Day 20 - May 27th: Carol Hall

Tardajos to San Juan de Ortega: 25.56 miles / Total: 477

Before diving into today's journey, I encourage you to watch my interview with Carol Hall. After speaking with her, any lingering pain seemed to vanish. When we finished and I started going in the opposite direction, she yelled back good-naturedly, “Thanks for doing the interview going uphill!” I don’t know how, but she wasn’t breaking a sweat.

Now, onto the day's events. Christina once again showcased her logistical prowess by securing us an apartment in Tardajos, a quaint town on Burgos's outskirts. This duplex featured an upstairs master bedroom and, downstairs, a garden, kitchenette, and a children's room with two single beds. Christina negotiated with the proprietor for just the downstairs at half the price. At this point, we're accustomed to the children's beds, and Jax prefers his spot on the floor between us. The added bonuses? A washer for leisurely laundry and the tranquility of having the place to ourselves.

Yesterday's concern was a sharp, stabbing pain in my shin during a steep uphill climb on the final stretch of our 40k stage. It brought immediate nausea that made me double over. I stopped, regrouped and it felt fine again. Ditto on the way down. And again it felt fine after a minute. I survived to make it back to the apartment where I followed the same routine I have for the past week of ice, elevation and meds after wearing the compression socks. After icing, I noticed two new black and blue marks in the area. Coincidence after the two jabs of pain? Or, is this just something that happens to 61 year old senior citizens like me - random bruises and broken blood vessels? 

At 5 AM, the birds heralded a new day, with the sun rising two hours later. Before getting out of bed, I checked my shin—it wasn't worse, and the bone pain was diminishing. Doug inquired about the discipline required to rise early. After two weeks, my routine is ingrained; each segment of the day's mission feels as automatic as brushing my teeth. No effort required, little thinking, just action.

Within 10 km of our departure, I encountered Andrea and her daughters, Isabella and Hannah, emerging from Burgos. Despite this being their first Camino, they radiated positivity, even after enduring the Pyrenees. Their commitment to the entire French Way over two months is inspiring. A side note: apologies to Hannah for Jax's humping during our interview. Awkward!

Navigating into Burgos involved weaving alongside a major highway, utilizing underpasses to switch sides. Burgos stands as the largest city we've traversed on the Camino. On a park bench, I met Paul Garland, a weathered man in his 60s with striking blue eyes. Residing in a rented room in Sahagún, he's undertaken the Camino numerous times. As I approached, he was hand-rolling a cigarette and exclaimed, “Did you see and speak with Carol Hall?” He told me she’s a legend on the Camino, sharing a story about how one year the police tried to remove her from a road in the Pyrenees where she was sliding down on her bum. She refused assistance and their trying to remove her.

Jax and I popped into the Burgos Cathedral, a Gothic masterpiece and a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1984. Construction began in 1221 under King Ferdinand III. Inside, it houses the tomb of El Cid and his wife Doña Jimena, the Golden Staircase by Diego de Siloé, and the Chapel of the Constable.

On my way out of Burgos, I paused for a café con leche and indulged in an obus—a local deep-fried, cream-filled pastry. Delicious!

The subsequent 5 km along the river were enchanting. Bike paths, walking trails, and dog meadows lined both sides as the river cascaded through multiple waterfalls. Locals were out in droves, enjoying the sunshine. With the faux snow from the cottonwood trees drifting down, it felt like stepping into a snow globe.

The day's heat intensified, making the undulating agricultural plains challenging, especially for Jax. He sought out every patch of mud or shade under bushes, catching up with me afterward.

After 30 km, the terrain shifted, signaling the initial ripples of the Pyrenees, still 150 km away. A steep, rocky ascent out of Atapuerca was followed by a descent, then another climb leading to the plateau housing San Juan de Ortega—our destination for the day.

At the summit, we encountered a pasture with a few horses. Jax, on his leash, behaved admirably. Once we moved away, I let him off-leash, as per our usual routine. Spotting two calves ahead, I hesitated. Jax ran. The calves raised the alarm, and in no time mom and dad came running—then another five, then twenty. Jax was chasing them all. Somehow, the big cows weren’t able to stomp or gore him. Then a cattle dog came out of nowhere and joined the chase. It looked like a cyclone. I yelled “Come!” but the adrenaline had drowned out any command. I figured my best shot was to move away. That’s when I heard a yelp—not from Jax, but from the cattle dog, which had been stomped by a bull. Very scary experience, underscoring the need for more training than his civilized encounter a few days ago with the penned cattle. Or, perhaps serving as a lesson for Jax if it scared him as much as it scared me.

The last few kilometer took us through the Montes de Oca which is known sfor its dense forests of pine. In the old days, it was a haven for bandits!

We finished in the quaint little village of San Juan de Ortega and whose Monastery which serves as the center of it was founded in the 12th century.

I covered nearly a marathon distance today with no stabs of pain on the difficult day and no residual pain from yesterday.

Arrow is pointing up.

Thanks for following along.

Cheers,
David

P.S. Happy birthday Bob, aka “Lantern Rouge”. I will miss breaking bread and toasting the upcoming year with you.