OK, time to get serious

Aged eight weeks my boys are now old enough to fly the nest. I have given them wings and now they need to find new homes. You can see my post here describing how I came to care for these tiny bundles of fluff, who have now grown to be slightly larger bundles of fluff.

from this on 28 November

from this on 28 November

to this, 28 December

to this, 28 December

Despite being dumped in the rubbish bins in Competa at the age (according to the vet who examined them) of between 3-4 weeks, they instantly settled in with us here, even though there weren’t entirely welcomed by Roly and Sheba. They are an absolute delight, full of fun, entirely socialised, very affectionate, but happy to fend for themselves when necessary. We have tested them on a couple of visiting children and they behaved beautifully, lapping up all the attention, and they are obviously used to our dog and cat (although the reverse isn’t true!). Over the last couple of days we have been introducing them to the great outdoors and they love romping around on the terrace, playing with pine cones and wind-fall oranges.

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I am not an expert, but would anticipate these two growing to be of short and stocky stature, with thick coats and curly tails. They are very bright (I sound just like a proud parent!) and having watched Roly and Sheba coming and going via the cat flap, learned in just one session how to follow suit. I am hopeful that they will soon be taking themselves into the garden to ‘do their business’ (that will save a lot of newspapers – David and I have been going around the village surreptitiously collecting copious numbers of the give-away rags over the last four weeks!)

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However, a deadline looms. I am off to the UK on 20 January to help celebrate my grandson’s third birthday and the boys have to be rehomed by this time. I am absolutely sure that they will make adorable pets. It would be lovely to think that they could be rehomed together, but they seem quite independent of each other and do not get stressed when they are parted, so they would very soon settle in a new home if they are separated. They will be wormed, vaccinated and chipped ready for their new homes. This cost will be met by our local animal charity “Action for Animals” who work tirelessly to provide care for the dogs and cats in this area, and they can also contribute towards the cost of neutering.

There follows a gallery of photos taken today showing them at every angle. They are both a cinnamon brown colour, Bootsie is a little darker, has four white socks, a bib and a flash on the back of his neck, and Eddie has just a little white on his back feet. They are both developing lovely facial markings, lighter patches around their eyes and eyebrows and a flash along their noses.

If you, or anyone you know can give these lovely chaps a loving home, please let me know. Could you please share this post amongst your Facebook friends and with anyone you think may be interested. Many thanks for taking the time to read this.

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What a glorious day

We have experienced a whole spectrum of weather conditions in the last few days. Just a week ago (the night/morning of 19/20 December) we had winds so strong that they lifted from outside our door a very heavy wooden cupboard that we use to store logs and boots and deposited it down the garden. It had travelled over five terraces, each a metre high, and landed upright in a narrow space between a stone wall and a young tree, having done almost no damage en-route!

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A couple of days later we were sitting in Cómpeta main square before attending a concert in the church (excellent – youth string orchestra) and it was so warm I had to divest myself of my jacket – and I looked up to see a young woman wearing just a tank top and shorts!

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Christmas Eve and Christmas Day supplied us with much needed rain – and plenty of it, backed up by more exceptionally strong winds. And now, 27 December, it has been absolutely still all day, with beautiful sunshine – a glorious day, perfect for a ride.

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The Canillas de Albaida end of the goat track where Roly and I take our morning walk

For reasons stated in a previous post, I am wary of riding in strong winds, so between the weather and the social whirl that is Christmas, I have not ridden for quite a few days, so took my opportunity to tack up and get going. Roly was delighted when he noticed my preparations – an opportunity to get away from those annoying little puppies for a few hours. So we set off for a long trek down into the valley and up into the mountains on the other side.

There were many signs of damage from the winds. Oranges and avocados on the ground, lots of branches torn from trees. Luckily the olive harest had been early this year, starting in November and mostly completed before the winds came, but the tracks and roads are still full of fallen olives. The olive harvest here is very labour intensive. The trees grow on very steep slopes and the fruit is shaken from the trees into nets that are slung below the branches. No room for any mechanical assistance on is terrain, although mules are often used to carry the crop home.

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The route that we take on our ‘cave ride’ includes a long stretch of driveable track, part of which is finished with asphalt but which changes to compressed dirt. During the summer this has compacted so that it has been as hard as concrete under Liana’s hooves, which means walking and trotting only, but today, thanks to the rain, it is soft underfoot which means we can canter and gallop along for miles. We both love it, although it sometimes takes Roly a little while to catch up with us.

This is a lovely circular ride, and we return via La Fabrica, across the river which is running very fast due to the recent rain, and reach home to find that David has been sunning himself on the terrace together with the puppies, who get very excited at the sound of my voice. Poor Roly must be thinking that they have invaded another of his spaces, although he seems slightly less bothered by them outside than indoors.

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Posted in A view of life, Animals, Horse riding in the mountains of andalucia | 4 Comments

From the rising of the sun………..to the setting of the fire

We live between two mountain villages at an altitude of 665 metres, where our property borders a nature reserve that includes the Tejeda, Almijara and Alhama mountains ranges that span the borders of the Andalucian provinces of Granada and Màlaga. The highest peak, La Maroma, is 2,066 metres. I have a view of this peak from my pillow. When I awake and open my eyes in the summer months, I am greeted with this view, and I never take it for granted.

The view from my pillow - the security bars at the window are traditional in this area

The view from my pillow – the security bars at the window are traditional in this area

And the same view from outside the bedroom window

And the same view from outside the bedroom window

Our house is a converted stable. There was actually a horse in residence when we purchased it. The original footprint remains the same, although it is rather more comfortable now than when the horse was living here. Our living room has one wall of glass panelled folding doors to the south west from which I have views over the hillsides and down the valley to the coast.

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On another side of the room our glass panelled double entrance doors give me a view over the village of Canillas de Albaida and up to the peaks of the mountains to the north west. We are blessed with wonderful views.

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We do not see the sun rise. In fact because we are tucked down below a ridge to the east, the sun doesn’t strike our property until mid morning. Although when I rise to do my outdoor (horse related) chores in the morning I see the sun hit the peak of La Maroma turning it a soft pink colour.

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Once I have fed the horse and collected her gifts of ‘black gold’ I take Roly for his morning walk – a 1.5 km round trip where I meet with lots of lovely people doing the same thing. Part of my walk is along a road that rises steeply and is bordered on both sides by olive trees. I then take a track that drops down to a path that is known as the ‘goat track’, which links the two villages of Cómpeta and Canillas de Albaida. On either side of this track the olives are interspersed with newly planted avocado trees, the crop of choice in this area – an excellent cash crop that is being planted in increasing numbers in the province of Málaga.

The surrounding hillsides are covered in the more traditional crops of olives, almonds and moscatel grape vines, which provide a surprisingly green backdrop considering the lack of rain in the area.

This autumn we have had amazingly warm and sunny weather, with worryingly little rain. During the afternoon, when the sun moves around towards the west, it pours through our glass doors heating our living room to a toasty warm temperature. But once it sinks behind the hills the temperature drops instantly and it is time to light the fire. This is normally David’s job, and involves a fair bit of elbow grease to clean the baked on soot from the wood burner glass door, before setting the grate with pine cones and kindling and then, once the flames have taken hold, adding olive wood logs to keep it burning for the evening.

But David is away this week, visiting his family and friends for a few days, so I get to stoke the fire. It is actually a lovely job with a very satisfying result, although I don’t suppose I shall fight for the position of chief stoker when he returns – I don’t want to deprive him of his fun. I have to say though, that I have been doing a grand job in his absence.

Because of the lie of the land hereabouts, most properties benefit either from the sun rise or sun set, and those few that get both tend to be exposed to winds from all directions. So, although we don’t see the sun coming up we get the most amazing sunsets, which suits me just fine.

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I can even see the sunset when I have my back to it – reflected in our folding doors.

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And once it is dark we have the treat of looking directly down upon Santa Ana church in all its flood-lit glory.

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Animals………….who’d have them?

We have a household of sulks and dis-satisfaction. Poor Roly is most perturbed by the presence of our two interlopers and is spending a lot of his time outside the house to show his disgust.

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Sheba has been in a bad way, even before the pups turned up. She had been attacked by something and had several punctures and swelling on top of her head which had in turn caused an abscess to form immediately above her eye. My beautiful cat has been feeling very sorry for herself and looking like a one eyed monster, although yesterday the abscess burst and the swelling has started to retreat and we can see our beautiful and demanding moggy returning to form.

Sheba wouldn't allow an 'ugly' photo to be taken, so here'a one I took earlier.

Sheba wouldn’t allow an ‘ugly’ photo to be taken, so here’a one I took earlier.

This morning the pups got me out of bed at 5am, demanding to be let out for a wee and their morning helping of milk. I took myself back to bed when they had been satisfied and waited for Liana to wake me up with her morning call for breakfast. It was gone 8:30 when I next woke – with no prompt from Liana. Very unusual. Normally if breakfast has not been served by 7:45 she acts like the ‘snooze’ control on an alarm clock, with increasingly urgent reminders every ten minutes!

All became absolutely clear when I finally opened the door to feed her – I could see from the door step that she had succeeded in her life’s ambition to break into the feed room. She had pulled a full bale of hay into the middle of the yard and done her best to make it disappear.

