Hi
Peaceful Warrior.
Monday, 27 September 2010
Rest, of the way.
I was happy that Qt had gone on ahead, no way would she have wanted what I had done, nor deserved such personal cruelty. It was hardly an act of love or mercy that had made me forge ahead undaunted. It was heer bloody mindedness ! I knew that I would have to rest here at least a couple of days, as I had severly overdone my determination to reach Arcos. Better if I had stayed at the venta on the terrace, than to have put myself through this hell of injury. But this is no-doubt what Heinsight is for, I suppose !!
Qt had been bought some flowers, by a Spanish gentleman, I heard. (The wonders of sms communications, again unavailable to pilgrims of old) I hoped for flowers on my coffin, as I dreamed of a comfy end in hospital, nurses tending to my wounds. Then came the sound of gunfire !!!!!!
I was rudely awoken on my bench, dreaming of death, to the sound of the irrigation around the park coming into action. A hidden timer setting off the water jets that oscilated, spraying the grass and trees. I quickly realised that I had been spared the coverage of the spray, but only by inches. But I was really beyond caring at this point. It was still dark, early in the morning, and my feet were still on fire with pain and discomfort. I shifted about and eventually the world dissappeared once more, returning with the sunrise and a smell of autumn blossoms, floating on the breeze.
I had walked in the region of 45km´s on my fourth day of walking my ´Camino Pequeno Andaluz`, and here I was stupidly beaten, for the time being.... The comments I made before, about the spirit of man, is somewhat inadequate. I now realise that we, ´Mankind`, are the stupidest of all the animal kingdom. We actually choose to do ourselves detremental harm, even though it is well within our powers to do nothing but good. We use horrible force, over stupid idealism, to force ourselves to do the cruelest and most inhumane service to ourselves and our kind. And we use the reasons of progress or challenge to cover it up. What we are is really a mix of prudent and pathogenic............
The two days of rest have proved a great help to my pain, yet I fear more lessons in stupidity to follow henceforth. I have made a descicion to go to Sevilla tomorrow to both see how Qt is doing, and to postpone my investigation of this personal route. Using my sensible head, the continuation will still take at least 4 days, to walk. I will return to complete this stretch at the end of my Camino, God willing..
Qt had been bought some flowers, by a Spanish gentleman, I heard. (The wonders of sms communications, again unavailable to pilgrims of old) I hoped for flowers on my coffin, as I dreamed of a comfy end in hospital, nurses tending to my wounds. Then came the sound of gunfire !!!!!!
I was rudely awoken on my bench, dreaming of death, to the sound of the irrigation around the park coming into action. A hidden timer setting off the water jets that oscilated, spraying the grass and trees. I quickly realised that I had been spared the coverage of the spray, but only by inches. But I was really beyond caring at this point. It was still dark, early in the morning, and my feet were still on fire with pain and discomfort. I shifted about and eventually the world dissappeared once more, returning with the sunrise and a smell of autumn blossoms, floating on the breeze.
I had walked in the region of 45km´s on my fourth day of walking my ´Camino Pequeno Andaluz`, and here I was stupidly beaten, for the time being.... The comments I made before, about the spirit of man, is somewhat inadequate. I now realise that we, ´Mankind`, are the stupidest of all the animal kingdom. We actually choose to do ourselves detremental harm, even though it is well within our powers to do nothing but good. We use horrible force, over stupid idealism, to force ourselves to do the cruelest and most inhumane service to ourselves and our kind. And we use the reasons of progress or challenge to cover it up. What we are is really a mix of prudent and pathogenic............
The two days of rest have proved a great help to my pain, yet I fear more lessons in stupidity to follow henceforth. I have made a descicion to go to Sevilla tomorrow to both see how Qt is doing, and to postpone my investigation of this personal route. Using my sensible head, the continuation will still take at least 4 days, to walk. I will return to complete this stretch at the end of my Camino, God willing..
Saturday, 25 September 2010
From Hell to Heaven and back. (Cont)
What were the omens I was looking out for, as I travelled on, having recently met Santiago ? Were not these, just quite simply local girls, with a staid and boring life, themselves keen for news of adventures beyond their towns ? One of the three, seemed a little more attentive, as eventually other customers did arrive, leaving me free to stop thinking about being eaten. Sandra was without doubt, an Andalucian senorita of great beauty. Slim elegant and with eyes a man could get lost into. Her slighlty older companion Deborah, clearly the boss, soon had Sandra running around cleaning and serving, whilst she attended to the decorations behind the bar. Luisa, equally sweet, but much more shy, busied herself cleaning the terrace, sated I imagined for now, with tales of my journey.
