Day 8 Saturday 8th May - El Acebo to Ponferrada

Bubbles - what is the point of them? No, good people, I am not questioning the validity of the Hellenic nation (bubble & squeak = Greek).....although that maybe worthy of some merit. Unlike the chirpy Cockney faithful down at West Ham I'm not "forever blowing bubbles" either. I am, however, prone to developing the little buggers on my feet. Current count is two; one on each foot. I'd love to show you them, but the photographer is on his day off. But it's safe to say, they're right little devils. Luckily for me, today is also my day off from walking along the Camino. Therefore, I shall merely be having a wander around the town of Ponferrada.

I can hear you saying, "but Nodge, pray tell us about your adventures in getting to Ponferrada". Firstly though, Ponferrada is a con! Apparently it means Iron Bridge. Well there isn't one. Bloody rubbish! There is a nice old Puente Romano......Roman Bridge. But no iron. I shall be applying for a refund.

Now that's what I call an Iron Bridge

And so the journey to "Not really an iron bridge".....

The night before, we had a marvellous Pilgrims meal at our Albergue. Great company. To my left two Sisters (of mercy?) from Carlow in Ireland. I reckon they were both c70. One was called Kathleen, but we failed to establish the other one's name. So for the purpose of simplicity, we'll call them the Carlow Colleen's (CC). The older, nameless one had done various sections of the Camino before, whereas Kathleen was, in that context, a Virgin. Typically genial, fun-loving and self-deprecating they were superb ambassadors for the Emerald Isle. To my right were two Germans c60 to 65. They happened to be brothers-in-law, and were from the very most north-western part of Bavaria. A city called Aschaffenberg which has a fine castle and is good place to stop off at to eat when driving to Nürnberg!

Anyway, the time flew by with lots of interesting conversations. The only disappointment was that the Bavarian Bros. did not like their wonderful "Mutti" (Angela Merkel). I chose not to tell them that my friend Steve had been having a love ❤  affair with her for years; writing almost daily.

Mutti

In all seriousness, these communal evenings are a huge part of the Camino experience. A raggle taggle bunch of strangers all putting themselves through this bizarre elongated experience of deep pleasure and pain, but with a common goal at the end.(deviants, please settle down, and control yourselves after that last sentence) It is uncannily strange how so much unity can be achieved so quickly. Particularly, when those involved are, as a rule of thumb, all looking out for each other, and not seeking to gain advantage or profit............"Dear Boris, why don't you and your exploitative acolytes try to........  " (I'll leave it there... you can guess what I'd have written!).

Unusually we had breakfast, but were on our way by 7.30. The first 8k was pretty dire really. Although there were beautiful views all around, we simply couldn't enjoy them. Descending approximately 1800 feet along narrow, rocky, bouldered paths took 100% concentration. No place for a fall. Even with walking poles, the feet were taking a battering; especially the toes. Publication of Blister World is surely imminent?

The view!

The paths

At last we got to Molinaseca. A lovely village with a Puente Romano (of course!). The Camino followed a lovely, well maintained street through the village. The delightful houses with their enclosed veranda's all very Galician. Except we weren't in Galicia! 

A Puente Romano

Molinaseca

At the far end of the village we stopped for a coffee. And there at the table next door was a plethora of pastel shades and two ghostly pale faces under big sun hats....yep, the Colleen's of Carlow had beaten us there! How the xxxx did that happen? After a few "top of mornings" and pleasantries our new Casper-like friends headed off towards Ponferrada.

The rest of the walk was pretty boring. About 7k from Ponferrada we headed away from the road, following the usual yellow arrows and scallop signs. From there we barely saw a soul and were beginning to think we may have cocked up*. Ponferrada remained in view all the way, its urban sprawl and high rise buildings looking pretty damn ugly in contrast to the surrounding hills and mountains. Clearly most Pilgrims took the direct route, along the the tedious road, into, and straight through the City. But our route skirted round the city and we approached from the South, with absolutely minimal suburbs.

Ponferrada suburbs

Crossing the Puente Romano, we were there. Right into the old historical part of the city, built on small hill at the confluence of the rivers Sil and Boeza.  We soon came upon the huge, and superbly restored, Castillo. A "must visit" for our day off on Sunday. We followed the very classy gold coloured arrows and scallops onwards through the old town, and over the Rio Sil to find our hotel in the noisy new town. The old town could also wait until Sunday.

Welcome to Ponferrada                        classy Camino signs

Another Puente Romano                              Castillo y Iglesia

In the evening, we treated ourselves to a nice walk up to Decathlon to buy a small day sack, to be used in the coming week.

Somehow after that I also accidentally found myself watching the local football team, Ponferradina playing against Burgos. Walking back from Decathlon I literally tripped on the pavement, and somehow landed straight into a seat at Estadio Toralìn. How that happened I'll never know! Ponferrada won, and there was a lovely family atmosphere.

Goooolllllllllllll Ponferradina.........                        

That's what we in the trade describe as "floodlight porn". 

Lastly, we are now in an area (County, if you like) called Bierzo. It is surrounded on all sides by mountains, and is therefore considered to be pretty remote. It has a unique microclimate that makes it particularly good for wine. As it borders Galicia, the Galician influence is clear to see. Many people speak Gallego, and in general the population has very pale skin. We've even seen some redheads. Of course the "Galle" bit in Gallego is the clue. We're on the edge of the land of the Celts. A thing that makes the north-west of Spain unique. More on that to come.

clearly and influence from the more westerly parts of Europe

Rest day on Sunday. A brief report on that will follow.

* dear Mr. Cooper, we hadn't cocked up. So sadly no piss take opportunity for you this time! Go back to spilling your beer