Eating too much hay did not overly alarm me, but the thought that she had also helped herself to grain and pellets (that require hours of soaking in water before being served), put me in a panic. As I neared the stable I could see her lying down which added to my fear, as horses with digestive issues will lie down to ease their discomfort, but actually need to be on their feet and moving around.

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When she saw me she immediately got to her feet and on inspection of the feed room I could see that not much harm had been done. Just a little grain eaten and no pellets. What a relief! We have kept a close watch on her all day, but she seems fine – she is just feeling very full up and tired from lack of sleep. And maybe a guilty conscience? – no, strike that thought – she is more likely to be feeling absolutely proud of herself!

Aren't I the clever one!

Who? Me?……. No, you must have left the door open!

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Well, what do you expect – you know how clever I am!

She managed to twist and remove an unlocked padlock and then pull back a bolt in order to open the door. So now we shall have to start to lock the padlock at all times (which will be very inconvenient) as there is nothing more sure than, having succeeded in her quest to ransack the feed store for a midnight feast, she will try to repeat this act of brilliance at every opportunity.

That will teach you to put me on a diet!!

That will teach you to put me on a diet!!

Nine days on from their arrival, the pups are doing very well. They are free to come and go from their box during the day and are almost no trouble, although they remain very time consuming – largely because I find them increasingly irresistible. They are less desperate for food as they get older and now wake up quietly, wander onto the newspaper for a pee and wait to be offered their next meal, rather than waking and instantly screaming like a flock of seagulls as they did for the first few days.

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So, although the puppies have not managed to charm either Roly or Sheba, they are doing quite a good job with David. I think he has moved on from ‘tolerant’ to ‘slightly fond’ of our house guests.

Posted in A view of life, Animals | Tagged | 2 Comments

I’ve sold myself a pup…….

It’s enough to make you think about giving up drink. Just one too many and look at the result!

Photo taken before handover

Photo taken before handover

You know how it goes…………….That haze of good-will that envelops you with a warm and snuggly feeling (phase 1), before it starts to wear off and you consider whether it will be wise to take a paracetamol before going to bed (phase 2), and the feeling in the morning when you think perhaps you should have taken two paracetamol last night and the realisation of what you did during phase 1 (phase 3).

It happened a week ago – I had been out with some new chums and had drunk only one glass of wine too many. On returning home I checked in on emails and facebook (as you do) …….and it just happened. It wouldn’t have happened without that extra glass of wine, but it did happen and I now have to take full responsibility for my actions.

I saw a facebook appeal from a local animal charity in my home town in Spain pleading for a foster carer for two abandoned pups, currently 3 to 4 weeks old, which had been dumped in a rubbish bin in the village. I found my fingers typing a response………’I can do that’ and before I had a chance to back-peddle I had clicked the send button and got an instant reply thanking me for my generosity – and when could I collect them!

At this point in time I hadn’t discussed ‘my generosity’ with my partner David, who I knew would agree but wouldn’t be keen, and I certainly hadn’t discussed the situation with Roly and Sheba, our scruffy mutt and our princess pussy cat who both like things at home just the way they are.

Two days later David collected me from Málaga airport and we picked up the tiny bundles of fluff on the way home. At the moment they are masquerading as guinea pigs, with very short legs (typical of cross-breeds in this area) and very fat tummies. Luckily they are eating solids so I don’t have to bottle feed, but they do require five feeds a day and a lot of ‘swabbing the decks’. I seem to have spent 70% of my waking hours during the last few days sitting or crawling on the floor.

I do find them fascinating. I have past experience of puppies and kittens at first hand, but have never hand-reared so have not paid so much attention to their habits and interaction with eachother and with me. They already have strong personalities and are quite different from eachother.

They have been christened Bootsie (he has four white socks and a bib)

Bootsie in reflective mood

Bootsie in reflective mood

and Eddie (he distinctly resembles a teddy bear but there are already several dogs hereabouts called Teddy)

Eddie, pondering what trouble to find next

Eddie, pondering what trouble to find next

I am confident that I will be happy to see them move on to new homes when the time is right (not like a friend of mine who found a starving dog a couple of weeks ago that was chipped, but the owner did not want her back – and had probably chucked her out in the first place – and after feeding and loving her for a week was told that a new home had been found for her, at which news my friend burst into tears and decided there and then to keep her beloved new dog, to go with the three that she already has!)

The pups’ reception in our household has been predictable. David is tolerant but not overjoyed, Roly is really pissed off, won’t go anywhere near them, and immediately goes outside whenever they are out of their box, whilst Sheba treats them the disdain that all dogs deserve and pretty much ignores them. And I have been crawling around the floor like an over-active toddler with a roll of loo paper always at the ready.

They spend a lot of time play-fighting and take it in turns to bite eachother’s noses

Bootsie biting eddie

Bootsie biting eddie

Eddie biting Bootsie

Eddie biting Bootsie

I’m sure I shall be posting on this subject again. In the meantime, if you would like to offer these gorgeous boys a loving home (one or both) or know of anyone who might, please let me know. A lot of abandoned dogs from this area are re-homed in Northern Europe and financial assistance could probably be found to help with travel expenses. Just make sure you are sober before hitting that button!

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The best laid plans……….

I‘m sitting on a Ryanair flight from Bristol back to Malaga. There are lots of spare seats and I have a row to myself and am looking out of the window onto beautiful fluffy white clouds below and a clear blue sky above. It is unusual for me to take a morning flight and a rare treat to have a daylight view from the window.

It has been a fabulous week which commenced last Saturday (23 November) when I was collected from Bristol airport by my daughter Rosie and grandson Mikey. This visit was to be an early Christmas celebration with my other daughter Ella joining us the next day for a ‘Christmas’ lunch and a ‘boxing day’ day out together on Monday.

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We did our food shopping on the way home (always a shock how much you can spend on Christmas food) and then back to Rosie’s new house in Worle, near to Weston super Mare where she and her partner Mike moved a couple of months ago. We have brought a joint of rump steak and a leg of lamb for our celebratory meal and plan to try a new way of cooking the beef, whereby it is seasoned and seared and then placed on a rack in a roasting tin with water in the bottom and completely sealed with foil, and then cooked in an extremely low oven (60 degrees C) over night. We are doing this following Mike’s mum serving it to them recently, so we have no specific instructions, just ‘giving it a go’. I am a little sceptical when I check the oven before going to bed and it is barely warm – I can’t really believe that the meat will cook at all, so I turn it up to 80 degrees and go to bed.

When I check again in the morning, the oven is still only vaguely warm and I take the meat out to have a look. There is a good head of steam inside the foil and the water in the bottom looks like it will make good gravy. I wrap it back up tightly and pop it back in and can’t resist turning up the oven to 100 degrees.

Ella’s Dad collects her from the station in Bristol and they arrive in good time for lunch, Ella bringing a large box of delicious home made chocolates as her contribution to the festivities. When I finally cut into the beef it is absolutely perfect, melt-in-the-mouth tender, totally pink and moist inside but no blood. It is the best roast beef I have eaten and I shall certainly be repeating this method of cooking. Together with the roast lamb, sausage meat stuffing balls, crispy roast potatoes and parsnips, sprouts cooked with bacon and almonds, and baby carrots, all swimming in delicious gravy from the meat juices – I can honestly say this was the best Christmas meal I have ever sat down to eat. We followed it with Rosie’s wonderfully crispy cream-filled brandy snaps.

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Present opening followed, and all gifts were very gratefully received. I had been instructed to bring swim wear with me so was expecting something indulgent the next day as a joint gift from my girls. It was revealed to be a spa day with two treatments and use of jacuzzi, followed by a shopping expedition to a nearby outlet mall in Swindon.

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Unfortunately things didn’t go entirely according to plan. Poor Rosie spent the entire night violently throwing up (not due to my cooking I hasten to add, but something that was ‘doing the rounds’ – Mikey had a similar experience a couple of nights earlier, and Mike a few days before that). Rosie was wrecked in the morning and there was no way she could do anything other than try to recover in peace. But she had made all the arrangements and had planned the route to the spa. I didn’t want to disturb her to ask for directions, so we looked it up on the internet and Ella and I set off in good time to arrive for our appointment at 10 am.

It wasn’t easy to find and we eventually arrived a little late, only to find that the spa was no longer operating at this venue and we had to set off in search of its new location. Anyone who has driven around swindon will know that a vast ring road encircles the town with a maze of industrial estates at every exit. At the point of giving up and going home, we stumbled upon the correct business park and reported to reception one hour late and in desperate need of a de-stressing massage. I also had a manicure to try and repair the neglect and damage my nails have suffered due to some hard-core gardening and general wear and tear.

After my treatment, Ella went off for hers whilst I ventured into the jacuzzi, where I remained for quite some time, and was joined by a couple of very pleasant women who found the switch to turn on some extra jets that almost blew me out of the water. When I had had enough I thought I would sit on one of the sun beds and read until Ella was finished, but as I wrapped the complimentary gown around me I suddenly felt most peculiar and made a dash for the loo, luckily just across the corridor, and just made it in time to throw up the entire contents of my stomach, which fortunately only consisted of water because I hadn’t eaten since the previous evening. I was really worried about getting home, because Ella doesn’t drive and judging by Rosie’s night-long sickness I didn’t expect to be able to drive safely. However it seemed that my attack was very minor compared to Rosie’s and after emptying my stomach I didn’t feel too bad and drove home without incident. Needless to say, the shopping trip was cancelled!

