Hobbling to Hornillos

Skipping ahead again. Last week, got to Burgos, and decided to spend a couple of days there. It´s a major cultural city for Spain, full of monments, history, and of course, the cathedral. There is a small alburgue, but when I get there, I find that they are only taking people over 55, or who have health problems, and who have walked. I took a bus a small distance because I was not well prepared to walk in the rain, and there were thunderstorms. So...I find a small hostal not too far from the cathedral. The manager, Elena, is very kind and even offers to wash my clothes. Wow! So, thus fortified, I wander Burgos for a couple of days. I find Doro, the young German girl I met on my first day climbing UP, and it is great to see her. Also, we encounter Rita, who had left to walk in the rain the day before, and had had some heart palpitations and had gotten a ride. Astoundingly, the alburgue refuses to let her stay because she did not walk (even though she is 71!!!), so I lead them both to my hostal, and they share a room for 40 Euros. Bless Elena! It works out as Rita speaks no Spanish and very little English, and I feel better that she is with Doro.

We do touristy things, ride the little train around the town, to the top where the castle is, with a lovely view of the whole town. We find our yellow arrows that will lead us out the next day, and then, the following morning, we meet at the Cathedral to go. Rita will take a bus to Leon, to continue her walk further along, and Doro and I will walk on, her to Hornillos, and me to Rabe La Calzada, where I hope to stay in the alburgue. I think 12 K is not too far to walk, and I have rested my feet for 2 days, so hope they will do better. When we get to a rise behind the cathedral, Rita stops us to read a prayer that she wrote in German before she left. Ingeborg had translated it for me one day in Puente la Reina and it is beautiful. Rita likes to read it every day when we leave, after finding the right place, usually with a view of the countryside. Afterwards, Doro and I say good bye, and we follow our way out of the city guided by the yellow arrows and Camino shells.

