Day 29

They walked toward me, their burley, bearded, steadfast looks appeared at first glance to be threatening. When my “Hola” was returned by all three, I knew they weren’t there to defend the longest medieval bridge in Spain. They may not even have known this fact, as ‘Bikers’ conventions, I imagine, would not have a history component and this is what we walked into as we crossed the bridge that he successfully defended against three hundred knights (one at a time). His name was Don Suero de Quinones and after being scorned by a beautiful maiden defended the bridge, freeing himself from the bonds of love and regaining his honour.

Hospital de Ortigo is not only friendly with bikers but also very pilgrim friendly. We were given a guided tour of our new lodgings, the senora letting us know how all the modern appliances worked and other various instructions. We had dinner elsewhere with our Canadian friends discussing political structures, forest preservation and foot rejuvenation.

We left town on our own and it remained that way for 5kms until our breakfast village, once again the only ones on the street, a feeling we are getting to cherish. The road leaving the village cut a farm in two as we poled up into the hills followed by the climbing sun. As we climbed to the top, mountains came into view to our north, their sheets of snow glimmering in the sunshine. Soon it was down a rocky road to a valley spotted with clumps of tall poplars whose leaf-bells jangled in the wind as a small stream hastened in between them. Our self interest was broken as an American passed us on the uphill part, still reflecting on why he is walking this marathon. The mountains closed in on us once more as we passed a lean-to cafe against a pile of ruins. It was then downhill into Astorga, home to a Gaudi palace, and on to Murias de Rechivaldo where our grape covered courtyard ushered us in for a rest beneath the beams, while the stork slept beneath the stars

THe path

The jangling leaves

Gaudi

Single bed