Ella returned to Leeds on Tuesday, and the family Christmas was over for another year. Not quite as planned, but it was lovely to have the family together for a couple of days.

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It’s a dog’s life!

The shopping trip couldn’t be delayed any longer (we had run out of cava!), so we trundled down to the coast yesterday and, as it wasn’t too hot, we took Roly with us. We can leave him at home without him making a fuss, but he would much rather come with us when we go out.

He has a lot of freedom at home. He is a small terrier type dog. At a little over three years old, he is still, just about, small enough to fit through the cat flap. So even if we are out, he can still let himself in and out of the house.

Dogs always know when you are getting ready to leave the house, even if you yourself are not aware of doing anything that would indicate your intentions. When Roly was younger and we were going somewhere that he could not accompany us, we would need to lock him in the house because otherwise he would chase after the car. Although there were very many occasions when he quickly assessed the situation, decided not to come when we called him and refused to be caught and locked up. On those occasions we would try to trick him by starting the car and inviting him in, and then grabbing him and taking him back down to the house. It was always necessary to build in extra time to account for the dog catching exercise when leaving the house for an engagement.

If Roly is presented with the choice of accompanying either me or David, he will invariably choose me. Although he will very happily go with David if I am remaining at home. On one occasion I was due to go to work in the next village. David had already left for a ride on the horse and Roly had tagged along with him. I waited until they were 500 metres away before I started the car to drive to work, so that he wasn’t aware of me going out.

When I arrived in Competa car park, a distance of approximately 3 km from home, I got out of the car and saw Roly running flat out to catch up with me. Apparently he had heard the car start and turned tail in hot pursuit, with his little legs going at full pelt all the way along the road that connects the two villages, which is used by a fair amount of traffic. David knew that I had clients to take out when I arrived at work so he rode as quickly as he could to Competa to retrieve the dog.

And then one day and for no apparent reason, his behaviour changed. On this occasion I told him to stay and he did. And he has never followed us since that day. I suppose he just grew up. I felt a bit sad about it really – I quite liked his naughty side – but it is a lot easier nowadays when we need to leave him behind.

Anyway, yesterday he was invited to join us, and between visiting Lidl and Mercadona we stopped at the beach at Caleta de Velez to give him a bit of a run. It was a beautiful day, the wide stretch of beach had just been cleaned and was virtually deserted, the sea was perfectly clear and the sky was a fabulous shade of blue. And Roly absolutely loved it. Please indulge me for the following plethora of photos, they simply convey a happy dog having a lovely time.

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And then as we were returning to the car Roly found some new friends – three of the tiniest Yorkies I have ever seen, a mother and two five month old pups, one of whom had broken both it’s front legs which were in plaster casts up to her arm (leg?) pits. This encumbrance did not slow her up much – she was charging around in such a funny way, raising both front legs together straight in front. She was so sweet and so tiny and so gutsy – a perfect little treasure and a lovely way to finish our stroll on the beach.

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Posted in A view of life, Animals | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

A ride out with los hombres

My occasional riding partner, Pepe, telephoned me yesterday to invite me to ride with a group to El Acebuchal. I was fairly sure I had the meeting time and place correct, but not so sure of other details because I find it very difficult to understand our local spanish dialect over the phone. But it was going to be an early start, as we were meeting at 09:00 and it would take thirty minutes or more to reach the meeting place, which meant leaving home at between 08:15 and 08:30, which meant that I would have to set my alarm for 06:00 so that I could feed the horse two hours before riding.

I couldn’t have an early night because we had arranged to go out with friends, but I was sure to only have a couple of glasses of wine – it is definitely not recommended to ride with a hangover!

So I was duly up and about at 06:00 this morning, fed Liana in the dark, and prepared for a long ride, taking a few items of ‘what if’ clothing, and my usual bumbag with camera, snacks, etc.

When I arrived at the meeting place, there was one guy already waiting, a man I see regularly riding past below our house every Saturday and Sunday on a huge coloured (brown and white) horse, not at all like the normal Andalucian horse, much heavier and thicker set. I asked him how many people were due to come and he said just Pepe.

I eventually heard hooves approaching and Pepe rode up over the brow of the hill, and then another horse followed, and another…..until eight guys on an assortment of horses joined us at the mirador. We set off along the road for about a kilometre – fortunately there was not much traffic as there were horses and dogs all over the place, and a lot of noise and merriment – even a bit of singing – and the zahato (traditional goatskin wine bottle) made an early appearance.

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We soon left the road for a dirt track and made a leisurely pace in the glorious sunshine. I kept out of the way at the back of the group. The guys were in their forties and fifties and had ridden yesterday to Canillas de Albaida from La Herradura (translation – the horseshoe) a coastal town east of Nerja. They were making the return journey today, and I presume they had arranged with Pepe to show them the route through El Acebuchal to Frigiliana. There were a few in the group that wanted to gallop ahead and make a noise, but they were mostly well behaved and very pleasant.

It is an easy ride, the track is wide and fairly level with the mountains soaring on either side. A few cyclists passed by and the odd car made way for us, and eventually we reached the river at the fabrica where the horses were able to have a welcome drink.

El Acebuchal, otherwise known as the lost village, has a very interesting history as relates to the spanish civil war. Here is a link that gives a good description of the village and the area in general http://www.spain-holiday.com/Frigiliana/articles/a-visit-to-el-acebuchal-the-lost-village. It is a delightful village in the middle of nowhere with a fantastic restaurant. Take a look at the link – it is definitely worth a visit.

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We tie up the horses and have a couple of beers in the restaurant. At this point I have ridden 13 km. I sit down with Pepe and the local guy with the coloured horse, who’s name is Fermín (the man, not the horse) and we swap telephone numbers as he says he will call me to ride some time. He keeps his horse on the edge of Cómpeta and lives in the village. He seems a very pleasant guy. We discuss which way we will return home, and decide on the long route that will take another three or four hours.

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We all leave after 30 minutes – the guys from La Herradura head off towards Frigiliana and Pepe, Fermín and I take a track into the woods at the top of the village. Incidentally, my horse was called Frigiliana by the trader from whom we purchased her, simply because that was where she came from. I didn’t like the name, and shortened it to Liana which I think suits her very well.

It was a lovely ride up a narrow rocky track until we eventually emerged on the main through dirt track that runs from Cómpeta to Frigiliana, at a sign post that told us it was 15 km to Cómpeta (about 10 km the other side of Casa de la Mina). I am getting to know this end of the track quite well now, having joined it at various points on my walks and rides. There is a bit of an incline, but it is generally fairly level with the most stunning scenery on all sides. Today the sky was a fabulous bright blue, and the sun was sparkling off the sea in the distance – it was beautiful.

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We stopped for a bite to eat by a stream that flowed down the mountainside and across the track. Fermín had a great chunk of bread and an uncooked morcilla (black pudding), which he kindly offered to share but I politely declined, and I nibbled on an apple and some almonds, whilst Liana did her best to clear the side of the track of grass.

Even though I know these tracks quite well, it is very difficult to judge distance. The other side of the valley can look relatively close, but you have to travel so far into the deep folds and gullies of the mountains that it takes forever to reach the other side.

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We eventually reach Cómpeta and part company with Pepe at the top of town and I am instructed to carry on with Fermín, although I would rather go in the other direction, which would be a more direct route home for me. We work our way down through the steep winding streets of the village, down steps on slippery concrete and finally emerge at Bar Marcos. I think Fermín wanted to show me where he keeps his horse, but I end up adding another 20 minutes to my journey. But then, what’s twenty minutes when you have been in the saddle for almost eight hours?

So we are now on our own and we trot all the way home, where Liana has a very well deserved late lunch and I fall into an armchair for the rest of the afternoon.

My trusty steed has carried me for more than 35 km, but I am pretty sure she enjoyed it, and she still had plenty of energy at the end. What a star!

Posted in A view of life, Animals, Horse riding in the mountains of andalucia | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

It was a dark and windy night…….

I was aware during the night of some vey gusty weather, with the sounds of the wind whistling outside the window and the scraping of garden furniture moving across the terrace. However it had died down to just breezy this morning, so I decided to stick with my plan to take my horse Liana out for a ride.

I am wary of riding in very windy weather. Many animals react with lots of energy in strong winds, and my horse is no exception. But all was calm when we departed mid morning for a shortish ride down into the valley below Canillas de Albaida to the picnic area at Fuente Santa.

We set off from home at 664 meters above sea level, and drop 90 meters to the start of the track to the valley, and at the bottom of the valley we have dropped another 50 meters. Normal procedure when we reach this lovely quiet spot is to dismount and let Liana take advantage of the grass that abounds alongside the river, whilst Roly is indulged with a supply of dog biscuits from my bum bag. Both animals enjoy this trip and it is good exercise for all involved (rather less for me, but I do regularly walk this route so I can at least empathise with my companions).

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Whilst we were all relaxing the wind started to pick up again, so I decided to make a quick exit from the valley, jumped on board and started the climb back towards the village. The first part of the track is narrow and rocky, but half way up, it widens and is an excellent place for a canter (or sometimes a gallop) up to the top.

