December 8th 2014 Villambistia 22 km.

8- 12- 2014   |  
Harrie Huijben
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Villambistia center, with trough Villambistia center, with trough 

Jeneverbes in heidelandschapJuniper in moorland  Obstacle to just A narrow bridge is an obstacle to deal with

Voor de foto ff vastgebonden

wacky colleague. Walking route for the 20th time Wacky colleague, who is walking the route for the 20th time

  Landscape. In distant snow on mountains Countryside. In the distance snow on mountains

another landscape. Pilgrim jumps into the picture. (Narcissist!) another landscape. Pilgrim who jumped into the picture. (Narcist!)

Villambistia, today's goal in sight Villambistia, today’s goal in sight

Today only 22 km. to go For all three of us a distance to laugh at. So ha, ha.
Last night the landlady spoke to me. “Siete” (7), she says. She might mean to say that the food is ready, or that the heater in the room will be turned on for a few hours, or may be she asks me to sit down, because that’s what it sounds like. All these are positive things, so I just answer “si” and think: I’ll see what happens. Siete, a ora (7, now). Si, si, I answer again and ask her whether she means “comer” (eat). No, el albergue. Oh, of course she wants to know what time I will leave tomorrow. Si, si, cerca siete (at about 7). No, exacto 7, she says. Yes, do I have to take off tomorrow at precisely 7? Finally, it appears that she wants the 7 E for the night. Why not just say so! Some people here speak Spanish so bad! To be continued.
Agès was / is a beautiful village with lots of original houses and, of course, a beautiful church. Taking pictures was not possible because I arrived in the dark and left again early this morning. Toeday was a nice walk , while among other things I was looking forward to the company to come for the next weeks. One of my reveries was about my hobby, landscape. Large coppice forests, especially small oaks, between remnants of heath, and much juniper. A shrub that is characteristic of not well kept heathlands gradually changing into woods (see photos). So here too, like in our country a few decades ago, vast heathlands, that become woodlands because of extinction of the sheep industry. Also many grassslopes and grafts are no longer maintained and being covered with shrub. I always am impressed, how a culture of a few thousands years old farming and livestock gets lost during the last 60-100 years. Hence the associated housing, traditions, language properties, plant and animal species. A pity? I always thought so, but it goes the way it goes. Panta rhei. Be happy!
I like (picture) the rolling hills . All morning it was nice and sunny. Far away snow on top of the mountains. It could be much worse!
On my way I have to pass such a pincing narrow bridge again (photo), with which they try to resist pilgrims with a horse. We could squeeze through (see pictures). The oncoming pilgrims are invariably greeted with ola, buen dia, buen camino, even the many Korean pilgrims say so, sometimes. But I met one real pelegrino. Hey, congener! Photo. How is it going with such a dog? He says he’s been having the dog with him since only three days. I walk the Camino Frances, which is from the French border to Santiago, now for the 20th time and I wanted some company. Better such a snoopy than some tame owl! There are strange fellows among the peligrino’s.
I hear a strange sound, such a repetitive beep-whistle, that I know of garbage trucks. Here, in the heatherwood? Two hunters with three dogs, without any loot. Says the elder of the two greenmen: I also went to Santiago on horseback. That immediately created a bond. Some tussling. I ask, why does your pointer wear a band that always whistles? That’s because he has to walk with his nose lifted in the wind to catch the air of the game. He is not intended to be a trail follower. Every time when his nose goes down to the ground, the band begins to beep. Well, today you won’t catch much, I thought, because I heard the wistle squeaking all over. Yes, there is quite some humor on my way.
Association with the past, when I, as a kid joined Dad when he went hunting with friends. One of the hunters, accidentally, shot his own dog. He thought he had seen a fox. The animal had to be killed on the spot. How do I tell my wife? We tell her that the dog got a hart attack. Years later I heard that same hunter, died of a heart attack while hunting. I furrowed my eyebrows.
In the middle of the forest I reach a hamlet with a beautiful monastery. Around it some farmlands. Thus, the rots must have originated in the early Middle Ages. They were doing repairs to the church-monastery complex. My taxi driver in Burgos told me, that the construction of a new motorway there stopped years ago, due to the lack of money. Much of what is being built here at the monastery is done with international (European) money. But it also is of international historical importance, very beautiful.
At Espinosa Del Camino a man who was working in his garden beckoned me. I walked with a donkey from the Mediterrané to the Atlantic Ocean, along the Pyrenees. Can I help you? No, I said. He took a roll of dry biscuits for the horse and for me and a note of 5 E. Not necesary, I say, neither money, even no horse cookies. I feel treated quite similar to a horse and look of course, like a pauper. At home I do not eat these dry cookies. Here, maybe neither. Depends on what I’ll get to eat this evening. I saw you the day before yesterday in Burgos with your horse, the man said. I expected you to pass my village today, he had thought the day before. And indeed I did. Thanks a lot for your compassion, I said.
And then of course today’s top: Our Yvie on line. I could not reach her on her birthday, the day before yesterday. Of all 6 employees she is one of the six most beautiful and nicest, so very much worth an international call. Yvie, cumpleaños, congratulations in Spanish.
And while I am writing this, my landlady warned me that children are at my horse. Watch out, she says. I had left Leon just outside the village on a field, grazing, because tonight pony Leon may sleep in the living room of a house under construction, next to the inn where I’ll sleep. Although dry, but of course without anything to eat. First I want to quickly finish this blog and then I’ll go and check Leon on the field. No children at all. Nothing wrong. Is this why I had to get wet again?? Thirty min. later the same song. Some men in the bar had seen Leon tangled in his rope. That has happened so often. Leon allready knows how to handle that. But I had to go in the rain and look again anyway. Again wet shoes, wet coat, loosing the place I had conquered in the very crowded cafetaria. From afar I saw that there was nothing wrong. People, leave me alone, please. Everywhere I go I hear perro (dog), caballo and sometimes ollandes. I believe today I am village talk. Tosca already is on its board, in the empty living room, where I soon will bring Leon too. No glass yet in the windows, but anyway the animals have a shelter, and they have each other. Tomorrows inn will receive horse and dog too, the present landlady assured me. And she can know, cause she has 20 years experience with her bar-lodge at the pilgrim route. Reason for extra joy. As opposed to last night I sleep alone in the house again.

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