Rural Galicia

October 15
The hoped-for better weather does not greet us when we wake.  Fog and mist shroud us as we walk to the village to find an open bar.  There is only one establishment open and it is quite crowded.  However, it is still too dark to resume the Camino (sunrise has come later and later as we've been traveling), so we join the harassed bustle inside the rather small space.  Because it is wet outside, backpacks and poles crowd the corner by the door.  Some of these are waiting to be picked up and transported ahead of their associated pilgrims.  In fact, quite a few people are on phones making arrangements for their bags or taxis for themselves.  The weather has dampened spirits too--there are a lot of grumpy people, including the woman working the bar.  Although we really aren't looking forward with enthusiasm to leaving (at least it's warm and dry in the bar), it's eventually time to start walking.  The map for today is only 21.3 km so we plan to tackle some of the next map as well.

By the way, we are in the autonomous region of Galicia now.  I have not read about the region, but it has either obvious Celtic roots or has been influenced by the Celts.  We notice some different words and spellings in the language here.  Celtic music can be heard playing in bars and stores.  Many place names begin with O'--at least on some signage and maps.  I recognize Celtic symbols and knotwork in the art, on architectural features, etc.  It is something I want to follow up on when I get home.

Brierly has this to say about the area we will traverse: "This is rural Galicia at her best; wet and green with the sweet smell and squelch of liquid cow dung underfoot."  It definitely describes what we experience today.  Cows, and roosters, everywhere; and the path seems to wind through farms such that the path is a minefield of cow patties.  It's hard to tell if the Camino path usurped lanes connecting farms to their grazing fields or vice versa.

A pilgrim monument is visible through the fog.

The fog burns off by late morning and it sprinkles a couple of times.  It seems, though, that the better (notice I am not saying "good") weather I prayed for has arrived.  Although cool and mostly overcast, it is dry.  And the ground is in much better condition than we would have expected after so much rain.  Which is good, but it takes long enough to pick our way around rocks, puddles, patties, and mud.

As we approach the town of Biduedo, the last opportunity for lunch before the top of the page, a farmer, his wife, and their German shepherd are driving a herd of cows right up the path we're on.  I'm close enough to a clearing in front of a bar to step out of the way, but Jerri has to plow through them.  The German shepherd barks and snaps at any cow that steps out of line.  One takes exception and starts to charge toward the dog--and me--with its head and horns lowered.  Thank goodness the farmer calls the dog off and the cow is content to get back in line.  Otherwise Jim might have received an email saying "Karen gored on the trail.  We are back at the hospital in Pamplona."

"Objects in camera are larger than they appear."  The cows are about my shoulder-height.  I think of taking a photo of Jerri and the cows, too, but I am distracted by the hubbub coming my way.

This seems like the perfect time for a lunch break at the bar right in front of us.  Inside, a fire is burning and I choose the chair right next to it, to warm up as well as fill up to go back out again.