West end of cathedral by the dawn’s early light

On the road again!

(Burgos to Hornillos del Camino: 22 km, 6 1/4 hours–about 30,500 steps plus 2500 later)

Matthew 7:13-14

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But narrow is the gate and difficult the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”

Maurice and I talked about this verse on the walk out of Roncesvalles. The path was narrow and rocky and the difficulty was only increased by cyclists who appeared silently behind us, antsy to pass. Such is the road to eternal life, Jesus tells us. Hard. Constricted. But it goes somewhere worth going, and not everyone finds it. Thank you, Jesus, that you walk this road with us. Thank you that you are the road.

Through the park and out of town

***************************

Today I am wearing both new shoes, with extra padding on my left heel and in the shoe. We were out at 8:15 for our walk all the way back past the cathedral and out the far end of the city. We did not stop at the famous lovely monastery (fortunately it wasn’t open so I couldn’t agonize) but we stopped for Maurice’s coffee, a raqueta pastry and the WC at the last pasteleria in town.

We walked steadily and stopped for lunch in Rabe de la Calzadas. Then began the meseta, the wide shadeless grain-growing plateau in the middle of Spain, and we went up, of course. The one grove of trees in an eight-kilometer stretch was so noteworthy as to be marked in our guidebook. Mostly we walked through undulating fields already harvested or full of dead sunflowers, dotted with hay bales or new green growth or white stones. And flies! There were rolling fields in all directions for them to buzz in and instead they hovered around our faces and landed on our arms.

We trudged up to the day’s alto of 950 meters then headed down Cuesta Matamulas, Mule Killer Hill. The stony path seemed extra hard today. I wondered aloud if the soles of my new shoes were less sturdy than the old ones but Maurice said the bottoms of his feet hurt too. But our backpacks seemed lighter. My friend Michele commented that she had been praying Isaiah 40:31 for us, that we would “soar on wings like eagles” and “walk and not be faint.” Good praying! I think a few eagles were pulling up the load from above.

From the alto the town looked deceptively close. We kept walking and arrived in Hornillos del Camino before 2:30, claiming our spot at the Meeting Point Albergue, recently opened and well-planned.

The solid bunks had a safe ladder up to the top and the bottom bunk had enough head room to actually sit up straight on the edge of it. Each bed had a closet for the backpack, a flexible reading lamp and a conveniently placed electrical outlet. The striped sheet looked so nice I didn’t even put my personal one over top of it. (Such a nice bunk room and I forgot to take a picture of it.) Outside was a walled yard lined with flowers, tables and chairs on the grass and clotheslines in the sun.

The Polish bikers’ chef chopping vegetables while the laundry dries

Dinner was served at a long table in a glass-enclosed airway between the boot racks and the sparse kitchen-laundry room. We had salad, meat and vegetable paella (full of artichokes!) and dishes of lemon cream for dessert–all delicious.

This albergue was definitely a winner. As we fell asleep on our cozy bunks, we heard the ten biking Poles, who were traveling with their own fat chef, downstairs laughing late into the night.

Maurice told me he lost his RoadID…again. “You’ll find it in a pocket,” I said, “just like you did last time.” He grinned his adorable little grin. “I left it in the laundry supply bag in Belorado,” he said. Whoops.