As wonderful a relaxation as it was for me to stay here, awash with dreams of dancing the night away in Sandras arms, I knew that the road was calling. I said my goodbyes, and left the waystop, a new spring in my step, which kept me going for some distance, before the tiredness came again. And out there on the way to Arcos de la Frontera, where Hell had become a passage to Heaven, I found myself on the slippery slope down once more, the fires being stoked for my soul. Leaving at 7.30pm to walk another 20km´s was without doubt, one of the stupidest things I have ever done. I found another refreshment stop at a Venta along the road, a couple of cold Cokes to perk up my energy and I was off again, aware that nightfall was fast approaching. Here the road passed under another hyway, between San Jose del Valle and Jerez de la Frontera. I wished I was on my way to either, by public transport. The road ahead was so straight I could see at least the first 5km´s in the distance. As I reached the point on the hill I had previously spied some time ago, the darkness was finally taking over. I was walking on unlit hyways, where cars were passing ferociously fast, not expecting to see anything pedestrian, except the odd rat or snake... I have a head torch, so found it out amongst my stuff, finally giving in to not being able to see in the dark. I also enjoyed briefly the opportunity to remove my hot boots. Walking for so long on sun heated roads, was both tiresome and increasing the risk of stress injury. The torch worked well, it has a strobe function, so as to preserve the battery, and appear more observable. When I put my boots back on, I could hardly stand. I was tottering about like a penguin. I knew that my blisters were coming up, but could do nothing about it here, the pain more of a dull ache in the soles of my feet. With nowhere to go but the road ahead, or the kerbside, where snakes do their rattling around during the wee small hours, I forged on. Arcos was definately closer, one more hour I guessed. Apart from the sheer beauty of the walks across Andalucia, which was lost on me now in the dark, my other past time had been the arithmatic. The working out of speeds, distances, and road left, from road covered, computing in my head constantly. A throwback to being Asbergic, I guessed.......
I reached Junta de los Rios at about 11pm. All evidence, due to my calculations were, that I should be in Arcos by now. The Spanish authorities, must have altered all of the road signs recently, because apparently Arcos was still some 6km´s away !!!! Either a huge conspiracy was underway or I was walking far slower that I had expected to be. I had made fairly good progress this morning, and had been almost sprinting in comparison, after seeing angels. Yet here I was with a choice. It´s great to have choice ! Find a hostel here, or go on. The lights were friendly, burning bright in a Venta on the main road, and I was about to give it up for the day, when I heard someone mention ´Pilgrims`, and the ´Camino de Santiago`.
In the front garden of a house, a family were taking the night air, and chatting, surprised to see me passing no doubt. I replied instantly with a greeting and spent a few minutes in conversation responding to their enquiries. Some sort of foolish pride must have gripped me, as I continued on along the road and out of the peaceful village. After another few, slow kilometres, when the barking of dogs had died down, I suddenly felt a most excruciating pain, below the toes on my left foot. JESUS CHRIST ! I thought that I had stepped on a nail, as the pain tore straight through me. I cried out in the wilderness, the open darkness carrying my scream, but to no-one hear except the roadkill. I paused for a minute maybe two, knowing it had only been a blister exploding, yet unsure if I could go on anymore. But I was somewhere, possibly half way between Junta and Arcos. I knew that if I stopped for more than a few brief minutes I would not be able to go on, so adopted a way of scrunching my toes up, to lesten the obvoius discomfort. My right foot seemed in surprisingly good shape comparatively, yet the knee on this leg was suffering more than the left. I swear that if you could have seen me, I would have made an amusing sight. Hobbling along like a penguin through the night, my torch flashing repeatedly in tandem with my movements.
At about 1am I finally had to sit down, having beaten several summits, each out doing the previous, overlooking the town of Arcos, about 1km away. By now I was hardly able to worry about snake attacks, over the severe cramps and the blisters. I still had some water, the preparations well suited to the jouney. The town shone like a jewel in the night, across the valley between us. I realised gratefully, that I would not, (if I ever moved on from here) have to go down all the way into the valley to enter the town, a high connection visible to my left. At about 1.30am I finally reached the destination of my days walk, almost on all fours. I had forgotten the idea of accomodation at this point, choosing the nearer Mirador (Lookout point) to the right of the entrance to this town. The benches looked soft enough to this weary pilgrim. I was too hot to care about getting cold during the rest of the night. I realised that this last push, had taken about 30 minutes to cover what I would normally have done in less than 10 minutes.
My feet gave way as I lay me down to sleep, and dreams came thick and fast, I had reached Arcos !
As wonderful a relaxation as it was for me to stay here, awash with dreams of dancing the night away in Sandras arms, I knew that the road was calling. I said my goodbyes, and left the waystop, a new spring in my step, which kept me going for some distance, before the tiredness came again. And out there on the way to Arcos de la Frontera, where Hell had become a passage to Heaven, I found myself on the slippery slope down once more, the fires being stoked for my soul. Leaving at 7.30pm to walk another 20km´s was without doubt, one of the stupidest things I have ever done. I found another refreshment stop at a Venta along the road, a couple of cold Cokes to perk up my energy and I was off again, aware that nightfall was fast approaching. Here the road passed under another hyway, between San Jose del Valle and Jerez de la Frontera. I wished I was on my way to either, by public transport. The road ahead was so straight I could see at least the first 5km´s in the distance. As I reached the point on the hill I had previously spied some time ago, the darkness was finally taking over. I was walking on unlit hyways, where cars were passing ferociously fast, not expecting to see anything pedestrian, except the odd rat or snake... I have a head torch, so found it out amongst my stuff, finally giving in to not being able to see in the dark. I also enjoyed briefly the opportunity to remove my hot boots. Walking for so long on sun heated roads, was both tiresome and increasing the risk of stress injury. The torch worked well, it has a strobe function, so as to preserve the battery, and appear more observable. When I put my boots back on, I could hardly stand. I was tottering about like a penguin. I knew that my blisters were coming up, but could do nothing about it here, the pain more of a dull ache in the soles of my feet. With nowhere to go but the road ahead, or the kerbside, where snakes do their rattling around during the wee small hours, I forged on. Arcos was definately closer, one more hour I guessed. Apart from the sheer beauty of the walks across Andalucia, which was lost on me now in the dark, my other past time had been the arithmatic. The working out of speeds, distances, and road left, from road covered, computing in my head constantly. A throwback to being Asbergic, I guessed.......
