Caucasus again

Day 16 Rabe de las Calzadas to Hontinas    (Tues 21^st May)

And so up onto the Meseta – supposedly a mystical sparse place.

An early start from Rabe, and we soon began the long and surprisingly gentle climb up onto the Meseta. With the early morning sun rising behind us it was a beautifully calm and peaceful time. In the first hour we met one person. Sublime!

The environment was something akin to parts of Exmoor – lots of well-developed agriculture coupled with rough ragged outcrops and some sparse (ish) moorland. But it was quiet – so quiet; with the exception of birdsong that was ever-present for the 11 miles or so that we walked.

We’d been asked to carry a shell in memory of a friend’s friend who’d died tragically a couple of years ago. The idea was to lay it somewhere befitting her memory. And so it was. In the wide open space of the Meseta with beautiful blue skies and the sound of birdsong. We’d never met the lady, but it was nevertheless a poignant and thought-provoking moment.

Hontanas was our destination for the day. A tiny village of about 50 people, that is effectively dependant upon agriculture; and increasingly, the pilgrims of the Camino. Genuine rural Spain – a place of deep history and culture; unlike the rampant commercialism of the Costa’s.

Cate had a late afternoon nap, and I hit the town. Five minutes later I’d done the town. The highlight was a naff statue of a man peeing in the ground of a house than can only be described as a temple of  tastelessness! For a brief moment I thought I might be in Essex!

However, in the last few metres before I got back to our Hostal I was drawn to the entrance of the church where the doors were open and gentle music was wafting into the warm Iberian air of the afternoon. Another day, another church ………….

Well, no. This place was special – much less elaborately decorated than most of the churches we’d seen here; but more importantly it had lots of genuinely welcoming touches. A place with softer seats and an array of bibles in many different languages. Plus numerous leaflets; again in many languages. Do you really get many Croatian’s, Hungarian’s and Greek’s here? Unlike any previous church on this trip, it had real candles that could be lit in memory or honour of people. They have  appalling “light up” candles where you insert an Euro and a fake candle lights for a few minutes.

I’m not into all that stuff, but for some daft reason I found myself lighting a yellow (of course) candle and thinking of my mum. All alone, I shed a couple of tears, but felt relieved and empowered. Was this my “Camino moment”? Who knows, but it was unique; and felt okay.

Only one way to recover from that – a large beer sat in the sun. Futile maybe, but calming.

That’s today. Hontanas is a special place to me – somewhere I might just remember for ever.