We reached the point at which I normally give Liana her head at the exact moment that an enormous gust of wind took us by surprise, which was just the excuse Liana needed to change gear and take off with all cylinders firing and we reached the top in record time. She remained ‘on her toes’ most of the way home, calming down just before we reached our drive.

The event reminded me of an incident at the same place last year.

When riding down into the valley in August, I noticed some very lush looking figs growing alongside the path, but had no means of carrying them home. So I returned a couple of days later well prepared with carrier bags. I was able to pick some prime fruit from high in the tree from my vantage point up in the saddle and when I had a good number filling my bags I had to ponder on how to carry them home without the ripe fruit getting squashed.

I finally decided to carry the bags over my shoulder in the style of Dick Whittington, and tied them onto the end of my riding crop, and set off back up the hill.

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Unfortunately I hadn’t really thought this through very thoroughly, as the fig tree is situated at the very spot where the track widens and Liana expects to be allowed to break into a gallop. True to form, she kicked her heels and took off. Unfortunately I only had one hand to hold the reins, the other hand being busy holding on to the figs. No worries, I could enjoy a one-handed canter.

However as Liana picked up speed the carrier bags started to sway and rustle, and she could see them out of the corner of her eye. Now horses are flight animals (as opposed to fight), and the faster she went the more the bags swayed and she perceived a predator giving chase at close quarters, and however fast she went she couldn’t shake it off.

It quickly became apparent that something had to go, and it was likely to be me, unless I jettisoned the figs, and however much I love fresh figs, I value my limbs a bit higher. And so the predatory figs were unceremoniously dumped, enabling me to get back in control and bring Liana to a stop just before reaching the top of the hill and the village houses.

So I had to dismount and walk back to collect my rather squashed and sad figs and riding crop and show Liana what she was expected to carry the rest of the way home, albeit in a different position in front of the saddle.

Life is just one big adventure!

Posted in A view of life, Animals, Horse riding in the mountains of andalucia | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Maggie and Ella’s other adventure

I am finally getting around to posting a log of my adventure with my daughter last year (2012) when I met Ella mid-way on her return trip to the UK from Sydney, Australia, where she had been living and working for almost three years.  Again, I have to thank Ella for suggesting this trip, although I didn’t hesitate even for a second to agree the plan.

So, the decision had been made in principle, but we had to work out the detail.

It was an easy decision to meet in Bangkok, more or less half way, and easy to access. But we had allocated three weeks for our adventure – so where else should we visit?

Sight-seeing in Bangkok

Sight-seeing in Bangkok

Many years ago I had briefly worked alongside a gentleman from Sri Lanka who had impressed me with tales of the beauty of his country, so this was high on my list. And after considering various additional possibilities, we agreed that the third destination would be India.

Fishing boats in Galle, south west Sri Lanka

Fishing boats in Galle, south west Sri Lanka

I had never done any major travelling before – a couple of work related visits to California, but other than that I hadn’t been outside Europe. So it was a really big deal for me.

Ella researched and organised the itinerary – we were to have three full days self guided stay in Bangkok, then an early flight on day four to Sri Lanka where we stayed for ten days, and the last leg took us to Delhi via Mumbai for our final week in India.

You think you're hard done by if you can't find a seat on the bus? In India it is normal practise to sit 'on' the bus -  even on the motorway!

You think you’re hard done by if you can’t find a seat on the bus? In India it is normal practise to sit ‘on‘ the bus – even on the motorway!

I had an absolutely fabulous time, both spending such ‘quality’ time with my daughter, who I hadn’t seen for almost three years, and taking in the sights and sounds of cultures so varied and interesting. It was a great experiencee and I made daily notes of our adventures, although I hadn’t worked out how to create a blog at that time.

So, over the next few weeks I shall post a day by day account of our trip, together with a few of the hundreds of photos I took.

See the posts here:
Getting there, 8-9 July 2012 Malaga to Bangkok – http://wp.me/p3azEo-rh

Day 1, Bangkok – discovering the thrills of a tuktuk ride – http://wp.me/p3azEo-rw

Day 2, Bangkok – a culinary adventure – http://wp.me/p3azEo-rR

Day 3, Bangkok – shopping, but not as we know it – http://wp.me/p3azEo-sk

Day 4, Bangkok, Ayutthaya – more ruins than you can shake a stick at! – http://wp.me/p3azEo-sz

Day 5, Bangkok – Grand Palace – http://wp.me/p3azEo-t0

Day 6, Sri Lanka – Galle Fort – http://wp.me/p3azEo-tl

Day 7, Sri Lanka – Galle – http://wp.me/p3azEo-tv

Day 8, Sri Lanka – tuktuk tour – http://wp.me/p3azEo-tQ

Day 9, Sri Lanka – day of relaxation – http://wp.me/p3azEo-uf

Day 10, Sri Lanka – the guided tour begins – http://wp.me/p3azEo-ur

Day 11, Sri Lanka – Sinharaja Rainforest – http://wp.me/p3azEo-uI

Day 12, Sri Lanka – Yala National Park – http://wp.me/p3azEo-vb

Day 13, Sri Lanka – Kandy – http://wp.me/p3azEo-vH

Day 14, Sri Lanka – Pinnawala & Perahera – http://wp.me/p3azEo-w2

Posted in Far Eastern adventures | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Such wonderful comments

I don’t know if this is good blogging etiquette, but I wanted to put together some of the wonderful comments I have received from strangers who have read my blog.

the good - lovely even track with lush scenery

the good – lovely even track with lush scenery

As I write this post, I have received a few short of 14,000 views of my blog. A tiny amount compared to many blogs, but a huge number as far as I am concerned. I didn’t really expect anyone to read it, I wrote it as a log of my adventure, so that I would be able to re-live the experience from time to time through my words.

I was delighted that so many friends followed and enjoyed my daily posts from the camino, and very moved by all the lovely comments I received from family and friends whilst I was walking.  I can assure you that each and every one of them meant a great deal to me and really spurred me on, every step of the way.

The bad - deep mud on the track

The bad – deep mud on the track

But the comments below, from people that I don’t know, have surprised me and I am thrilled that the blog has been helpful and informative to prospective pilgrims. Thank you so much, one and all, for making the effort to leave a comment. As you can see, it is very much appreciated.

CARLOS PEBENITO – 7 September
Thank you so much for this complete and in-depth details of your walk. It has been very inspiring to read through your daily blog and helped me and my family make the decision to do the pilgrimage in 2015.

Cornishtim – 29 August
Enjoying your blog very much. Inspiring me to finalise my plans for the section from Le-puy -en Velais to SJP. I still dream of my walk on the Norte last year.

Seawarrior – 28 August
Just finished reading all of your Camino posts … thanks for sharing. It was so enlightening. I intend to take the same journey in 2015 and you gave me a lot of valuable info to mull over. Congratulations on your great accomplishment and I hope you continue posting. – Michael

CindyML – 25 August
Maggie – my friend and I will be walking the first third of the camino in September 2014 (time constraints do not allow us to do the whole thing in one trip). I will be 50 years old and when we finish (three trips) my friend will be 50. We read your blog from beginning to end last night while we had dinner at my house. Thank you so much for sharing your Camino with us. I had been searching forums for photos and hit the jackpot with your blog. Thank you again for sharing the good, bad and the ugly. Lots of good tips and ideas. Cindy from Texas

Argelia Truluck – 9 August
Thank you, thank you…! For Re-printing the Kim Green article above…(http://wp.me/p3azEo-no) It so delighted me, very generous of you, since not only made me smile,but better yet reminds us all who have the pleasure of reading-it; of our humanness, and the importance of never forgetting that our partners, husbands, friends, relatives, or anyone in our circle who’s ever been kind to us, sometimes may need a shoulder to lean on; and we should feel Oh, so privileged to have the opportunity to reciprocate…! Thanks again, I am so glad to have signed-up to follow your blog, that is immensely “divertido” [ entretaining ] FUNNY, and for now that my husband and I, cannot yet make the trip, to Camino de Santiago; your narratives have allowed me to live [ vicariously ] the adventures through the reading. Love the pictures placed along, it gives the reader and exact mental image of the terrain, and everything else you have previously described. Many Blessings onto you…!
P.S. I specially loved the pictures from above, [the Santiago’s Church rooftop ]Had no idea one could go up there, magnificent pictures.! Lia Truluck

Judy Blight – 8 August
That was a great article with lots of interesting photos and comments about the different albergues on the journey—-thanks

the ugly - one of the stretches of Tarmac that suck the spring from your step

the ugly – one of the stretches of Tarmac that suck the spring from your step

- and the fabulous - the first sighting of the ocean

– and the fabulous – the first sighting of the ocean

Posted in A view of life, Camino de Santiago de Compostela | 1 Comment

Noche del Vino XXXVIII, Cómpeta 2013

No sooner are the ferias over than it is time for the night of the wine, Competa’s annual celebration of the grape harvest, held every year on 15 August.

The white mountain village of Cómpeta with a snow-capped mount Maroma as a backdrop.

The white mountain village of Cómpeta with a snow-capped mount Maroma as a backdrop.