I reached Junta de los Rios at about 11pm. All evidence, due to my calculations were, that I should be in Arcos by now. The Spanish authorities, must have altered all of the road signs recently, because apparently Arcos was still some 6km´s away !!!! Either a huge conspiracy was underway or I was walking far slower that I had expected to be. I had made fairly good progress this morning, and had been almost sprinting in comparison, after seeing angels. Yet here I was with a choice. It´s great to have choice ! Find a hostel here, or go on. The lights were friendly, burning bright in a Venta on the main road, and I was about to give it up for the day, when I heard someone mention ´Pilgrims`, and the ´Camino de Santiago`.
In the front garden of a house, a family were taking the night air, and chatting, surprised to see me passing no doubt. I replied instantly with a greeting and spent a few minutes in conversation responding to their enquiries. Some sort of foolish pride must have gripped me, as I continued on along the road and out of the peaceful village. After another few, slow kilometres, when the barking of dogs had died down, I suddenly felt a most excruciating pain, below the toes on my left foot. JESUS CHRIST ! I thought that I had stepped on a nail, as the pain tore straight through me. I cried out in the wilderness, the open darkness carrying my scream, but to no-one hear except the roadkill. I paused for a minute maybe two, knowing it had only been a blister exploding, yet unsure if I could go on anymore. But I was somewhere, possibly half way between Junta and Arcos. I knew that if I stopped for more than a few brief minutes I would not be able to go on, so adopted a way of scrunching my toes up, to lesten the obvoius discomfort. My right foot seemed in surprisingly good shape comparatively, yet the knee on this leg was suffering more than the left. I swear that if you could have seen me, I would have made an amusing sight. Hobbling along like a penguin through the night, my torch flashing repeatedly in tandem with my movements.
At about 1am I finally had to sit down, having beaten several summits, each out doing the previous, overlooking the town of Arcos, about 1km away. By now I was hardly able to worry about snake attacks, over the severe cramps and the blisters. I still had some water, the preparations well suited to the jouney. The town shone like a jewel in the night, across the valley between us. I realised gratefully, that I would not, (if I ever moved on from here) have to go down all the way into the valley to enter the town, a high connection visible to my left. At about 1.30am I finally reached the destination of my days walk, almost on all fours. I had forgotten the idea of accomodation at this point, choosing the nearer Mirador (Lookout point) to the right of the entrance to this town. The benches looked soft enough to this weary pilgrim. I was too hot to care about getting cold during the rest of the night. I realised that this last push, had taken about 30 minutes to cover what I would normally have done in less than 10 minutes.
My feet gave way as I lay me down to sleep, and dreams came thick and fast, I had reached Arcos !
From Hell to Heaven and back.
Qt had decided that she still could´t walk properly and didn´t want to kill herself by walking 40km´s to Arcos de la Frontera. What a killjoy !! My main aim was the next big place to stop, to break the journey to Sevilla into bite sized pieces. (You will henceforth realise, just how stupid I am, about the size of pieces I can bite) The only real respite from 40km´s is a town some 10km´s away, Paterna de Rivera. And following that, at about 33km is the town of Junta de los Rios.
As you may know if you have ever walked, just how important it is, not only to know where you are going, but also how to get there. To this aim I climbed the ramparts of the old city castle with Qt last night, to avail myself of the direction and roads to walk out of the small town of Medina Sidonia. The views were amazing (See my title picture) and the winds were strong and powerful. I spied Arcos via Paterna away into the distance. Unfortunately for me, I forgot that dear Qt was leaving by bus again, and would need escorting to the bus station. I say unfortunately, because this totally altered my bearings as to the first road to chose. Once she was safely on her way to Jerez de la Frontera, I waved the town goodbye walking briskly down the hill into the new day. I thought I could spy the faraway town and began following the route out of Medina. In the distance I could see a dusty track that stretched as far as I could see, towards my journeys end. After some 5km´s I happened upon a sign, that informed me that any further progress would be a trespass of private property. Oh my word, was I distressed !!! Fortunately a friendly farmer was in his car driving towards me. (The safety, still on his shotgun.....) He advised me of my error, informing me that I was also on my way to Jerez across country. Apart from the fact that in these parts of Spain the land is not free to walk across, I was still way off course. Back in the days Santiago walked his flocks across Andalucia, there had been no fences, but in my time, they were everywhere. I am now aware that the law permits shooting in these free range areas, so be warned if you stray like me. It could be damaging to your health !!!
