Day 10 Burgos to Hontanas

Burgos Cathedral

Aside from its girly bars, Burgos has a claim to fame as the Gothic capital of Spain, epitomised by its cathedral. Don’t get me wrong – the elaborate Flemish workmanship is stupendous. It was just that on the first section of the audio guide, it was mentioned that in 1097 they demolished the Romanesque cathedral to make room for the current creation. From that point on, alll I could think of as I wondered from gilded chapel to ornate sacristy was what did the original cathedral – no doubt with thick brooding columns and beak head carving – look like.

It was actually not a great morning. I had left the Hotel Las Vegas after a singularly bad breakfast to see, as I trudged through 3 miles of light engineering plants, that the temperature was a bracing 4 degrees. Now I think I cut quite a dash as the authentic pilgrim. I’m in shorts, with thick black socks and muddy shoes, a rainproof coat, two walking poles and, yes, a hat. Now I think the hat – a Tilley hat – is rather smart. A fellow pilgrim from Korea however punctured my self-belief by saying “good cowboy hat!”

I stood at a traffic light and caught my reflection in a big pane of glass in the shop front opposite the lights. Next to me was a cross-section of the sort of people you will find in any sophisticated European city: smartly dressed businessmen in suits, power-dressed executive women, a couple of workmen in dungarees and an elderly couple dressed up in hats and scarves against the cold. The slightly discordant chap in this picture was yours truly, the cowboy in shorts. To complete the picture, I had stuffed my quick dry shirt onto the outside of my rucksack as it had failed to dry overnight. All I really needed to compete the picture was a can of Carling Special Brew and Monty attached to me with a piece of string. A couple of Big Issues wouldn’t have gone amiss either.

All in all I was glad to leave Burgos. If you’ve seen the film “The Way”, you’ll know that it was in Burgos that Martin Sheen’s rucksack gets stolen. Of course an honest gypsy father is horrified that his son would steal anything and the rucksack is returned. Completely credible. What isn’t the least bit credible is that the gypsy lad would have been able to out-run his pursuers carrying a rucksack. Some kid tries to nick my rucksack – well I’m going to be impressed if he can lurch 10 yards with it before I’m resetting his views on keeping the eighth commandment.

I picked up with a nice German lady who is going as far as Fromista. A solo pilgrim, she was happy to have some company through the rougher suburbs of Burgos. We lunched in a small village and then walked up onto the Meseta and were soon in a different world. At a church in one village we found the same small Korean lady who had commented on my hat. Speaking virtually no English or Spanish (but she did know “cowboy hat”) she seemed confused and a bit worried. I invited her to walk with us which slowed me down horribly but she was a sweet thing and I couldn’t have left her where she was. We all took each others photos in the bleak Meseta and I left the two ladies in the village of Hornillos. I, for some mad reason, decided to push on another 6 miles to Hontanas. You can see why people get into trouble on this walk. It was getting late, the temperature plummeted and I was still a few km from Hontanas. Then, amazingly as I was sure I was the last pilgrim on the trail, up behind me strode a young German. He had just finished his masters in machine engineering (is there no end to the stereotyping on the Camino?) and was heading to Hontanas because he wanted to sleep in the church porch. No heat, no water, no light but it would be an experience. His wonderful joie de vivre inspired me and I made my way down to the albuergue in Hontanas.

Man in cowboy hat

Below is my luxurious room at the Albergue. I think I have reached that point where I have done enough pilgrim-like behaviour and am going to find something nice for tomorrow.

At least it’s not a bunk bed

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