Shortly, the 2nd toe on my left foot acts up. It´s been doing this regularly. It feels as if a blister is starting, but I know that if I stop, add some more foot creme, and put my sock back on, it will be ok. I tell Doro to go on, and I´ll just follow. In a few minutes all is fine, and I´m walking out of the city, into an agricultural area. Everywhere we have been there is new construction, even in the smallest little towns. I´m not sure, but it´s possible that the explosion of pilgrims has also brought new business and dwellers to Spain. I wonder if that´s good or bad, and keep walking. At one point, a lady on a bicylce stops and asks if she can walk with me for a while. I say all right, even though at that point, I would rather be alone. But she walks along, and asks if I speak Spanish, and if so, would I like to practice. Again, all right, even though at the moment it´s hard to think of present, past, preterite tenses, etc., when I´m trying to do the pilgrim contemplation thing. But she is a nice woman, pleasant, and I don´t want to offend her, and it is a valuable opportunity. She tells me that she knows the woman who runs the alburgue in Rabe de la Calzada, where I hope to stay. That´s encouraging. We chat for a bit, then get to a bridge over the highway, and she leaves me, with a kiss on both cheeks. I walk on. Soon, I am in Tardajos, the first stop, and Doro is waiting at the cafe. I order a Coke. Doro has had the same kind of bites that I had at first, only hers are on her face and neck, and mine were on my back and arms. We drink our cokes and wait for the pharmacy to open and she buys some cream for the bites. We go on to Rabe la Calzada, and I say good bye, as she is going to do the 20 K to Hornillos and I plan to stop here. Already my feet are hurting, and I am looking forward to the alburgue. So, I wander into this silent little town. I see signs to the alburgue, but can´t seem to exactly find it. My guidebooks says there are 2, and I´m looking for the private one. Finally, I ask a construction guy. No, where I´m looking is not it, it´s over here he points. So, I go there, find the sign, and go to the door. There´s a sign that says "Cerrado por ...." I don´t have the word at the moment, but the general idea is that it´s closed for fumigation or dealing with pests or something. The sign says either go back to Tardajos (2 km), or ahead to Hornillos (8 km). Well, let me tell you, when you´re on the Camino, going back is just something you do not want to do. Even though it´s longer, I decide to go ahead to Hornillos, but first I change my socks, hoping that will help my feet. My right foot has a horrid burning pain every time I put weight on it. I fear a blister, but every time I check it, it´s ok as far as the skin goes. But when I press just under the base of my 2nd and 3rd toes, I nearly go through the roof. Great. But, the bed is in Hornillos, so on I go. As I leave town, I see Doro sitting under a big cottonwood tree. Yes, they have cottonwoods in Spain! "What are you doing?" she asks. I tell her the alburgue is closed so I will go to Hornillos. But first, we have a short siesta under the tree in the shade. I put my feet up, hoping it will help, but when we get going again, they are no better. She walks on and I follow, slowly, trying to avoid rocks again. It´s getting hotter, and I´m drinking a lot. As the time goes on, I walk slower and slower, my foot hurting more and more. I made the first 12 K in about 3 hours, but this last 8 is taking a long time. I try not to think about the pain, try only to concentrate on putting my feet on the flattest places on the road, but they just HURT. I walk on. After a while, I realize I have not eaten anything since breakfast, and that´s not good. So I stop for some dried fruit, chocolate, nuts, and more water. I have drunk nearly 2 liters of liquid this day. But the heat and pain are taking it out of me. I hobble on, favoring my right foot, walking kind of on the side. At one point, a Spanish couple comes upon me. The man asks how I am. I tell him not so good, much pain in the foot. Turns out he´s a doctor. He asks if it´s blisters. I say no, just pain when I put my foot down. I tell him I rested in Burgos for 2 days, things seemed ok this morning, but now, awful. There isn´t anything he can do, but I ask him to let them know in Hornillos that I´m coming. I seem to always be telling someone I´m coming! They say no problem, they will arrange it, and walk happily on. I see them look back at me a couple of times as they get further and further away. Finally, I have to sit again, and find a rock in the small shade of a bush. This is farm country, so not many trees now. I put on my old sock, now dried out, hoping it might be softer or something. For a few minutes it´s a little better, but then back to the same old pain. I walk on. Finally, I reach the downhill slope that my little guidebook described as going into Hornillos, and I can see the town below. The end is at least in sight. Carefully, carefully, I pick my way down the rocky slope. And then, my "good" leg, the left, begins to want to collapse on me. It just wants to give out. No, no no! I go slower, very careful as to where I put each foot. I CANNOT fall on this slope, there´d be no way I´d get up. At last, I´m down, and walking on flat ground. I see four elderly Spanish women from the town coming towards me, out for their afternoon stroll. I greet them, and they walk on. So do I. Slowly. A bit later, they turn around and overtake me on the way back. They ask after me. Yes, I´m ok, just have very painful feet. Ooooh, they all commiserate. Sympathy for sore feet is universal. They past me going back to the town. I hobble on. Finally, I cross the highway onto paved road, and see Doro waiting at the edge of town. God bless her. I get to her and she gives me a cold Coke. She says the Spanish lady was in panic over me, very dramatic. I tell her I´m OK, just my feet are killing me and I don´t know why. Slowly we walk into the town. There, on a bench all in a row, are the four Spanish ladies, apparently waiting for me. They call out and wave as I come up. I wave and smile and nod. I´m here, I´m ok, just my feet still hurt. After I pass, they all get up and move on to their respective homes. The neighborhood watch, I suppose! Then, I am at the plaza in front of the alburgue, and the Spanish couple is there, and also several other pilgrims I have met along the Way. It´s soo good to see familiar faces, even if you´ve only met for a few minutes. It seems like old home week. The doctor immediately comes over and wants to see my foot. I take off my boot and show him. There´s an inflammed spot on the ball of my right foot, and everyone says it´s a blister, but I show them it´s not. Then he presses on it, pressing down with thumb and finger on the top and bottom of my foot at the same time. I come out of the chair. He shakes his head. "Muy dificile" he says. He suggests I should not walk more than 5 or 7 Km per day. That is problematic since most places are further apart than that, and I have no guarantee, as shown today, that places will even be available. It seems I have a decision to make. But first, it´s time for the after walk routine, and I need a bed and a shower. When I go to sign in at the alburgue, I find that the Spanish couple, Ostabio and Ami, have made sure that the lady gives me a bottom bunk. God bless them. I drop the pack and collapse onto it. Later, I´ll think about tomorrow, Scarlett.

Love and blessings to you all....

Crone