In my charming way, I asked the farmer for a lift, to take me back to the town where he was headed, so as not to have to walk the distance before I rejoined my journey. He was a very kindly man, taking me all the way back to the town some 5km´s away and dropping me off on the road I needed to take, out of Medina. I was a little dissappointed at myself, my spirits a little lower to say the least. I still had 40km to go... The time was around 10.30am and I had wasted a good couple of hours in a mis-pursuit of my goal. I tried to remain impassive about it, but knew that a hard day had just got even harder. On the way to Paterna, I soon realised just how the route was unsympathetic and inconsiderate to walking. It was pretty inconsiderate to traffic aswell, the road becoming so narrow in places, it´s a wonder how vehicles can pass one another without incident. The drop off into the verges is often very steep. During the journey I did get to see a wind turbine being constructed.
These huge pieces of apparatus, a worthy energy source in such windy terrains. For me though, both fighting the narrow road and the wind trying to blow me into the fields, was very tiring. Much tougher that I wanted to give it credit for. On the long climb uphill into Paterna, I prayed constantly for my salvation from both lorries and the wind. And magically the snakes were invisible too, except for the skin of a whopper, as I entered the village.
I nearly gave up the Camino then, seriously. But the spirit of man is strong, as too my desire to complete my journey and realise my dreams. If I had known then just what a high, and a low I would go through over the next few hours, I would have quit from the low... I guess the high saved me....
I took shelter in the main plaza of the village, and ate and drank to restore my depleted energies, having already done about 15km of a 10 km journey. I needed sleep too, so took my siesta in the shade ´til about 4.30 pm, all the time wrestling with a desire to quit for the day. I am so glad that I didn´t, but so sad that I pushed so hard to find my destiny.
The road from Paterna de Rivera was narrow again at first, but signs advertising the widening were a welcome reward. For the next 10km I had a wide berth from everything, except the fears about snakes ! A few lorry drivers pipped their horns, but more in a, I know what you are doing kind of a way. They seemed keen to wave, possibly former pilgrims. I did however get covered in fine white dust, from the new unpaved road surface, and the wind pushing at my back. I swear, that on a few occasions my feet left the floor for a few centimetres. The road just stretched unkindly ahead, the town of Arcos visible, but a long way off yet. Because I had set off from Paterna, I knew that I would have to walk another 20 something kilometres before I would find another rest point. The timing was bad too. So late in the afternoon and only about 20km covered by 6.30pm. As I was about to give up hope of salvation, I spied a sign for a Venta, at 300metres. A veritable oasis in the distance, as the road road curved to the left. Spurred on, I arrived shortly to Venta Cantarero 2.
Hyperbole aside for a moment, I entered the Venta relieved and rejoicing, for a chance to be refreshed. And simply, was met at the counter by 3 angels. Ok. Ok. I hear what you are saying ! A man in his mid life, finding an oasis hosted by three, gorgeous young women, of course he saw angels.......!
Well in truth I am not aware of any particular crisis in my life at this point, though being single does have it´s negative aspects. But I am living my life, one day at a time, and believing in miracles, as this surely was. There were no vehicles parked outside, and yet I had seen plenty of vehicles pass me out on the hyway, so I presumed it was just one of those pauses in their otherwise busy day. Though, the way they all gatherd around me at the bar, intently listening and asking questions about my travels, I couldn´t help feeling that their day had been a triffle slow or boring up ´til this point. Oh yes, and the feeling that at any moment, they would turn into vampires and devour me, as I had seen in the Tarantino film, ´dusk ´til Dawn`, some years ago!!!!!!
As you may know if you have ever walked, just how important it is, not only to know where you are going, but also how to get there. To this aim I climbed the ramparts of the old city castle with Qt last night, to avail myself of the direction and roads to walk out of the small town of Medina Sidonia. The views were amazing (See my title picture) and the winds were strong and powerful. I spied Arcos via Paterna away into the distance. Unfortunately for me, I forgot that dear Qt was leaving by bus again, and would need escorting to the bus station. I say unfortunately, because this totally altered my bearings as to the first road to chose. Once she was safely on her way to Jerez de la Frontera, I waved the town goodbye walking briskly down the hill into the new day. I thought I could spy the faraway town and began following the route out of Medina. In the distance I could see a dusty track that stretched as far as I could see, towards my journeys end. After some 5km´s I happened upon a sign, that informed me that any further progress would be a trespass of private property. Oh my word, was I distressed !!! Fortunately a friendly farmer was in his car driving towards me. (The safety, still on his shotgun.....) He advised me of my error, informing me that I was also on my way to Jerez across country. Apart from the fact that in these parts of Spain the land is not free to walk across, I was still way off course. Back in the days Santiago walked his flocks across Andalucia, there had been no fences, but in my time, they were everywhere. I am now aware that the law permits shooting in these free range areas, so be warned if you stray like me. It could be damaging to your health !!!
In my charming way, I asked the farmer for a lift, to take me back to the town where he was headed, so as not to have to walk the distance before I rejoined my journey. He was a very kindly man, taking me all the way back to the town some 5km´s away and dropping me off on the road I needed to take, out of Medina. I was a little dissappointed at myself, my spirits a little lower to say the least. I still had 40km to go... The time was around 10.30am and I had wasted a good couple of hours in a mis-pursuit of my goal. I tried to remain impassive about it, but knew that a hard day had just got even harder. On the way to Paterna, I soon realised just how the route was unsympathetic and inconsiderate to walking. It was pretty inconsiderate to traffic aswell, the road becoming so narrow in places, it´s a wonder how vehicles can pass one another without incident. The drop off into the verges is often very steep. During the journey I did get to see a wind turbine being constructed.
