Piero again. We had to phone a number rang and had to wait to be let in. The street door looked like something out of Count Dracula and so did the wooden staircase but once we were upstairs the rooms were good and clean and we were happy to pay our ten Euro each.

18th of May
Llanes to Ribadesella

Overnight I decided I must do something about the weight I was carrying so next morning I let the others go while I waited until eight thirty for the post office to open. I posted on the tent and some other bits, about two kilo, to Santiago but I couldn’t win, the sun came out immediately. The weather became ideal for camping! Oh well that’s the way it goes. I changed some money, had chocolate and churros in a café opposite the bank and set off after the others at nine thirty. When I eventually arrived in Ribadesella I was told to cross the old bridge across the harbour and I found the youth hostel and in here I met Paco again, he was now with a new French friend and they told me a good place to eat.

19th of May
Ribadesella to Colunga

I slept well although some salmon I had eaten last night had repeated a little on me. I was last to leave, because I needed to get my photos copied to a disc.
I walked back across the bridge into town and found the shop didn’t open till ten o’clock, so I left and followed the seafront and took a road up the mountain, thinking I am on the correct path! The road took me right up to the lighthouse at the top of a mountain that suddenly dropped straight down to the sea below. Here I could find no arrows or signs whatsoever! To find my way I got to thinking ‘keep the sea on my right and head west and the tiny country road will surely meet up with the Camino at some point". I set off. I wandered many kilometres with multiple choices of tiny roads and no signs. I found a man hoeing his cabbages and he pointed out the village in the distance that I was supposed to find. With his directions in my head I set off again into the valley where the road narrowed and then turned into a path. This winding path went down some very steep steps and paths. Lower down, I found another man and was given directions again this time taking a minor country road and arrived at San Pedro. Here I started again and with the help of some arrows joined a more main road.

I must have travelled miles out of my way but happy now and with the sun shining, I set off up the hill.
Later I came to a bus shelter and rested and here brewed a coffee and cooked a potato and cabbage stew. Feeling rejuvenated I did a fast fifteen kilometres into Colunga. Here I decided to phone Paco. He said Miguel was going to start the Camino again from here, Paco and his French friend had found two rooms and I could share with Miguel if I wanted. It would cost us twelve Euro each.
I met them in the main street and we booked in and took a shower. I then found a photo shop to copy my films and managed to post a disc to Maisie. Everything clicked into place and I felt sure it was because I had found more four-leaf clovers that day. We all went out and I was treated to a meal and cider in a cider house. It was the first time I had seen a waiter pour cider as they do here in this part of Spain. Poured from a height into a glass held low down it looked a good way to spoil a carpet!

20th of May
Colunga to Vaga de Sariego

Somehow I got lost, I first lost the others and then completely missed the Monastery and the albergue.
I eventually saw them way below me at the bottom of the valley and I even saw Paco and Miguel walking up to it, like flies on a map. But equally strange I was also on a correct road towards Oviedo. So I kept going now and walked over the mountain and down the other side into Vaga de Sariego. Back on track again I found a small but good albergue in the little village. Getting the key from the bar I settled in and shared the room with a quiet man, who I was to get to know well. He was another Paco only this time from Valencia he said. There was another Spaniard in another room, this chap I came to know as Roberto. I cooked up a meal on my stove while they ate in the village, then joined them for a beer later, and we shared a bottle of cider back at the albergue too.

I’d walked on quite a lot of asphalt roads again today, I thought as I massaged my poor feet before getting into bed that night!

21st of May
Vaga de Sariego to Oviedo

The mountains were stunning but getting smaller now and I decided to stop in the city of Oviedo for a day if I could find a cheap hostel. I had found Miguel and Paco and was walking with them again. Oviedo has a large industrial suburb. Here I found another five leaf clover on the verge and gave it to Paco, he promised not to loose it this time and put it in a book. Amazingly I had found one or two every day so far.
Then I remembered something, Vigi lives in Oviedo! She is a peregrina friend from last year’s Fisterra walk! I rang her. It would be great to see this petite young señorita who just loved to sing. Somehow my poor Spanish got poor Vigi all mixed up about our meeting, I thought I had said I was walking in and had seven kilometres to do and would ring her again on arrival. She meanwhile thought
would be there for dinner!
I stopped for a meal with Miguel and Paco and took a very long time over it. For some silly reason the albergue in Oviedo only opens at eight o clock in the evening and is therefore useless to walkers who have to get their washing done and dry.
We arrived in town late afternoon and found a hostel and booked in and I did my washing. I phoned Vigi again now and arranged to meet her in front of the cathedral. She looked as charming as ever and insisted I stop at her place and we went back to the hostel to get my bag and we met the others coming out. I took the key from them and collected my rucksack. I then left money with Miguel to pay for my half of the room. I said goodbye to Miguel and Paco and the Frenchman hoping to meet them again sometime.
Vigi lives quite near to the albergue. Opposite is a lovely old stone church and there was a wedding on. Right place right time again I said to Vigi as I went to look. They were playing traditional pipe music and dancing the jota in traditional dress in front of the bride and groom, it made another magic moment for me and I said to Vigi
“Correcto sitio, correcto tiempo, buena compañía, es el mágico del Camino!








