I don’t want to sound obsessed but at 3 degrees when we left the hotel this morning it was bloody cold. For the first time this trip my hoody came out of the pack – and for the first time this trip I didn’t regret carrying it.
Soon after leaving Astorga we took a detour to see a tradition margata town. The margatas were red-haired muleteers whose town was destroyed by catastrophic flood several hundred years ago. Rebuilt, the town is a beautiful place of solid stone houses and winding streets. We’re not sure of the recent history but the town shows every evidence of having a lot of money spent on it recently.
Re-joining the official Camino, we stared walking through forests of oak and pine trees. Our world’s color palette has shifted from the golden yellows of the last couple of weeks to deeper greens stretching up into the hills ahead of us. The Camino itself has moved from the flat, smooth track of the last weeks back to eroded, rocky and broken. The towns have changed too. No more the apartment buildings in the middle of fields. Instead there are sold stone houses facing winding streets instead of plazas.
Just over 21km brought us to Rabanal del Camino which is built up the side of a hill. We know that because out hostal is the last one in the town and our legs did not thank us for the last kilometer up the hill. Apparently we have recovered though, because Jennifer now wants to walk back down the hill to see a church.