Oofta.

What a glorious, treacherous, beautiful, glumdiddly* day!

*Not formerly a real word, but it encompassed my feelings. Welcome to the English language, glumdiddly!

We awoke early, knowing we had 27 km and 430 m of elevation gain to conquer. Every night thus far we’ve filled our canteens at the albergue (pilgrim hostel) we’ve stayed in, but last nights accommodations noted that the water was non-potable. No problem! We’d fill up at the fountain in town, one of many we’d seen. We left the albergue by the light of our headlamps and the stars before 7, only to find an etching on the fountain of a drinking glass with a slash through it (this was after Jess taste tested a small amount; thankful for still-happy gut!). We stood in disbelief for a bit until a young Dutch couple passed by, and we were able to ask where they had procured their water. They graciously led us to a farm shed with a tap, but the door was locked. Thankfully, the bar (bars and cafes in Spain are essentially synonymous) opened at 730, we filled our jugs, and were on our way.

The Los Hospitales route has no towns along its 26 km stretch, so we had to bring all our food and water. Julia and I both felt the extra weight of our packs as we started the loooooong upward climb, quickly rewarded with panoramic views of the Asturian countryside.

It was breathtaking (even though my breath was already coming in heaves).

We both stopped to take photos of the mountain views every 1/4 km or so, grinning at one another in awe. The majority of my photos are on my camera and inaccessible on my phone; feel free to wait with bated breath for photos of what left me breathless.

We battled rock-strewn paths, cows, slugs, steep ascents, brisk wind (I’d guess about 45° windchill), and intermittent rain and fog. The bits of sunshine were very happily received, particularly while we picnicked among the ruins of one of four hospitals for which this route was named.

Then came the quad-burning descent.

One Italian man, appearing to be about 75 years old, commented that this was the “Camino dall’inferno” as we trudged ever downward through the rocky scree, which also had a hunger for trekking pole rubber tips (lost one, found another’s).

We finally reached our somewhat level elevation and hiked the remaining 8 km in mud and through pine forest, finally arriving at the albergue in driving rain and wind; never before have I been so happy to find two empty beds 🙂

Our evening concluded with a Menu Peregrino 3-course meal, a table seating four: peregrinos from the USA, Germany, France, and Taiwan. Four careers, three decades of age, four countries, three continents; one Camino. We talked until the waitress asked us to clear the table, discussing wishes and dreams and religion and values.

How neat it will be to share such varied seating arrangements in Heaven!