Day 11 Tuesday 10th May - Villafranca del Bierzo to Laguna de Castilla

May 10, 2022

Simple question to begin with. Curtis Mayfield's "Move on up" is an excellent song......those horns are enough to make you, well I suppose, pretty horny aren't they? But, and it's a big "but", is the cover version by Woking's finest, The Jam, even better??? That's a tricky one for you poptarts.

Why on earth is he going on about that, you may well ask. Well, of course, that is exactly what we've done today. Moved on up towards our destination. The accent has also been heavily on the "up". The facts....26.75km (16.6 miles) walked, with a total ascent of 2450 feet. The vast majority of that ascent came in the last 3.5 miles. Pretty darn steep too! Today was the 8th of our 16 walking days to get to Santiago and additionally we went through the <200k to go barrier. We now sit agonisingly close, just 1k, to the border with Spain's most westerly province, Galicia.

Aided by the Vino Tinto with our meal last night we both slept superbly. Hallelujah! Given that, what will the grumpy old correspondent moan about today? Blisters? Young People? Septic Tanks? The French? The Wycombe cheats? Walking Boots? Dinnae panic, the Camino provides!

Slainté

Knowing what lay ahead of us today, it was the earliest start yet. Exiting the Hostal onto dark streets of Villafranca at 6.23 it dawned on us that finding our way might be a challenge initially. Within 15 minutes we were out walking along a road in total darkness. We could barely make out the "flechas amarillas" (yellow arrows).

Slowly the daylight began - with all the pace of a Wycombe Wanderers substitution when a goal up! Our route for 80% of the day followed a very quiet road up the valley of the Rio Valcarce. The sound of the river largely drowned out the noise of the lorries on the N6 motorway that also dogged us most of the way. Ordinarily I'd hate this motorway, but it wasn't too busy, was often just out of sight, and had some spectacularly high bridges. Awesome feats of engineering!

After 9k we came upon the village of Trabadelo. During this time we hadn't seen a single pilgrim at all. Had we gone wrong? We'd already been through two settlements where all cafés, bars and Albergues were still in the land of nod; so the need for coffee was rising dramatically. Trabadelo looked to be heading the same way, but then we found a lovely Albergue that was happy to indulge us. A serious relief, as the atmosphere was building.

Soon after emerging from this place we came upon the 2 Septics we'd met the previous evening, plus all the rest of their group. Were ear plugs going to be needed? After all the collective name for a group of Yanks is "A cacophony" isn't it? In fairness, they were pretty quiet, thank heavens. Tom greeted us warmly and introduced us the Irish people he'd met yesterday. I really should have responded with "Top of the morning ya fecking eejut", but somehow I found the diplomatic skills not to.

On we went, regularly passing, and being passed, by our friends from the Land of the Free. Free, of course, if you can afford to pay for it!

Our second stop was as Café Omega, which was run by a lovely Hungarian couple. It had some superb photos of Santiago, and the Camino on the walls inside. This was our last stop before the big climb of 2,200 feet up to our destination, so the big bocadillos were consumed with considered gusto.

In spite of the N6 popping into view and earshot periodically, the walk up the Valcarce valley was rather lovely. We passed through the charming village of Herrerias, and then the climb began. For the first 50 minutes it was shaded, but horribly steep. After that it was just steep, and bloody boiling. I sweated; Cate being a lady, glistened but went the colour of a beetroot. I suspect we did not make a glamorous sight.

Now, it is fair to say that we have differing walking styles when going uphill. I tend to go faster but stop often, whereas Cate just plods consistently and never-endingly upwards. For that, she has been awarded a new nickname - The Mountain Billy Goat! I think our first born will approve of that, as the German team he supports rather avidly is FC Köln- The Billy Goats.

Anyway we swapped positions constantly as we crawled up the bloody hills, like a classic edition of the Wacky Races. She Penelope Pitstop, me more akin to the Slag Brothers, blaspheming as I went. Interspersed with this were the blooming Septics (The Anthill Mob?)....here come the Irish was wearing "tin". Fecking eejuts! All the while the searing sun (Muttley) mocked our suffering as we edged, increasingly moist, towards Laguna de Castilla.

And then, we were there. We'd done it! To celebrate we had a shower and did some washing. Our Albergue is delightful ,and Laguna too. With a population of 20 it's absolutely rocking. The noisiest inhabitants being the herds of cattle with their constantly clanging cow bells. It's like Ski Sunday, but without the Skiing or the Sunday.