We put my bag in my room and Vigi made a meal and I now discovered she had cooked a special dinner for me earlier! I tried to apologise in my poor Spanish
“Forget it, it was nothing” she insisted.

We went round the town looking at the cathedral where there had been another wedding, here we managed to get ourselves locked in and had to get a chap to undo the huge iron gate with a massive key!
“It’s not every day you get locked in for the night in a magnificent cathedral with a pretty señorita” I joked as the man unlocked the giant gate.
Vigi then took me round town to show me everything, the cafes filled with happy chatting folk drinking coffee and beer in the beautiful shaded courtyards. Most of the centre of town is traffic free and all flagstone streets between the ancient old sandstone buildings. Brightly coloured shop widows, colourful street markets, a huge fish, meat and vegetable market held in a fine Victorian glass building. I said we deserved a glass of wine and we went into a wine bar and sat on the tall bar stools surrounded by noisy young Spanish people enjoying fine wines. Vigi now said
“We must hurry, we have to meet someone.”
A new surprise, I’m taken to a restaurant now to meet two of her friends, a young man and a attractive young woman.
“Only drink cider and don’t mix it” Vigi duly warns me.
A bottle of cider was bought to the table. The waiter takes it and holds it above his head, as high as he can hold the bottle and pours. It spills down into a glass that he holds in his other hand as low as he can and he doesn’t look! No wonder they have sawdust on the floors. The idea is to froth the new cider to lift the taste I am told,
and I tried the difference and it does taste much better. They only put about three finger widths in the glass and you have to drink it fairly fast while the fizz is still in it. You take it in turn to drink the stuff and chat between glasses its great fun. I think we ate a three-course meal as well! Well the one red wine in the first bar and a glass of brandy afterwards did the unforgivable. It is also time to say that in the typical Spanish tradition I was never allowed to buy a drink all weekend or pay for a meal!

22nd May
Oviedo

I spent next day in bed till twelve thirty with a terrible migraine! Vigi was very patient and only said a couple of times
“I said don’t mix it” and gave me an aspirin and waited for me to surface.
She later gave me another trip round town to see the many statues in the many squares, trust me to forget my camera again. There’s the small but life sized Woody Allen one, a beautiful woman in traditional dress in front of the cathedral, The Fat lady, The Lovers, and The Bum, among others. These last ones I have translated from Vigi’s description.
“That’s not of course their real names” said Vigi laughing.
I had to admit it’s a job to tell what is humour and what is art! Vigi now used her car to drive us up the mountain to see two little Romanesque churches. From here we could see the valley and the city below, it was fantastic. I had a laugh here because Vigi told me to turn my back as she went into the bushes to pee. A moment later there was a squealing of tires and a young fool of a driver nearly wiped me and the car off the face of the planet. Vigi came hurrying up the bank still tucking in her dress.
“What the hell was that!” she cried.
“Just some young fools trying to peep” I chuckled.
We now returned to the city and out again to a small village some distance away and here I was to meet Conchita and see her lovely cottage. Conchita and her kind and friendly husband and her lovely old mother, a lady who was delicately embroidering a pretty cloth, met us. I was hugged and kissed like a long lost friend.
Conchita and her hubby then put on a grand barbecue of sausages, meat, fish and salad and wine. The weather was bright and sunny while we were eating but then it changed and turned cold and later rained hard. We went indoors and they chatted all afternoon and I tried to keep up with the conversation but my hangover was not helping. Conchita suggested we go for a walk to blow the cobwebs away as it had now stopped raining, and we did a tour of the charming old village. Saying goodbye we returned to the flat and Vigi cooked an omelette with potato and onion. So simple, so quick and boy, so good. Vigi had to go to work in the morning and I sadly said I should move on tomorrow too, so we said goodnight and I retired to my room and got my bag ready to leave next morning.