La Noche del Vino festival developed from an age old tradition of villagers meeting to mark the beginning of the grape harvest. The muscatel vines that scramble over the surrounding hillsides produce the very popular wine of the region, best known in its sweet, sherry like, form, but also produced in medium and dry varieties. We have two substantial bodegas in the area – Bodega Almijara (Jarel) on the edge of Competa, and Bodega Bentomiz (Ariyanas) situated between Competa and Sayalonga. Both these bodegas have an international clientele.  But we are not restricted to buying our wines from these major wineries. Almost all local Spanish people seem to have a plot of land (finca) where they tend their ancient vines and there are many small farmers that produce a couple of barrels of wine each year.

Although the local tipple is most commonly referred to as Cómpeta wine, do not make the mistake of asking for this variety in the bars of Canillas de Albaida, Archez or any of their neighbouring villages, which will all stock the wine produced in their immediate vicinity, and are very quick to let you know the wine is from their own village and not Cómpeta! It is easier to ask for ‘vino del terreno’ and then no-one will be offended.

The festival of la Noche del Vino is now in its 38th year as an organised event, growing in stature by the year. it has now been declared by the government of Andalusia a festival of national touristic interest (‘Declaración de Interés Turístico National de Andalucia’) and attracts many thousands of visitors to the village for the occasion. Each year the town hall runs a competition for local artists to design a poster for the event which is displayed in the windows of all local businesses and is much sought after by locals and visitors alike and many of these posters are framed to brighten up the walls of homes near and far.

The winning poster for the 38th Noche del Vino fiesta

The winning poster for the 38th Noche del Vino fiesta

The event takes place in two of Competa’s plazas, and the narrow connecting streets are adorned with colourful flags and bunting. Here you will find craft and food stalls offering a wide variety of products.

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visitors start to arrive for a day of fun

The festivities commence in Plaza Vendimia, which has recently been refurbished to create a fabulous new viewing terrace, where the village statue of a farmer carryng a basket of grapes on his head, has been repositioned to great effect.

The village statue in pride of place at the new mirador

Characterful townhouses perch high on an outcrop of rock, viewed from the mirador

Characterful townhouses perch high on an outcrop of rock, viewed from the mirador

A large stage has been erected at one side of the square and various musicians and dance troupes perform here throughout the day as the crowd of villagers and visitors swell to fill the space under a huge tarpaulin that has been strung across the plaza to provide some shade for the onlookers.

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On another side of the square in a roped off area, a group of villagers is busy preparing a feast for the visitors (handed out free of charge), where probably the biggest frying pan you have ever seen is used to prepare the traditional dish of migas (breadcrumbs cooked with garlic and olive oil), and served with bacalao (dried salt cod), salad, and of course a bunch of grapes freshly harvested from the hillsides surrounding the village.

"team migas" preparing the feast for the visitors

“team migas” preparing the feast for the visitors

On a third side of the square is a dedicated platform for the annual grape treading ceremony that takes place during the fiesta.

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Two farmers dressed in traditional attire and accompanied by a troupe of musicians, parade through the crowds carrying baskets of grapes on their heads, making their way towards the platform,  which is beautifully decorated with tiled panels depicting local traditions. This ceremony is programmed to take place at twelve noon, but it is usually nearer 2pm when the treading commences, normal procedure here in Spain.

The baskets are then emptied into the shallow trough, where the treading takes place and the resultant juice pours through a spout and is caught in a large vat, all the while accompanied by the musicians.

In addition to the free food, there is free Cómpeta wine served to all who want to try it for the first time, and also to those who are very familiar with the taste.  The wine tastes similar to sherry and is equally potent, so the small glasses are served with the intention that people do not over-indulge.

David enjoys a free glass of Competa wine

Throughout the afternoon the crowd are entertained by a succession of performers on the stage, both locals and visiting groups of musicians and dancers.  The pop group FiestaSur are due to be on stage at 3.30pm, but we left at about this time so missed out on the concert.  The Spanish seem never to grow tired of loud, bouncy music. I admire their stamina, but we have had enough of a good thing for the time being, and want to keep some energy in reserve for the night-time programme of events.

So we return home to have a siesta and tend to the animals’ needs and eventually arrive back in Cómpeta at 11:30pm.

The main square in Cómpeta is Plaza Almijara, reached via a very steep incline that leaves most people puffing and panting by the time they reach the top. It is very pretty, dominated by the magnificent parish church with its soaring tower, topped with a golden dome. The tall buildings around the plaza are constructed in a traditional style with several popular bars/restaurants where you can catch your breath with a cool beer or cup of coffee.  It is very popular with locals and visitors alike and the scene of regular entertainment by our excellent local musicians.

Here are some views of what the Plaza Almijara usually looks like with the recently constructed Paseo de las Tradiciones alongside the church.

and this is how it looked during the day of the 15th August, with the special stage that is erected every year for the flamenco performances, depicting an old finca with a drying bed full of grapes (grapes are arranged in south-facing ‘drying beds’ for a few days so that the fruit soaks up the sun and develops the sweetness that the local wine is renowned for. The performers enter and exit the stage via the door of the finca.

We return to the square in good time – by 11:30pm the speeches have been made and there are some youngsters on the stage singing flamenco. Now, listening to flamenco is an acquired taste, and it is a taste that generally us guiris (foreigners) do not find as palatable as the Cómpeta wine.   The place is absolutely packed, all tables in the restaurants have been reserved for weeks and every chair that forms the temporary open-air auditorium is taken. We squeeze through the melee of miscellaneous bodies and make our way behind the stage expecting to find a spare seat in Oscar’s bar, but even though there is no view of the proceedings from here, it is also rammed full. But the lovely Oscar rescues us by producing an extra table from within the restaurant and soon has us seated with glasses of wine in front of us.

And to our delight, sitting at a table directly in front of us are three guys with instruments – a six string and a twelve string guitar and something that resembles a lute – and we sit and listen to them playing and singing as if it were a personal performance.

After a couple of glasses of wine at Oscars we work our way back to the main square, by which time the flamenco dancing has commenced, accompanied by the singing, which somehow is much easier to listen to when accompanied by dancers.

The show is brilliant, the square has an amazing atmosphere jammed full of locals and visitors, Spanish and foreigners, all enjoying every moment of the spectacular show, provided free of charge by the townhall of Cómpeta.

The square at night has a totally different ambience, with the stage and the church tower picked out by colourful lights.

The dancing continues well into the early hours. While I am taking the video below, David is tasked with fetching some drinks and on his way he finds some friends who fit us in around their table, and hey presto, we have a great view and great company. And to add to the perfection we find that we are sitting next to the free bar, still serving Cómpeta wine!  Like I said before – the Spanish certainly know how to throw a party.

The show comes to an end at about 3:00am, earlier than in years past, and on our way back down the hill David is inexorably drawn towards the churro vendor.  I declined to join him in his indulgence, and then proceeded to eat my way through at least half of his churros. And he didn’t even complain – what a gentleman!

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Posted in A view of life | 5 Comments

The Spanish certainly know how to throw a party

The feria season is drawing to an end in our area of Andalusia, Southern Spain. Every July/August the local villages take it in turns to transform their streets into a venue for funfair / equestrian games / pop concert / choral performance / religious procession / children’s water park / foam party / free food / marching brass band, and probably many more events that I have missed.

Our village of Canillas de Albaida commences celebrations by letting everyone know that the party is about to begin by firing earth-shatteringly loud rockets into the air throughout the day and into the night of the preceding Thursday.  If I’m lucky I might hear the whoosh or see the puff of smoke that warn of the almighty bang that will follow, which will otherwise make me jump out of my skin.

Another rocket is launched in order to keep us all on our toes

Another rocket is launched in order to keep us all on our toes

On Friday the village band marches the streets throughout the day, belting out a variety of numbers from religious to oom-pah jazzy. This year the band seems to have swelled in number with members from all age ranges, and they are really rather good, especially when heard from our terrace, high above the village.

At 19:00 the first event begins with “La corrida de cintas a caballo”. This event involves coloured ribbons, coiled around a cardboard reel, and thread onto a wire which is fastened to a lamp post or other convenient item on either side of the road. The end of the ribbon has a small ring attached which is left hanging.

La cinta ribbons

The idea is that those horses and riders that take part set off from about 30 metres away, at a gallop, and the rider holds a pencil which he (and occasionally she) tries to insert into the ring as he gallops under the wire. When successful  the ribbon unfurls as the horse charges away. There seems to be some form of rules and regulations because some ribbons are confiscated and reattached to the overhead wire.  Once all the participants have had a go, they all return to the starting point and try again.

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Horse riding in this part of Spain is a very macho pastime and we don’t see many girls and women riding locally.  On this occasion there is one young woman amongst about twenty men, most in their teens and early twenties, but a few more mature fellows, David amongst them.  It is the first time he has attempted the sport and is very competent at getting Liana to set off at a gallop, but not so successful at winning a ribbon.

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A good crowd gathers to watch the proceedings, the band belts out a tune every now and then, and of course the rockets continue to explode at regular intervals. All the horses are so used to the noise, even at very close quarters, that they don’t even bat an eyelid. It is just us mere humans that get caught out again and again. Take a look at my poor attempt at a video:

After the horses and riders have stripped the wire of all the ribbons, new ones are attached, the wire is set at a lower level and it is the turn of the motor cyclists to have a go.

