Day Sixteen: The Meseta Begins
Our walk this morning was one of the shortest distances on the camino to Hornillos. Many pilgrims walk an additional 10km or so to a more popular pilgrim town but we elected to stick with the book since I couldn't get my bag picked up and all our Burgos touring did a number on my knee.
We were slow moving and if I'm being honest, I was being a difficult walking buddy. Attitude. It is quite frustrating to not have the ability to walk normally. My muscles weren't sore and I wasn't tired, but the pain in my knee felt as though my knee cap had been hit with a bat. Not the muscle, but deep within the bone. Such an odd and terribly nagging pain. By our lunch spot we had already dreamed up more than a dozen alternative adventures to the camino- Greece, Cinque Terra, Thailand- you name it. We sat at our truck stop weighing our options over individual pan pizzas and sodas. Then coffees. Then on we went.
We entered the meseta for the first time today. It's known on the camino as soulless, endless, flat and has the ability to try your mental patience. Excellent. We actually found it to be quite beautiful. No one was around. No cars. No cement. Just rocky, natural paths with tall grass and sky surrounding us. Kind of like in Gladiator when Russell Crow dreams of his family and their farm. Actually, just like that.
The cold and the wind really picked up on the meseta. The gusts were so strong that they would push me to the sides of the road and back again. We were extra slow moving. My achilles hadn't been an issue for a few days until we were coming up a fairly steep and rocky hill today. The pain was sharp and shocking. I had to finish the walk into Hornillos with my shoe untied and my heel sitting outside of the boot to relieve pressure. Thank god it was a short day.
There was only one albergue in Hornillos open, which was in the basement of the church. When we descended into the living quarters we were greeted by Jim and Frances who we met in Ages. This time we also met Jim's wife Roberta. To our surprise Charles (from Texas) and Bianca (from South Africa) were also there. We had briefly met them in Pamplona. They're closer to our age. We swapped stories, aided our blistered feet and Frances made me a warm foot bath for my ankle. We then made our way to the only restaurant in town for dinner at 6pm to find that no one was there. We waited a while until we learned the owner had gone into Burgos for the evening for a family emergency. No restaurant meant no food. No dinner. Shit.
After a bit of panic and frustration from a group of tired and hungry pilgrims, we got resourceful. Everyone pooled their food reserves and we created a makeshift dinner of bread, Oreos, an orange, nuts and chocolate bars. The albergue was so cold, we were out of food and pretty much exhausted so the whole group was in bed by 8pm and asleep by 8:30pm.
And then the snoring ensued. Oh Frances, why must I always share a bunk room with you?