23 rd May
Oviedo to San Juan de Villapañada

Next morning Vigi gave me breakfast and packed me a lunch, which weighed about two and a half kilo saying I must eat if I was to walk today. She then ordered a taxi for herself, as she was late for work and we went down to wait for it and said a sad farewell and wished each other a wonderful journey on life’s Camino and promised to meet again someday.
We had walked for three days together last year and had become such incredible good friends. I turned and crossed the road and waved as the taxi arrived and whisked her away, and I now set off through the town in the direction she had shown me on our travels the day before. I found my way and was soon on a nice camino up and down hills. Near Grado I walked some time with a Spanish guy who walked fifty kilometres a day on average he said, and I believed him as we simply flew along. We passed two women, one had lost her wallet she said but they were continuing on very slowly. We left them but I had to let the chap go in the end, he was carrying a very light pack and he was far too fast for me.












Then it became all dangerous main road again, especially the last bit up a very steep mountain with no footpath. I asked a van driver and he sent me up a small deviation that at the top brought me to a small albergue. Here I found the Italian Piero. He was on his own José Luis having gone on when Piero, like me, had stopped a day. We showered and did our washing and got a beer from across the road from the chap who stamped our credentials and ran the albergue. There was no food or restaurant so sharing our larder we cooked a meal. There was a number of French now and Arturo the old man we had met a long way back. The heel on my right foot was blistered at this time and had been very painful. I phoned Vigi to thank her and tried Maisie but to no avail. I was only able to text her. I couldn’t find a number that worked on my b….. mobile.










24th May
San Juan de Villapañada to Tineo

Piero and I were last to leave. We couldn’t find an arrow or find anything in our books about which way to start as we left the albergue. We did about a kilometre round the tiny village and in the end came across the main road and decided to take that as we knew it was at least in the right direction. This road was busy and had no pavement or shoulder to walk on. We stayed on this road till we reached a small town, probably Salas, it must have been about eight to ten kilometres from this morning’s albergue. Here we had coffee and bought a loaf of bread. We now found arrows to follow and these took us up a steep gully to the top of the mountain. We stopped about half way, we thought. We could see for miles back the way we had come, with beautiful wild flowers growing all around us. The sun made us look for some soft shade and we sat down and ate lunch at this beautiful spot. Paco from Valencia came by as we ate but wouldn’t stop, saying his feet were bad and he must reach the top. We finished our bocadillos then continued to climb on and up for ages before coming out onto a country road. Here high up on the mesa we walked across rolling hills towards Tineo. On the way we stopped to drink and eat a banana in a dilapidated bus shelter miles from anywhere. I spoke to a passing farmer and wished him a good day. He realised we must be pilgrims on the way of St James and came across to speak. The conversation soon took a religious turn as the man, holding a large hand scythe like old father time, gave us a powerful lesson on the bible. It was wonderful to hear this man speak with such conviction. His faith was so strong, he quoted many of the miracles that had reputedly happened in Spain and especially of course the story of the apparition of St James appearing and slaughtering over two hundred Moors and driving them from Galicia. We almost received a blow for blow account. My Spanish comprehension seemed to increase immensely and I understood his every word. Piero, a catholic, can speak Spanish much better than I and joined in and helped fuel the debate. He left us at last and we managed to continue. We found a village Fonda and bar and had a coffee and chatted to a charming young lady and her son. Paco had not stopped it seemed and so now we went on too. A beautiful walk but we were tired now and glad when three girls directed us to the Tineo albergue and I showered, did my washing and cooked dinner on my little stove. Paco was here and another man came in but he was no peregrino and I got the feeling the donation tin might go missing in the morning, (he was the last to leave next day but who knows.)























25th May
Tineo to Peñasieta

I took the wrong way and went through the narrow streets of the village and found a café for breakfast and then managed to find my way back up to the track and arrows. What a wonderful part of the camino the first part was. The track wandered high up and along the side of a valley. The views were fantastic, looking like a Japanese painting in the morning light. Range upon range of misty mountains could be seen, each a slightly different shade of blue-grey to its predecessor. I found eight four-leaf clovers and one five-leaf by the end of the day!
I then walked deep into a forest and discovered a monastery and took photos, I then had to backtrack a kilometre and met Valencia’s Paco again at the junction. He decided to come with me and miss the monastery and we came out of the forest into a small farm hamlet. I asked for water at a house and then we sat and shared our lunch in the shade of oak trees at the picnic tables in this beautiful spot and hunted for four leaf clovers, but Paco could never find one. Later on in another village we bought some supplies. Here I managed to get rubbers for the end of my sticks and was given a sample bottle of shampoo free of charge by the pleasant shopkeeper. You can’t buy small lightweight bottles anywhere. Paco went on but I stayed to have another coffee with Piero who had arrived as we were about to leave. I then walked with him from then on up over the top of a couple mountains. As we crossed the second pass we had the eggs saga.