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At the end of proceedings, David is handed a consolation ribbon by the “Ribbon Master” and we decide a drink and tapas is called for, so we make our way to Ramon’s bar where there is a convenient car park with railings to harness Liana and she waits patiently, with the occasional pat and a treat of some bread.

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It is quite dark by the time we make our way home and Liana finally gets a late supper with an extra bit of hay for all her hard work.  She was very cooperative during the cinta and seemed to enjoy herself. She is not the sort of horse to do something she doesn’t like – and she has a choice to be uncooperative due to the tack that she wears, unlike many Spanish owned horses in this area that are ridden with quite ferocious bits and nose-bands and often with spurs. They do not have a choice, as to refuse to cooperate would result in pain. But maybe this is a topic for a different post.

Making our way home with Santa Ana church lit up in the background

Making our way home with Santa Ana church lit up in the background

A better view of the beautifully lit Santa Ana church

A better view of the beautifully lit Santa Ana church

Back home, we can hear the sounds of the Señoras’ choir drifting up from the village.

The women of the village put on a great show

The women of the village put on a great show

We should go back down to enjoy the festivities, but the draw of a comfy chair wins out and we stay put.  However there are many that attend to enjoy the music and dancing.  After the Señoras there comes the crowning of the feria queen and then the night really gets going with the pop groups that belt out the music so loved by the Spanish, who all get up to dance and enjoy themselves.  Amazingly, the bands play until the not so wee hours of the morning, coming to a halt at 7am.

One of the two bands that alternate throughout the festivities

One of the two bands that alternate throughout the festivities

We can clearly hear every beat of the music at our house, as loud as you would listen to music on your own CD player. Of course it is very hot so the windows have to stay open. Sleep during this weekend will be intermittent at best, and as soon as the music stops, our animals all start their own particular chorus, demanding breakfast, so there is no chance for a lie in now that the townsfolk have decided it is time to sleep.

Saturday’s celebrations start in the main plaza at about mid day with games for the children, including sack races,  scrabble for sweets that fall from the piñata, an earthenwear pot suspended above the square and smashed open by a pole weilding, blindfolded chap who swings wildly until the pot is located, smashed open and sweets spill onto the ground below.

Locating and smashing the piñata is not an easy task

Locating and smashing the piñata is not an easy task

When all the children are in a scrum to collect as many sweets as possible, it seems a good time to turn on the hose pipe and soak as many children and spectating adults as possible.

In the scrum with only one thing in mind - to pick up as many sweets as possible

In the scrum with only one thing in mind – to pick up as many sweets as possible

And one inevitable conclusion - a thorough soaking

And one inevitable conclusion – a thorough soaking

The whole event seems to revolve around a good soaking and the lovely plaza fountain doubles as a paddling pool, and the kids soon realise that with an appropriately placed finger they can easily divert the flow of water to land on unsuspecting spectators.

The plaza fountain has a new purpose for the weekend

The plaza fountain has a new purpose for the weekend

As always, there is a bar available for beer, wine and soft drinks and a huge (free of charge) paella is prepared for all who join the long queue.  

Stirring up a feast

Stirring up a feast

The spanish will always queue for paella

The spanish will always queue for paella

The result is definitely worth the wait

The result is definitely worth the wait

It is a lovely day with much laughter and merriment. I foolishly responded to Roly’s reproachful look when he saw that we were getting ready to go out and brought the dog along to the festivities. It was a mistake,and he spent most of the time sitting on someone’s foot to keep his bottom off the wet ground (usually mine or David’s foot, but he is not at all fussy and will sit on any convenient foot, which can give an unsuspecting person a bit of a surprise!)

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So after the paella, we take Roly home before the foam party and disco commences. Such great family fun in the beautiful Canillas plaza.

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On Saturday evening we go to see our favourite band playing at the Alberdini, a rustic hotel and restaurant with amazing views to the coast, where Guiri play their brilliant music out on the terrace under a beautiful starlit sky. Once we start dancing, we dont stop until the band ceases playing at precisely 11:30pm (new strict regulations in Competa), by which time the party will have started in Canillas, so we drive the few kilometers to the next village where the first group has commenced belting out their music and people are already starting to dance.

Let the dancing commence

Let the dancing commence

The entertainment is set up in the village car park, with a big stage for the bands, and temporary bars set up all along the edges, with a variety of drinks and food available.  There are a few stalls and rides for small children at one end and in a different location there are fairground dodgems, also belting out loud music.

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The Canillas feria is small and intimate in comparison to the affair hosted by neighbouring Cómpeta, and I think it is all the better for it. There are two pop groups that alternate throughout the night, so the music never stops – until 7am!  We stay and enoy the atmosphere until about 2:30 but by then we have had enough fun and are hopeful that we will be tired enough to sleep through the noise.

On Sunday morning the people of the village who are ill are visited by a deputation, including the village band, taking them a present and wishing them well so that they will be able to attend the feria next year. There are more fun and games for the children in the plaza at mid day.

In the evening, after a solemn mass at the old church, the statue of the Virgen del Rosario is carried around the village followed by a procession of villagers and the town’s horses and riders. David had planned to take Liana down for the procession (romeria) but finally decided that he would give it a miss, probably feeling a bit jaded by all the late nights and an oncoming throat infection that I had brought back from the UK.

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Homage is paid to the virgin by way of a  firework display – proper pretty fireworks, not the rockets that are exploding all throughout the weekend.  We have a particularly spectacular view of the fireworks from our terrace above the village, we don’t have to crane our necks at all, the show is at eye level.

Then the party recommences at 11pm with the final night of music and dancing, lead by the same two pop groups, interrupted by a prize giving ceremony at 2am after which the festivities continue until sunrise, when a flurry of rockets are exploded to mark the end of the feria.

The Spanish have amazing stamina to enjoy themselves, and we extranjeros find it very hard to keep up. They certainly know how to party!

Many thanks to Paco Fran for allowing me to use some of his photos.

Posted in A view of life | 2 Comments

Post camino assessment and reflections

So, I have at last got around to writing the final assessment of my camino, completed some ten weeks ago. I dont know why it has taken me so long to put fingers to keyboard. May be some deep psychological reason relating to not wanting to let go of the experience. Or may be just a case of laziness. Or more likely some wishy-washy reason somewhere inbetween. I apologise for the length of this post, which is a fairly thorough reflection of five very significant weeks in my life.

Daily life on the Camino
With the exception of only two nights we stayed in albergues along the route. Albergues provide a bed for one night only on production of a pilgrim’s credential which is rubber stamped and dated. The accommodation varies in cost from free (although a donation is expected), to 12 euros.

They are run by the local authority, or by the church, or privately. Conditions vary enormously from appalling to superb. In some there is room to swing a cat, and in others the beds are touching and you find yourself in extreme proximity to a complete stranger

Albergue Puerta Revellin, Logroño, spacious dormitory and excellent facilities

Albergue Puerta Revellin, Logroño, spacious dormitory and excellent facilities

Beds are usually bunks, and an upper and lower bunk are allocated to pilgrims arriving in pairs. Ella was always gracious about taking the top bunk, but I did find myself sleeping up top on one occasion when there was no other option. Although clambering up a rickety ladder is rather ungainly, the advantage when reaching such heights is that you can actually sit on the bed without bending double. What I didn’t like about the lower bunk was that I could never be sure what debris might fall from the mattress above during the night.

The very friendly and comfortable Albergue Puerta de Nájera

The very friendly and comfortable Albergue Puerta de Nájera

Some nights in the albergues it was very cold and I wore long johns and long sleeved t-shirt to bed, other nights it was really hot. Invariably the dormitories were extremely stuffy and a bit smelly by the morning and it was a relief to get up and go outside as soon as possible.

A bit chilly in Los Arcos, Albergue Casa de Austria, very friendy and cosy atmosphere

A bit chilly in Los Arcos, Albergue Casa de Austria, very friendy and cosy atmosphere

There was a lot of snoring in the dormitories but ear plugs drowned out most of the noise and enabled a reasonable night’s sleep.

Although facilities were limited, there was rarely a problem queuing for the loo or shower. A lot of people left very early in the morning, way before it was light, so those of us that rose later – between 6:30 and 7:00 did not have such a problem.

Logroño , Albergue Puerta de Revellin

Logroño , Albergue Puerta de Revellin

Life on the camino involved waking, packing, walking, stopping for breakfast after an hour or two, walking, stopping for lunch, walking, arriving at the albergue, showering, laundry, writing my blog, eating dinner, lights out between 9:30 and 10:30.

Albergue Camino del Perdon in Uterga which was full and we were charged an outrageous 50 euros for a double bedroom in a B&B owned by the albergue hospitaleros

Albergue Camino del Perdon in Uterga which was full and we were charged an outrageous 50 euros for a double bedroom in a B&B owned by the albergue hospitaleros

The fabulous characterful albergue at Espinosa del Camino, where hospitalero Pepe cooks  paella for supper

The fabulous characterful albergue at Espinosa del Camino, where hospitalero Pepe cooks paella for supper

After a strong start I found the following days quite hard. I didn’t sleep well and felt exhausted a lot of the time. Whilst Ella, after her weak start, got stronger by the day.

We both suffered with blisters, despite my training. And the soles of my feet really ached at times.