These huge pieces of apparatus, a worthy energy source in such windy terrains. For me though, both fighting the narrow road and the wind trying to blow me into the fields, was very tiring. Much tougher that I wanted to give it credit for. On the long climb uphill into Paterna, I prayed constantly for my salvation from both lorries and the wind. And magically the snakes were invisible too, except for the skin of a whopper, as I entered the village.
I nearly gave up the Camino then, seriously. But the spirit of man is strong, as too my desire to complete my journey and realise my dreams. If I had known then just what a high, and a low I would go through over the next few hours, I would have quit from the low... I guess the high saved me....
I took shelter in the main plaza of the village, and ate and drank to restore my depleted energies, having already done about 15km of a 10 km journey. I needed sleep too, so took my siesta in the shade ´til about 4.30 pm, all the time wrestling with a desire to quit for the day. I am so glad that I didn´t, but so sad that I pushed so hard to find my destiny.
The road from Paterna de Rivera was narrow again at first, but signs advertising the widening were a welcome reward. For the next 10km I had a wide berth from everything, except the fears about snakes ! A few lorry drivers pipped their horns, but more in a, I know what you are doing kind of a way. They seemed keen to wave, possibly former pilgrims. I did however get covered in fine white dust, from the new unpaved road surface, and the wind pushing at my back. I swear, that on a few occasions my feet left the floor for a few centimetres. The road just stretched unkindly ahead, the town of Arcos visible, but a long way off yet. Because I had set off from Paterna, I knew that I would have to walk another 20 something kilometres before I would find another rest point. The timing was bad too. So late in the afternoon and only about 20km covered by 6.30pm. As I was about to give up hope of salvation, I spied a sign for a Venta, at 300metres. A veritable oasis in the distance, as the road road curved to the left. Spurred on, I arrived shortly to Venta Cantarero 2.
Hyperbole aside for a moment, I entered the Venta relieved and rejoicing, for a chance to be refreshed. And simply, was met at the counter by 3 angels. Ok. Ok. I hear what you are saying ! A man in his mid life, finding an oasis hosted by three, gorgeous young women, of course he saw angels.......!
Well in truth I am not aware of any particular crisis in my life at this point, though being single does have it´s negative aspects. But I am living my life, one day at a time, and believing in miracles, as this surely was. There were no vehicles parked outside, and yet I had seen plenty of vehicles pass me out on the hyway, so I presumed it was just one of those pauses in their otherwise busy day. Though, the way they all gatherd around me at the bar, intently listening and asking questions about my travels, I couldn´t help feeling that their day had been a triffle slow or boring up ´til this point. Oh yes, and the feeling that at any moment, they would turn into vampires and devour me, as I had seen in the Tarantino film, ´dusk ´til Dawn`, some years ago!!!!!!
Friday, 24 September 2010
Roadkill (Cont)
Eventually I moved on down the cobbled track, towards another Santiago. For much of the morning my troubles were the questions still that had no answers. Was he really Santiago ? Had I met the King of Salem ? What was the omen of the snake about ? Where was Fatima ? Andy why in heavens name, was I not seeing angels if I was on my way into a coma ?
How had he known I was travelling and how had he known of my search for love ?
As the sun rose hotly, the heat from the day rose to greet me like a wave. Fortunately the Levanter was cutting its way across the hills and open plains, feeding the wind turbines, and cooling my brow now and then. According to my map, there was little in the way of villages out here and nothing remotely on my route, except the small villages either side of the main hyway. To reach any of them, I would have to take another detour of at least 5km. All along the route, I kept finding layed out before me, the remains of the roadkill, that had probably stepped out during the night-time hours. I was surprised, and not nessecarily in a good way, to see just how many snakes there were out here. Some of them very fat and very long. Or they had been ! Tie that in with both the passing of a headstone the previous day ( a young motorcyclist killed ) on a very straight hyway, and the experience with Santiago this morning, and I was one nervous bunny. Of course plenty of cars and lorries passed me by. Some hooted their horns, possibly because they too, were former pilgrims or knew about them. Others, possibly nothing better to do than scare the Shit out of an already jumpy, walker.
As a precaution, I had been to the tourist offices, and the casa de Cultura in Vejer, to inquire as to the refreshment stops along the way to Medina. One, the tourist office, had no idea, and coudn´t wait to get a leaflet into my hands and me, out of the door. I was sure that it wasn´t approaching siesta. The girl in the casa de Cultura, seemed equally unhelpful, but assured me that there was a watering hole on the way to Medina. At about the four hour mark I needed to rest so chose a farm gateway entrance, free of obstructions, and snakes ! After about half an hour I knew I´d better move or cease up, so set off once more. Almost an hour later, I actually found the rest area, spoken of, at 20km, 10km to go ´til Medina Sidonia. Well, as you can imagine, I have to apologise to the girl in the casa de Cultura (who isn´t a lying bitch....) about the existence of the venta.
Tres Arcos was a welcome venue, and I have to add, excellent eating stop. The salad and fish were amazing. They didn´t even mind me taking off my odorous footwear for the duration of my visit. Finally fed and watered, I set off to meet Qt in the village which seemed close enough to spit at, yet took another two hours to reach.
