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In
July, the
night of the 25th to 26th we sleep, it is a manner of speaking, in El
Burgo Ranero. Lozano Inn is near a big pool. We understand during the
whole night the reason for the village name: Frogs in the pool keep us up
with an all night concert. In addition, we had just got into bed (it was
half past ten) when a man (a customer and friend of hers) came to see
Doña Mercedes. Said friend works, according to what he says, as an itinerant
melon seller. The thing is that his voice could be heard perfectly from the
first floor where our room is. The good man, as he usually did, apparently,
spoke
to Doña Mercedes as if he was advertising the Villaconejos’ fiesta.
Professional deformations of which no one is free. When the watermelon
seller says good-bye to the landlady and leaves, we can still hear the
frogs croaking all the more clearly. The frogs are still at it when we
leave the village at ten past six in the morning.
We should not do
it, but we do. I suppose that, taking into account how well we slept in El
Burgo Ranero, we thought that the proper thing was to arrive at Leon.
We start walking
the "modern path". By the way, this modern path goes towards
Mansilla de las Mulas parallel to a red soil track which is a lot wider than the path. Would it not have been more useful to make tracks in
areas lacking paths? You cannot always understand the decisions of those
in power. (Right and accurate as they may be.)
Paca crosses the bridge leaving
Mansilla de las Mulas...
We
have breakfast in Reliegos. In Mansilla we like crossing the town, the
bridge, the walls… Sun burns us.
We
meet Luz, the slow walking pilgrim, she is carrying a lot of plastic bags
and a stick with a small Spanish flag on its top. We greet each other, then
each one on their own. Walking.
The
arrival at Leon is endless. We stop in Puente de Villarente so as to have a
snack, there we find a Catalan pilgrim in a hippie dress, she is as fresh as
a daisy. She is one of those that cheats in a natural way. We stop again and
stamp our credentials in Arcahueja, in the café-bar La Torre.
Salva arriving at
León, dog tired...
We go
down the Alto del Portillo among cars, bikes and lorries that go up as if
this were the Jarama circuit. When we arrive at the first houses we must sit
down on a bench, we are almost faint with exhaustion. Finally, we cross the
bridge on Torio River. We go through Leon until we reach San Marcos Hostal.
We lodge near Don Suero Hostal. It is quarter past three when we arrive: We
are dog tired.
We go
to the center in the evening and we visit the "wet district" too.
We sit down in a terrace in the street, now a pedestrian area, which goes up
towards the cathedral from San Marcelo square. We nearly break the chairs* (when
we slump into them we are absolutely knackered). We comment on the small
number of pilgrims we saw between Burgos and Leon (we mean walking pilgrims,
because we saw a lot of them drinking in bars). For instance, if we
specifically speak about today’s trek, Paca and I only saw two pilgrims
between Burgo Ranero and Mansilla de las Mulas and another two between
Mansilla and Leon. Speaking of the Xacobea cycling tour, about thirty
cyclists overtook us, most of them riding on the path instead of on the very
nice soil track that runs parallel to it. We are speaking about this things
when suddenly, "Look at them, Paca, look!" They are the Brazilian
Sumo wrestler and his maid. They calmly walk along the pedestrian area.
"How could they have arrived here, Paca?" I said in astonishment,
lured by what I thought a vision. "Obviously by bus, Salva, or are you
a fool?" said Paca who, unlike me, is logical. So, there they were.
We
ate in the Don Suero Hotal restaurant just what they wanted to serve
us, because it was almost four o’clock when we entered the restaurant (It was
almost four o’clock p.m., when we finished washing up). We phoned Ramiro
from the hostal. Paca and I, after having a long rest, decided to reward
ourselves with a good dinner in the restaurant Casa Pozo. What a bright
idea!
Stage 18  Stage 19 |