But I slowly got to know my body. I seemed to have a low patch in the early afternoon when I just felt drained of energy and I needed a rest. I realised that I didn’t feel the stones through my boots in the mornings, just in the afternoons when my feet had become more sensitive.

About half way through the third week my feet were healed, I had no more blisters, and my boots became comfortable at all times

After starting off as a burden, my backpack became almost weightless at times, and I wasn’t at all aware of it. It was a surprise when I took it off and felt how heavy it actually was.

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I became better at getting ready in the mornings. Initially I found it hard to organise my belongings into their rightful places and I had great difficulty stuffing my sleeping bag into its under-sized compression sack. But it all got easier with practise.

Some days the camino was populated by dozens of pilgrims,

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and other days we would see hardly a soul.

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We met some interesting people, bumping into them time after time. We shared very pleasant times with lovely people

Sometimes the albergues had cooking facilities and Ella would cook dinner for us and anyone else who wanted to join us.

The huge municipal albergue at Santo Domingo de la Calzada, with excellent facilities

The huge municipal albergue at Santo Domingo de la Calzada, with excellent facilities

Some pilgrims just walked a section of the camino, returning another year to continue. Some pilgrims took buses through certain stages. Some pilgrims didn’t carry their bags, but sent them ahead by taxi.

Ella and I wanted to walk every step of the camino, no matter how difficult or how boring or how ugly it may be. We wanted to carry our packs ourselves. We wanted the complete experience from start to finish.

The tracks varied from gravel, to rough and rocky, occasionally they were made of compacted earth or sand which was a dream to walk on, but mostly they were stoney and quite uncomfortable. In places it was extremely muddy. There had been a great deal of rain in the weeks prior to us starting and the paths were either still sloshing with wet mud or dried into deep ruts where bikes had passed over them.

There were a lot of cyclists on the camino, virtually none of whom had a bell on their bike and would come up behind us without any warning and make us jump out of our skins.

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Quite often we had to walk on paved roads, which was ok for short spells, when it was broken up by tracks, but if we were on roads for an extended time it became very wearing on the feet and on our spirits.

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There were also long stretches of pathways alongside the motorway, brightened occasionally be lorry drivers beeping a greeting. The worst day was when we walked through Burgos, traipsing through kilometre after kilometre of industrial and commercial areas to reach the city and then the same again on the way out. Logroño, León and Astorga were also a slog to get through.

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We didn’t stop to sightsee in the cities. We were both of the mind that we were on a walk, not a sight-seeing tour and just ploughed straight through, preferring to stay for the night in small villages.

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the stunningly beautiful village of Santa Catalina de Samosa

I left all the decisions relating to how far we walked each day to others. First to Peter and Soren, and then Ella took over. Ella’s return flight was booked for 22 May so we worked our way backwards from this point.

We didn’t take a guide book, relying on a couple of sheets of paper showing the elevation of each suggested stage, and a list of albergues; and also looking at the guidebooks of other pilgrims from time to time.

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We didn’t follow the stages suggested every day. We wanted to avoid stopping at the obvious places where there would be more pilgrims.

We walked every day, for thirty-four days, without any rest days. On average we walked 27 km per day, the longest being 37 km and the shortest was 20km.

The scenery and weather could lift flagging spirits. And when I found it really tough going I plugged in my ear phones and listened to good marching music. On a couple of occasions I walked too fast which caused blisters to form under my toes.

We met with every type of weather. Snow on the ground at the start together with lovely sunshine for a few days. Then drizzle, then howling gales that almost knocked us over, then we had to battle through a hail storm followed by snow and a heavy frost, then severe rain, then a mixture of cloudy sunshine which was ideal walking weather, then back to heavy rain for a few days towards the end of our journey.

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a frosty start to the day

But it was our great good fortune to be greeted with glorious sunshine as we approached the coast and I was able to spend a morning in Finisterre ambling along the beach looking for scallop shells and lying in the sun. Pure bliss.

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reaching the ocean at Muxia

Did the experience change me emotionally?
Not really. I had no amazing spiritual or religious awakening, no life changing experiences. But I do feel a bit different, having done something so major. And I did have a bit of a meltdown on entering the cathedral at Santiago for the first time. I was overcome with emotion that we had reached our goal, and collapsed onto a pew in a fit of tears. I loved the cathedral, and the pilgrims’ mass was mesmerising. I was so lucky that the botafumiero was in action at the end of the mass. An amazing experience to behold.

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I guess I have changed a little, in that I am now considering walking another camino, probably next year, possibly the Camino Portuguese, from Lisbon to Santiago. And the big difference (and huge leap out of my comfort zone) would be that I will walk on my own. I loved walking with Ella and spending such a chunk of time with her, but it made me very lazy about communicating with others, which is what a lot of pilgrims consider to be the most important aspect of their camino.

I am extremely lucky that I had no restrictions on my time and was able to complete the camino in one go. I think that if I had decided to walk a shorter stage of just a couple of hundred kilometres, it would not have meant as much to me and I doubt that I would have gone back to complete the exercise. It was just perfect timing that Ella invited me to join her when she did and that by the time we had set a date my job had ceased to exist and we were both free to commit to the project.

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Physical issues
During my training and the first couple of weeks of the camino, my calf muscles grew enormously, much to my dispair. I hated the chunky look of my legs and thought that I was stuck with it until long after my walk finished. But somewhere along the way the bulk disappeared and my calves returned to normal – very strange.

My back slimmed down a lot, I guess due to carrying my pack and also from using hiking poles. I had serious expectations that the poles would help rid me of the inevitable onset of the dreaded ‘bingo wings’, but unfortuntely I can’t report any changes there!

When I set off I was about 2.5 kilos above the weight I deem acceptable, and 4.5 kilos above my ideal target. I had been trying to shift at least a coupe of kilos for many months without any success. During the walk I ate many more carbohydrates than I would normally, lots of bread, chips, chocolate and beer (which I don’t normally drink) and wine. It was quite difficult to eat healthily on a regular basis, most of what was on offer was stodge to fuel the hungry hikers.

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before

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after

I was aware that I had lost some weight because my trousers were very loose, but there was no opportunity to assess yourself in a full length mirror as you would at home. In the event, the difference between my starting and finishing weight was a loss of 6 kilos and then I dropped another kilo during the first week of my return. So, a total weight loss of just over a stone, which I am delighted about, and am maintaining ten weeks on.

My feet have almost recovered. My heels are no longer bruised where I suffered deep blisters, but the underside of my fourth toe on each foot remains quite numb, even after ten weeks. Hopefully this will go in time, but it is not a huge problem. Also, one of my big toes became bruised under the nail and although it has never caused discomfort, I am about to lose the nail. Hopefully it will hold on for another couple of months until I can start to wear closed in shoes.

When I left home my backpack weighed approximately 7.5 kilos, not too much over the recommended 10% of bodyweight. However, during the walk this weight was supplemented by water and food supplies. I also found myself carrying the odd item for Ella because she had no room to put anything extra in her very undersized pack. During the first few days I found the pack very uncomfortable and heavy and was constantly making adjustments to the straps in an attempt to make it less of a burden. But over time the pack became less of an issue, presumably my back and shoulders were becoming stronger, and eventually I was hardly aware of the weight until I took it off.

During the first week I was walking with Ella, who has lived out of a backpack for years, and with Peter and Soren who are both experienced hikers and used to all the equipment. They were all able to get ready in the morning with seemingly no effort. As a complete novice I hadn’t thought that it would be useful to practise packing and organising my pack, and as a result I was always in a panic in the mornings, not wanting to hold everyone up. But I was always last to be ready, no matter how much earlier I had risen.

On a very personal note, like many women of my age, I suffer with a very sluggish digestive system. This is fairly easy to deal with at home, by eating plenty of fibre, taking fibre supplements and when the need arises taking a laxative. However it is extremely nerve wracking to take a laxative when you don’t know that a loo will be available for use at the right time. In conjunction with the terrible stodgy diet enroute, I did suffer a degree of discomfort and bloating.

Who else walks the camino?
People from many different countries make this pilgrimage, many repeating the experience several times. It can be addictive.

Here are some facts and figures:
During May 2013 (the month that we completed our camino) the following numbers of pilgrims registered their camino and claimed their compostela certificate at the pilgrims’ office in Santiago:
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Total number 25,206

of these 46% were women and 54% men

87% arrived on foot, 12% by bicycle, 0.5% on horseback and 0.03% by wheelchair

13% were under 30, 60% were aged between 30 & 60 and 27% were over 60

32% were spanish, and 68% foreigners.

of the foreigners 20% were german, 10% French, 9% Italian, 9% from the UK, 6% Portuguese, 5% Irish.

We also came across many Americans, Australians, Dutch, Danish and Koreans

71% of pilgrims chose to walk the Camino Frances although there are various other routes

and of these, 20% started their camino in Sarria, the shortest route that allows a compostela to be granted at just over 100 km

15% started in St Jean Pied de Port, as did Ella and I, walking 800 km to Santiago and then a further 110 km to Muxia and Finisterre where we were able to claim further certificates.

So, why did I do it?
Mainly because my daughter asked me, she wanted to spend this time with me, which is really the only reason I needed.

For the main part, we got on very well, with just one upset during the first week which was over very quickly.