The last few kilometres were very hard and I considered a taxi more than once, even a passing car would have possibly been flagged down for a lift. But in the absense of traffic I soldiered on, eventually realising how Santiago had known I was travelling. DURGH !!!! The back pack !!!! The walking poles !! But this did not explain the odd dialogue between us, nor the omen of the snake, which kept one eye on the kerb grass all day.
If you have ever travelled so far on foot, each step you will know, is very precious, yet very cruely spent. As I arrived at the end of my days walk, into the Plaza, where I saw Qt waiting quietly, tears filled my eyes with gratitude and love. Such heightened emotions are common on ´the way`. Fortunately for me, I had been able to listen to rousing music this past two hours. These wonders of technology not open to pilgrims of old. I have to say that normally, I don´t agree with spoiling the experience with too much outside influence. Though of course the Pelegrinos of times gone by, did not have Goretex and lightweight fabric for their loads. Neither, it has to be said, did they have all the other trappings of a modern pilgrimage at hand. They slept neath the stars and ate very simple, self prepared meals each day. They stopped when they wanted, and didn´t have to make it to the nearest safety stop or nice comfy Albergue. Unless this was a sign of my delerium, I may well be on my way to discovering the hardships, encountered by pilgrims from the past 17 centuries or so.
Qt was so pleased to see me too, and we soon discovered how lovely it was to have company once more.
How had he known I was travelling and how had he known of my search for love ?
As the sun rose hotly, the heat from the day rose to greet me like a wave. Fortunately the Levanter was cutting its way across the hills and open plains, feeding the wind turbines, and cooling my brow now and then. According to my map, there was little in the way of villages out here and nothing remotely on my route, except the small villages either side of the main hyway. To reach any of them, I would have to take another detour of at least 5km. All along the route, I kept finding layed out before me, the remains of the roadkill, that had probably stepped out during the night-time hours. I was surprised, and not nessecarily in a good way, to see just how many snakes there were out here. Some of them very fat and very long. Or they had been ! Tie that in with both the passing of a headstone the previous day ( a young motorcyclist killed ) on a very straight hyway, and the experience with Santiago this morning, and I was one nervous bunny. Of course plenty of cars and lorries passed me by. Some hooted their horns, possibly because they too, were former pilgrims or knew about them. Others, possibly nothing better to do than scare the Shit out of an already jumpy, walker.
As a precaution, I had been to the tourist offices, and the casa de Cultura in Vejer, to inquire as to the refreshment stops along the way to Medina. One, the tourist office, had no idea, and coudn´t wait to get a leaflet into my hands and me, out of the door. I was sure that it wasn´t approaching siesta. The girl in the casa de Cultura, seemed equally unhelpful, but assured me that there was a watering hole on the way to Medina. At about the four hour mark I needed to rest so chose a farm gateway entrance, free of obstructions, and snakes ! After about half an hour I knew I´d better move or cease up, so set off once more. Almost an hour later, I actually found the rest area, spoken of, at 20km, 10km to go ´til Medina Sidonia. Well, as you can imagine, I have to apologise to the girl in the casa de Cultura (who isn´t a lying bitch....) about the existence of the venta.
Tres Arcos was a welcome venue, and I have to add, excellent eating stop. The salad and fish were amazing. They didn´t even mind me taking off my odorous footwear for the duration of my visit. Finally fed and watered, I set off to meet Qt in the village which seemed close enough to spit at, yet took another two hours to reach.
The last few kilometres were very hard and I considered a taxi more than once, even a passing car would have possibly been flagged down for a lift. But in the absense of traffic I soldiered on, eventually realising how Santiago had known I was travelling. DURGH !!!! The back pack !!!! The walking poles !! But this did not explain the odd dialogue between us, nor the omen of the snake, which kept one eye on the kerb grass all day.
If you have ever travelled so far on foot, each step you will know, is very precious, yet very cruely spent. As I arrived at the end of my days walk, into the Plaza, where I saw Qt waiting quietly, tears filled my eyes with gratitude and love. Such heightened emotions are common on ´the way`. Fortunately for me, I had been able to listen to rousing music this past two hours. These wonders of technology not open to pilgrims of old. I have to say that normally, I don´t agree with spoiling the experience with too much outside influence. Though of course the Pelegrinos of times gone by, did not have Goretex and lightweight fabric for their loads. Neither, it has to be said, did they have all the other trappings of a modern pilgrimage at hand. They slept neath the stars and ate very simple, self prepared meals each day. They stopped when they wanted, and didn´t have to make it to the nearest safety stop or nice comfy Albergue. Unless this was a sign of my delerium, I may well be on my way to discovering the hardships, encountered by pilgrims from the past 17 centuries or so.
Qt was so pleased to see me too, and we soon discovered how lovely it was to have company once more.
