Wish I had more to say, but it is much of the same. The weather in London is foul, here it is delightful. There are a lot of tourists and few familiar faces. There are fewer facilities than earlier on the Camino. Prices are about 30% higher than Navarre, and food quality lower. The landscape is much the same as the last 30-odd days.
I started out at 0530 and arrived at 1345 after two relatively long breaks for coffee. The heat picked up quite quickly, making the going much harder from 0900 onwards. It’s not perspiration or physical, muscular effort, per se, it’s heat and pain in the feet. Discomfort. Both increase very quickly to produce hot spots and numb patches. Take the boots off for 15-30 minutes and they’re gone and I’m good for another 10-14km, the same again. Weird.
The pictures say more than words today (you’ll thank me for that)… except that they don’t capture the pervasive stink of manure and cattle-farming that has accompanied me for the last 200km or so.
I don’t know anything about cattle farming (milkers or beef for slaughter) but I do see a stark contrast here: cows freely grazing outside and cows trapped inside, in dank conditions, kneeling down or bent over on hard concrete with their necks and heads held in heavy grating (like an old-fashioned “pillory”), and food in a trough in front of them. I’m not really a bleeding heart about these things, but repeated sightings of the latter have made me increasingly uncomfortable and a bit sad. These beasts hardly look happy. Then again, how am I qualified to evaluate their happiness?
Today’s albergue is an anomaly. I was attracted to it because of the whimsical description in a couple of the books/websites, but it is basic. BASIC. On reflection, a bad decision.
It’s €6 per night (that is NOT the driver for me) but it is like a mini-commune/squat. You turn up to the “office” and read the instructions.: “Take any free bed. Come back here at 1900-1930 to pay”. So, I did.
The loos are basic. Paper, yes. Lighting, no.
The shower (strong, emphatic singular): basic (and sloshing in water from prior use) and a year-round arrowslit for light and ventilation.
There is a bar. Basic, and staffed by what I’m guessing is an over-weight, single-mother who is downright surly.
You can do laundry – by hand. Yay! Basic (let’s see how many of my clothes pegs are ‘liberated’ by the gyppos).
I’m an Adam Smith/John Hume fan of property rights, but this is quite different to anything I’ve seen so far. I’m simultaneously intrigued and fearful.
At 1500, the place was ~25% full. Since then I’ve seen a lot of hippie and gyppo-types looking for the place. I envisage a noisy, smelly night, but I am near a window (though too high and not big enough to escape through). There are only a couple of working power points to charge devices with. It’s 1800 now, and they continue to stream in…
Ah well, my last night in an albergue, so suffering must be good for the soul – and will teach me to spend the extra €34 in future…
I’ve depleted my supply of lavender essential oil, but in the “take what you need, leave what you don’t” basket in the previous albergue, I found tea tree essential oil. It’s a much more iodine and clinical scent than lavender, but it will be my antidote tonight.
Finisterre tomorrow. It’s about 33km to Finisterre, and a further 3.5km to the fabled lighthouse at the top of Monte Facho. Temperature here is 28ºC rising to 30ºC tomorrow. Finisterre, on the coast, will be 28ºC tomorrow falling to 22ºC on Tuesday (grr…). Muxia hasn’t made it onto the weather app but is ~28km north of Finisterre so should be about the same.
Finisterre lies 42.8848° N, 9.2717° W (42°52’57”N, 9°16’20”W). It was long believed to be the most westerly point in Europe, but Cabo de Rocca in Portugal is 16.5km further west (38°46’51”N, 9°30’2”W). Despite this, it remains a whimsical, romantic, cathartic “go-to” destination for Pilgrims and other tourist suckers.
I have but two days of hiking left. It’s all passed so quickly. So much pent-up invective still to release…
Manaña.
So much pent-up invective still to release… Doris, you lucky girl. They’re making good whiskey in Brittany … you might want to stock up in Lyon.
Robin,
That is excellent advice. I think I’ll make sure Des gets the brandy (although no need for quality). That way Des will, hopefully, pass out and I will avoid the hangover. Well, that’s the plan, at least.
Besos,
Doris