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We didn’t have the same walking pace, and as you can see from the photos, Ella is always in front of me, quite often out of sight.

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I found this difficult at first, but soon realised that we were both happiest walking at our own pace.

We would start the day together and if Ella got a long way ahead, she would usually wait for me to catch up, and we always ended the day together.

I sometimes found it frustrating that Ella was a bit laid back about setting off in the morning, when I would have preferred to get underway sooner, but it never got to be a problem.

I also found it difficult that she didn’t want to take regular breaks, saying that it hurt too much to get going again. Eventually we found some middle ground and I insisted that we take a break when I was running on empty.

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I found I had a lot more strength than I had previously given myself credit for. I could keep going when I felt exhausted and usually the extra distance wasn’t actually so hard as I expected.

An extra 5km at the end of a long day could be done without too much of a struggle.

My daughter and I are quite insular people and although we spent so much time together, either chatting happily or in comfortable silence, I don’t feel our relationship has changed in any profound way. It has always been good and has remained so.

But I feel so honoured that she wanted to share this adventure with me.

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Ella will not be amused that I included this photo, but I love it!

I worked hard at writing my blog every evening, so that nothing can be forgotten, and I will have these wonderful memories fresh in my mind forever.

Things I missed on the camino
Privacy – having to attend to personal matters amongst a crowd of people. This was one of the things I really dreaded before embarking on my walk. It was not so bad in reality, I had to just get on with it and assume that no-one was really interested in what I was doing.

Freedom – which was available in abundance when walking. But in the albergues, the freedom to act as you would in your own private space didn’t exist

Physical contact – I missed the physical proximity of my household. Obviously I missed David, and I also missed the hands-on contact with my animals.

My bed – Oh how I missed stretching out in bed with the freedom to sprawl and turn over without getting tied up in knots by a sleeping bag and liner. I used a ‘mummy’ style sleeping bag to save space and weight, but I would not choose to use one again.

Good healthy food – there seemed to be a diet of pasta and chips on the camino, and hardly a vegetable in sight. It was a real relief when we could prepare food for ourselves.

Hair conditioner – 2 in 1 shampoo is no substitute for conditioner. There are some restrictions in weight that are a cut too far.

Hair straighteners – but however much I desperately wanted them, there was not really time to worry about my frizz and not many opportunities to look in the mirror and stress about it.

and a few of the things that I learned
How wonderful it is to have the support of your friends and family. The comments on my blog were uplifting and provided a real boost for me.

Don’t rely too much on printed information. Lists of albergues included those that were closed. Almost every guide book and map indicated different distances between stages.

If you do enough exercise you can eat lots of chocolate

Wifi is absolutely essential to my well being.

Walking uphill only hurts until you reach the top and then, whilst you are recovering your breath, you can admire the wonderful views from “on high”

I am a lot stronger than I gave myself credit for

Raincoats are not waterproof when wearing a back pack.
It doesn’t matter if you look ridiculous, a rain poncho will keep you dry. By the time I realised this it was too late – there were no more shops.

In normal life I would have to admit to being a little vain, usually making an effort to look my best when I leave the house. But on the camino this was not possible, it was just a matter of keeping my hair tied up and off my face. However my most important packing extravagance was an illuminated magnifying mirror and a pair of tweezers

What would I do differently?
I would take a Brierly guide book.

Happily carry the extra weight to take a camera. The ipad mini was fabulous for so many things, including most photos, but I missed the ability to zoom in on subjects.

I would take different relaxing clothes.

I would search out more interesting albergues, not just stay in the first one with beds available. We did tend to worry about availability, probably unnecessarily.

Take a bigger supply of quality tape for my feet.

But overall I think I got it just about right.

sitting in the park above Santiago de Compostela with the spires of the cathedral in the background

sitting in the park above Santiago de Compostela with the spires of the cathedral in the background

I have rather belatedly realised that I can easily adjust the size of photos in my blog. I would appreciate some feedback – do you think the photos in this post are too big?

the sun sinking into the ocean at the 'end of the world' - Finisterre

the sun sinking into the ocean at the ‘end of the world’ – Finisterre

Posted in Camino assessments and reflections, Camino de Santiago de Compostela | 46 Comments

To be a Pilgrim

Isn’t is strange. I was brought up in a home without religion. I have never been inside a church with either of my parents. And yet I love hymns. I just looked up the words of the hymn ‘To be a Pilgrim’ and they are so familiar and feel very comfortable. This must be because between the ages of 8 and 14 I attended church schools (there was no convenient alternative) and took part in daily religious assemblies, and sang in the school choir at Tewkesbury Abbey for a few years.

As a child I didn’t question this. I don’t remember my parents attempting to influence me in any way. My father was from a strongly Christian family but his faith lapsed as his socialist beliefs strengthened. My mother’s family were Jewish, but as far as I am aware, didn’t practise their religion. My parents’ religion was politics.

As I got older I went to a few church weddings of my friends, but didn’t really encounter religion again in a personal way until my daughters started to attend brownies and I went to church to watch them take part in a Christmas concert. On leaving, the vicar shook my hand and asked me if I had enjoyed the service. I responded that I had enjoyed it a great deal and loved singing the Christmas carols, but as a heathen I felt a bit guilty in taking this pleasure. He told me that I shouldn’t feel guilty and should just enjoy the moment, now and any time in the future, and to keep an open mind about the church.

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However my slight discomfort regarding religion has stayed with me, and I felt very awkward referring to myself as a pilgrim during my camino. However I would regard myself as fair and open minded, and this is why I am writing this post.

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About halfway through my camino I received a comment on my blog from a stranger. I hadn’t expected anyone other than a few friends to see my blog and was quite surprised. This person was taking me to task about my attitude to other caminoists who chose to make their journey in a way different to that which I had chosen. I responded to her briefly to say that I would give her points some consideration and reply more fully at a later date. I am only now getting around to this, although I have thought about it many times.

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Here is her comment:
I have been reading your posts and find them informative, thank you. However, I would not personally have even a little contempt for anyone sending their bags ahead. I have medical issues that would prevent me from carrying a pack… so that might be the only way I’d be able to complete a journey like that. Some people might need to be congratulated for being there at all when physically it might for them be an impossibility. Also, there is no reason for physical suffering to be a requirement. If I did the camino I might skip areas I didn’t like, or send my bag ahead, maybe even skip Santiago. It’s not about a passport filled with the right stamps on the right path or the right way to hike, it’s about a personal challenge being met even if that challenge is, for some people, at a lower bar than for others. One could also do a “way” in Tuscany…or anywhere else…and that would be a similar admirable pilgrimage. I have actually wondered whether a self researched pilgrimage through Tuscany or other parts of Europe might be more visually stunning. In that case someone doing their own trip, self researched and conceived, might frown on camino walkers for taking the road most travelled by without using their imagination, as, if the way has no Christian meaning, hostels and B& B places (many much more lovely than these hostels along the camino) are everywhere, walking trails are everywhere etc. …..I was wondering how those who send their bags ahead do that…. how do they know where they will be or where they will be staying?

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My initial response would be that my blog is written a little ‘tongue in cheek’ and not meant to be taken too seriously. And to answer the last point first, all flexibility is lost by forwarding bags, but there is the comfort of knowing that you will have a bed for the night.

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Whilst walking, Ella and I felt that the only way for us to complete our camino was to walk every kilometre and carry our bags on our backs. Of course, we came across many people who did not feel the need to walk their camino in the same way, as is their absolute right.

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The times when it rankled were when people booked into albergues as foot pilgrims and had their passports stamped, when we had seen them alighting from the bus, and doing the same for several days as we were walking the same stages. These people are actually holiday makers using the beds that are intended solely for genuine pilgrims.

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But if I felt uncomfortable with the title ‘pilgrim’, did that make me just a holiday maker? I guess that must be for individual judgment; and does it really matter anyway?

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What I set out to do was a real challenge to my normal lifestyle and experience. I spent five weeks in my daughter’s company which was an achievement in itself. I felt a huge sense of accomplishment at the end of my journey and wouldn’t have wanted to do it in any other way.

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But that doesn’t give me the right to judge people who choose a different way. And I can appreciate all the points that my commenter makes.

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With time and distance between me and the camino, it all seems a lot less important. Let each walk their own way and if they want to miss the ugly hard slog through the cities then who can (or should) blame them for taking the bus.

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If in the future I decide to walk another camino, I hope I will be less judgmental. But I wrote my blog in the manner that I would chat to a friend, including light-hearted banter and quips not to be taken too seriously.

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I thank my commenter for giving me reason to think all this through and hope that she enjoys her chosen camino as much as I did mine.

He who would valiant be ’gainst all disaster,
Let him in constancy follow the Master.
There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.

Who so beset him round with dismal stories
Do but themselves confound – his strength the more is.
No foes shall stay his might; though he with giants fight,
He will make good his right to be a pilgrim.

Since, Lord, Thou dost defend us with Thy Spirit,
We know we at the end, shall life inherit.
Then fancies flee away! I’ll fear not what men say,
I’ll labor night and day to be a pilgrim.

Words by John Bunyan (as modified by Percy Dearmer for the 1906 “English Hymnal” in 1906)

Posted in Camino assessments and reflections, Camino de Santiago de Compostela | 3 Comments