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
ROADKILL
Setting off alone is quite a tough descision.. I have done it plenty of times before, on the road to Santiago, when I left the northern towns of Spàin, doing the 'Camino Frances'. Somehow this was very much more daunting. Having Qt for support had been a wonderful joy. Part of me of course was keen to set off and get back into my own rhythm. Another part of me feared the openness of the 30km walk I planned to complete this day. If we would have been on the normal camino route, then the towns and facilities would be closer and better catered for. This was however a very sparsly walked route, I was aware that some other people had walked from Tarifa before, by now hearing snippets of information pertaining to this. After two days of not walking, Qt's feet having needed time to heal, I was ready for the off, yet nervous, the ominous open clear skies, raining down yet more sunshine. Qt had made her descision to go on ahead by bus to Medina Sedonia, later that morning. I didn't blame her, after all she had not come on the Camino to begin her walk with huge open tracts of land, offering niether shelter nor refreshments. I agreed to see her later in the next hilltop town, knowing all too well it was going to be one hell of a tough walk for me. As straightforward as you could possibly hope for with a final climb inot the village, as had been my experience on arriving into Vejer. I had been very impressed by the small provincial town, set up high on the hill overlooking the Atlantic ocean, and the villages of Barbate and Zahara de los Atunes. Cadiz was clearly visible farther to the north, huge cranes in the marina obvious clues.
The atmosphere of this town had been very conducive towards my writing of the story so far, though of course I am only the mere scribe. But the story wanted to be written and so a tranquil setting like this was the perfect place. I hope that at some point in the future I might find myself back in Tres Mares, to complete and put all the finishing touches to the book, this place being paradise on earth. The Plaza de España in the older part of the town being one of the most lovely settings I have encountered, had become home to some of the writing hours thusfar.
So up at dawn, despite it being somewhat later at this time of the year, and off to see the new roads of Andalucia. A big sleepy hug from Qt to wish me luck, and I was away. Of course because we were travelling by different methods today, I utilized the fact that she was going by coach, and left her with my clothes to be washed, with the idea she might find a launderette and do some washing. Well at the very least I would gain the relief of this few extra kilos, for the journey, however, needing to carry extra water soon had the pack weight back to what it had been previously. I had no real idea of, if and where the opportunity to replenish supplies would come. But of course drinking it would eventually lessen the weight some. On other caminos, the information is well documented as to where all of the refilling points for water are, but as this is an uncommon route, nothing should be left to chance.
Talk about strange coincidences. I had recently given Qt, "The Alchemist", by Paulo Coelho. One of my most favourite novels about journeys and adventures. And here as I left the small town, I met with a man, who directed me towards a little known track out of the town. The path was only passable on foot and led down the hillside, cutting shorter the route via the access roads. it was a dusty old track at first, becoming a centuries old cobbled cart track, winding down the valley side.
In the book, "the Alchemist", a boy called Santiago, a shepherd in the Andalucian mountains, sets off in search of treasure, that he had dreamt of on several occasions. His simple life, suddenly becomes full of choices. And following his heart he sets off from Tarifa, to see the pyramids of Egypt. This was very much in my mind as I arrived in Tarifa myself some days ago. Though my adventure, one that I would be sharing in part with Qt, was to be setting off in completely the other direction, I none the less smiled at the significance it held for me.
As I left the smiling man, I met leaving the village, I had to remark how out of place he had seemed. His voice was tainted with and echo of the East, his Spanish as good, only as my own. But the twinkle in his eyes reminded me of the King of Salem. I pondered this briefly as I walked briskly away, convincing myself only of my furtive imagination. But as I rounded the bend at the bottom of the paved road, I turned, I couldn't get the feeling out of my mind. Sure enough the man had vanished. Even the bench upon which he had sat was gone. A gust of wind ruffled my hair, yet no trees showed similar air disturbance. If I had been asleep before, then I was wide awake now, and ready for anything. I sometimes lie to myself as well, and so when I heard the tinkling of bells, I assumed that it had all been a silly dream. Here was I walking to Santiago de Compostela, in the north west corner of Spain, some 1200km away, and already I was losing the plot.......
Along the track came a herd of goats, or they could have been sheep. I'm no great expert on livestock you should know ! Some black ones and little kids made up the collage. And blending into the midst of the small flock came the shepherd. A lean, medium height, older gentleman, with a huge wide eyed smile. I wanted to greet him with some witty comments, based on my previous rhetoric, but fought against such foolishness.
"Good morning young man". He greeted.
"I see you are off on your journey too". Came the follow up.
I was about to reply, when he added.
"Pay attention to the omens".
We stood only metres apart, sheep or goats milling around us everywhere, as I became temporarily speechless. In his eyes, I could realise a lifetime of his own travels to foreign shores and searches for treasure. I dared to believe that I was infact, face to face with one of my greatest heros. It seemed as though time had stood still, the sun moved nowhere and the song of the birds had ceased also. I was awash with a strange feeling of peace and tranquility. The man before me, the boy I knew from fables, kept his gaze upon me.
All of a sudden, the flock scattered, the silence was released and a snake was crossing the track just ahead of us. We smiled as the serpent slithered away, affraid of the goats no doubt.
"Santiago, I presume ?" Was my opener.
"Ah, you have heard of me then ? Well friend, go in peace and follow your dreams. And remember, where your heart is, your treasure will be also".
He said, waving me goodbye, as he set off up the track, not waiting for more conversation.
"Wait". I called after him. "What about Fatima ?"
He turned, still smiling broadly. Rubbing his chin with a pensive thought begging to take over.
"What about her ?" He responded.
"Well, did you return from your travels and marry her ?" I quizzed.
"Friend. Curiosity killed the cat. Ask only of the universe, what is really important to you. Fatima is, as Fatima is. You will meet your own Fatima, when you stop really searching and open your eyes to the life you were born to live".