We found a tiny rustic bar on the top of this last mountain pass, and were gasping for a drink after the climb. Having downed a couple of beers. Piero said, on seeing three trays of eggs on the side near the door, that he would love a real eggs and bacon breakfast.
“They are probably for sale” I said and asked the barman for four eggs.
Having removed them from the protection of the paper-mashie egg tray, the barman gave them to me loose in my hands. Hmmm! Well I asked him for a newspaper and I wrapped them separately and placed them in a plastic bag. I then put my rucksack over some boxes and undid the zip and placed the eggs in a container that I used as a washing up bowl. This was then placed back into the centre my rucksack.
“Should be alright if I don’t fall over” I joked to Piero.

Just two hundred metres down the other side of the mountain was the familiar painted yellow arrow and we turned left between some old farm cottages and now saw a steep concrete slope set at about 45 degrees. Dry powdered cow dung and fine gravel covered the surface. I held my two staffs in front of me in fear of pitching forward on my face.
I carry the heaviest of rucksacks and I always fear falling headfirst and having that heavy weight grind my face into the ground. I must have been thinking on these lines and over reacted because my feet suddenly grew roller skates and shot out in front of me, between the poles. I was deposited with a resounding thump onto my bum and the rucksack. Crash! I lay there winded but laughing. Piero spun round and seeing I was still laughing and unhurt said grinning.
“Maybe we have ‘tortilla’ instead for breakfast!”
Well I wasn’t going to look now, if they were broken so be it, I just hoped the sticky mess never ran into my clothes. We went down the side of the mountain and I pulled ahead as I use two poles, and on the dirt track this was faster. I stopped two thirds of the way down and chatted to two ladies in a bus stop where the track crossed the road. They were jolly souls and I told them about my finding all the four leaf clovers. I gave them one each as they left and I looked up the track to see if Piero was in sight. He wasn’t but as I looked back round I saw a set of door keys on the seat in the shelter. I shouted after the women and they stopped and came back and of course they were their front door keys.
“There I told you four leaf clovers are lucky, if you had not received one you would have gone all the way home without those keys” I joked.
They went off up the road laughing to each other. Piero arrived then and we crossed the road and continued descending.
“Not far to the albergue, about two kilometres” the ladies had promised me. We got to the bottom and on to the town and nearly through it. Tired we stopped for a coffee in the last cafe.
“Just two kilometres up the valley promised the barman.”
We had already done two since the bus stop!
On we went up the mountain road then following the arrows we turned off onto a tiny mud track towards the river that tumbled down the valley. Then parallel with it for two kilometres climbing all the time. Half the time the track was more like a stream as water tried to get to the river. After going for about an hour the track forked. Our arrow, painted on a stone pointed at the track that went steeply up the side of the valley.
As a man came along on a little tractor and trailer at that moment we waited for him to pass, but he took the other track calling out when questioned
“Just two kilometres up the valley turn right back down the road.”
Two more tiring kilometres we scrambled, then over the last boggy bit of track and came out onto the road, but we turned left, as there was a bar in sight. We asked about the albergue.
“Oh its just down the road about two”……..
“Oh no” we began. She finished the sentence
“…. hundred meters”.
“Oh thank goodness” we said, sweat dripping from our noses and proceeded to order a well-earned beer.
It turned out the bar had the key to the albergue and stamped the credentials. Piero brought us both a lottery ticket as we had found so many clovers today our luck must be in, but I had lost one at the junction on the track when the tractor came along! Was that the one that controlled the winning number? We would have to wait several days to find out. We got the albergue to ourselves. We cooked egg and bacon and a hotdog for tea. That’s right, with some good luck the eggs were still whole!
Bed at quarter to eleven tired out. There was only a weak signal to text Maisie but in the end it went.







26th May
Peñasieta to La Mesa

We were up a bit late and set off up the road as we had been warned the track got worse further up. This pass is called El Palo or the stick. It was a hell of a climb, stick or no stick. The last section took a dirt path that went almost straight up with fewer zigzags. It went through a herd of ponies and then a herd of wild looking cows. I filled my water bottle at the fuente near the top and the cows came round us. We headed off not liking the rather large bull that kept bellowing to his harem!





The views on the way up and from the top were fantastic.