His eyes widened with the beginings of a laugh.
"Look only for answers to the important things of life, then you will have your rewards".
And with a wave of his hand, he was gone and I was dismissed.
For a moment I was unable to move, riveted to the spot. The sound of his goats' bells, following him up the trail and away. Was I in a dream. Had I really met with, "The" Santiago, now an old man, still tending his flocks as carefully as ever ?
The atmosphere of this town had been very conducive towards my writing of the story so far, though of course I am only the mere scribe. But the story wanted to be written and so a tranquil setting like this was the perfect place. I hope that at some point in the future I might find myself back in Tres Mares, to complete and put all the finishing touches to the book, this place being paradise on earth. The Plaza de España in the older part of the town being one of the most lovely settings I have encountered, had become home to some of the writing hours thusfar.
So up at dawn, despite it being somewhat later at this time of the year, and off to see the new roads of Andalucia. A big sleepy hug from Qt to wish me luck, and I was away. Of course because we were travelling by different methods today, I utilized the fact that she was going by coach, and left her with my clothes to be washed, with the idea she might find a launderette and do some washing. Well at the very least I would gain the relief of this few extra kilos, for the journey, however, needing to carry extra water soon had the pack weight back to what it had been previously. I had no real idea of, if and where the opportunity to replenish supplies would come. But of course drinking it would eventually lessen the weight some. On other caminos, the information is well documented as to where all of the refilling points for water are, but as this is an uncommon route, nothing should be left to chance.
Talk about strange coincidences. I had recently given Qt, "The Alchemist", by Paulo Coelho. One of my most favourite novels about journeys and adventures. And here as I left the small town, I met with a man, who directed me towards a little known track out of the town. The path was only passable on foot and led down the hillside, cutting shorter the route via the access roads. it was a dusty old track at first, becoming a centuries old cobbled cart track, winding down the valley side.
In the book, "the Alchemist", a boy called Santiago, a shepherd in the Andalucian mountains, sets off in search of treasure, that he had dreamt of on several occasions. His simple life, suddenly becomes full of choices. And following his heart he sets off from Tarifa, to see the pyramids of Egypt. This was very much in my mind as I arrived in Tarifa myself some days ago. Though my adventure, one that I would be sharing in part with Qt, was to be setting off in completely the other direction, I none the less smiled at the significance it held for me.
As I left the smiling man, I met leaving the village, I had to remark how out of place he had seemed. His voice was tainted with and echo of the East, his Spanish as good, only as my own. But the twinkle in his eyes reminded me of the King of Salem. I pondered this briefly as I walked briskly away, convincing myself only of my furtive imagination. But as I rounded the bend at the bottom of the paved road, I turned, I couldn't get the feeling out of my mind. Sure enough the man had vanished. Even the bench upon which he had sat was gone. A gust of wind ruffled my hair, yet no trees showed similar air disturbance. If I had been asleep before, then I was wide awake now, and ready for anything. I sometimes lie to myself as well, and so when I heard the tinkling of bells, I assumed that it had all been a silly dream. Here was I walking to Santiago de Compostela, in the north west corner of Spain, some 1200km away, and already I was losing the plot.......
Along the track came a herd of goats, or they could have been sheep. I'm no great expert on livestock you should know ! Some black ones and little kids made up the collage. And blending into the midst of the small flock came the shepherd. A lean, medium height, older gentleman, with a huge wide eyed smile. I wanted to greet him with some witty comments, based on my previous rhetoric, but fought against such foolishness.
"Good morning young man". He greeted.
"I see you are off on your journey too". Came the follow up.
I was about to reply, when he added.
"Pay attention to the omens".
We stood only metres apart, sheep or goats milling around us everywhere, as I became temporarily speechless. In his eyes, I could realise a lifetime of his own travels to foreign shores and searches for treasure. I dared to believe that I was infact, face to face with one of my greatest heros. It seemed as though time had stood still, the sun moved nowhere and the song of the birds had ceased also. I was awash with a strange feeling of peace and tranquility. The man before me, the boy I knew from fables, kept his gaze upon me.
All of a sudden, the flock scattered, the silence was released and a snake was crossing the track just ahead of us. We smiled as the serpent slithered away, affraid of the goats no doubt.
"Santiago, I presume ?" Was my opener.
"Ah, you have heard of me then ? Well friend, go in peace and follow your dreams. And remember, where your heart is, your treasure will be also".
He said, waving me goodbye, as he set off up the track, not waiting for more conversation.
"Wait". I called after him. "What about Fatima ?"
He turned, still smiling broadly. Rubbing his chin with a pensive thought begging to take over.
"What about her ?" He responded.
"Well, did you return from your travels and marry her ?" I quizzed.
"Friend. Curiosity killed the cat. Ask only of the universe, what is really important to you. Fatima is, as Fatima is. You will meet your own Fatima, when you stop really searching and open your eyes to the life you were born to live".
His eyes widened with the beginings of a laugh.
"Look only for answers to the important things of life, then you will have your rewards".
And with a wave of his hand, he was gone and I was dismissed.
For a moment I was unable to move, riveted to the spot. The sound of his goats' bells, following him up the trail and away. Was I in a dream. Had I really met with, "The" Santiago, now an old man, still tending his flocks as carefully as ever ?
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