Going down too, but it was hard to follow the track because of tree grubbing and planting. All arrows had disappeared. We even lost each other at one point for a while. Being able to see so far yet get lost was easy because the track ran along the ridge tops, on one side one moment, then on the other and the ridge forked too. I was surprised at myself because I became quite worried wondering whether I should continue on or climb up to the ridge and look over to see if Piero was in sight, I tried calling out again and that didn’t work. I decided to go to the top and called again and Piero answered and appeared over a ridge, I was relieved. Not that it really made any difference, we were both still lost! Eventually a marker and a gate in a boundary fence and then the track wound its way down to La Mesa, a small hamlet with no facilities except the albergue. As I walked up to the albergue I found another clover, it would be a good stop I decided as the sun shone on the little hamlet. Paco and Piero had arrived before me. I made a meal of pasta but no sweet, having eaten all of my fruit and most of Piero’s today. Chores done, washing dry we turned in and slept well.






27th May
La Mesa to Grandas de Salime
This morning I was up first, I boiled an egg, and made coffee for all but there were no cups! We managed as best we could by sharing my cup and a lid and a cooking bowl!
Paco and Piero and I set off up the steep road going up over the mountain behind the albergue. It went up almost to the modern windmills on the top, then onto a steep track down the other side. Paco now dropped behind. It was a wonderful but steep decent, first moor-land and purple heather then bright green mosses and fresh sunlit leaves as we wound our way through ancient oak and chestnut forests down to a reservoir. On the dam wall we met another guy, a Spaniard I think. I was speaking Spanish all the time now so he might not have been, I might just not have noticed his accent. I was to meet him again for a fleeting moment at the end of the trip. Taking a lot of photos we crossed over and started the climb up the other side past the café restaurant that was unfortunately closed when we needed one. We stopped a while and greased and rubbed our feet. As we sat here in the shade Paco caught up. A little further on up we came across a large cherry tree by a house and Piero climbed up and tossed the ripe fruit to us below. A man came out of his house and caught us in the act but he did not complain too much, just told us not to harm the tree. It made up for not getting a coffee and we set off again up the tarmac towards Salime. I was now talking with Paco and as he was still having trouble with blistered feet we dropped behind. Near the top an arrow pointed up the side off the road and my feet said get off the tarmac and I listened to them and said to Paco I would go via the track while he chose to use the road that is usually easier. We would meet later. I had a wonderful solo walk through the oak and chestnut tree forest climbing high up and over the mountain pass. I eventually came down into Salime, coming out of the forest onto the road. I wondered if Paco was already here or should I wait for him? A pretty young señorita came along the road helping her mother, who looked very frail. I asked if they had seen Paco and they informed me he had gone by a short while ago. I had found a four-leaf clover as I had come into the village and still had it in my hand. I passed it to the girl and wished her luck and the two beamed and thanked me profusely. I turned and went into the village and found the albergue. It was in the police station, probably old cells I thought as I entered. But it was a fairly large room with several bunks, some taken and I recognised Paco’s and Piero’s gear. There was the usual toilet and shower off of it. I had been quite early arriving and now was able to relax with a beer and lemonade (clara), at a table under a sunshade outside a bar. I met Paco and he told me where to get the credential stamped, which meant calling at another bar. We then went to a local museum that was quite fantastic with rooms set up as they would have been just a few years back. Kitchens were built with an open fire in the centre of the room.
“There would have been no chimney hole,” our guide said, “only the rich had chimneys. They could pay others to do the cooking and prepare food for the house. Hams and sausages were hung curing in the smoke filled atmosphere. The smoke would also drive vermin out of the cracks between the stones in the walls.” she continued
My guess was people would have had a lovely walnut tan in those days too. We had to leave unfortunately because it was now closing time, we both would have liked to spend much more time in here as there was such a lot to see.
Back on the street I called in a small souvenir shop and bought Maisie a small silver shell necklace. A shell is the Camino motive and often used to point the way which is great but every province has its own idea what side of the shell points the way, which can at times be confusing!
We decided to take a snack in a park and walked back through the village to one we had seen on our entry. We ate but didn’t stay long as a horrible stench came in on the breeze. We never found out what it was, but oh did it pong! On the way back I saw the girl that I had given the four-leaf clover to and she smiled in recognition. When asked, she directed us to the bakers nearby to buy bread for tomorrow. Wow! The smell of that shop was the opposite to the smell in the park, it was wonderful. Bread was being made in a wood burning oven and they were just removing some as we entered the shop. Paco was overjoyed at finding such a place and I, on tasting the bread we bought, agreed it was the finest crusty loaf I’d ever tasted. The amazing thing was I carried that big loaf for four days eating some each day and to the last bite it was delicious.