Zamora – Walking without a donkey

Via de la Plata Camino – Day 20 (Zamora to Montamarta). Monday 9 April 2018. 19 kms.

There was a deal of road walking on this leg of the journey.

Here are predominantly photos as the notes app on my phone failed and all were lost despite it promising to back-up. Aim: to find a way to reinstate it!

Walkers, be careful soon after leaving Zamora, because there are arrows off to the left to the Portuguese camino!

The tracks of the dog who went before me on the path.

Cars stacked up beside the road. There are many car dealers in this area. The *camino* is not all beautiful countryside and olive groves.

In fact, this part has long straight tracks of red earth between arable fields. Cloudy skies herald more rain.

On the cross is a quote from Pablo Neruda: *amar es vivir la existencia desde el corazón del otro* which means something like, we live to love and be loved by others, to be in each other’s hearts.

These statues of fairy tale characters were in someone’s front garden in *Roales del Pan* as I walked through.

St James watches over the children’s playpark.

Big puddles on the *chemin*, and a row of diddy little trees.

The owners of the private hostel Tio Bartolo also have a bar and work at the Covitan supermarket where you get the keys. It looks good in the photos and was recommended by the hospitaliere in Zamora, but I picked up some sort of infection walking barefoot on their floors. There were two American women and myself in the large dormitory under the roof, and we huddled in our beds and in our sleeping bags (there were blankets available). The weak, free-standing heaters which the landlady found us because all our clothes were wet, shorted the electric circuit and anyway, when the husband discovered she had given them to us (because he had to come and switch things back on) he shouted and swore and took them away. There were people in the small rooms downstairs who paid much more than we did (15 euros including breakfast which was left in the cupboards by the long-suffering wife and was not up to much at all).

The hostel was on this street and I would absolutely not recommend it. Run by a kind woman and her angry husband, the rain came in downstairs and it was extremely cold.

Hostels and facilities

There are many facilities in Montamarta including a municipal albergue which had been shut for a while and opened the night I was there, but I had been told it was closed so didn’t try to find it. It is now rennovated and had good reports from the people I spoke to the day afterwards. There were two others mentioned in my book – El Bruñedo and El Asturiano – neither of which were open.

I had decided to go to Montamarta because otherwise it was a very long day (33 kms I think) and the pains I had been having in my feet dissuaded me from such a trek. I found a bar that wasn’t owned by the proprietor, on the main road, and charged my phone. The waitress was very kind, but it wasn’t somewhere I could stay long.

That was a really low few hours, and I used Facebook to send out a message to my friends, ‘Should I just go home?’ Some said yes, some no! I kept on going. And you know what? It got a whole lot worse the next day – in a different sort of way!!

‘But my business is unlearning, not learning, and I’ll change with the world but I won’t change it.’ from Ursula le Guinn’s Left Hand of Darkness.

Via de la Plata Camino – Day 18 (Villaneuva de Campéan to Zamora). Sunday 8 April 2018. 18 kms.

I have lost all my notes for this week and there are a lot of photos for 8th April so there are few words.

IMG_20180408_080923 (640x359) — It was early morning when I set off.

IMG_20180408_074936 (640x359) — I was not the first to leave along the Roman road.

The sun rose on my right. It lit up the lush fields on my left as if it was a different time of day there.

IMG_20180408_081127 (640x359) — This gorgeous light speaks for itself.

IMG_20180408_081737 (640x359) — Right in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere else to do a pee.

IMG_20180408_081748 (640x359) — Just look at the detail!

IMG_20180408_091149 (359x640) — Mini ant mountains all over the path.

IMG_20180408_095330 (640x359) — A traditional skyline on the Via de la Plata camino, Spain.

Calendula (marigolds) and roses in full flower in San Marcial. Red and white cycle path signs reminiscent of the Grande Randonnee in France.

IMG_20180408_104032 (359x640) — Bird foot prints in the clay. There are also dog (or wolf?) ones on all the paths although I only saw one hound running for miles unattended.

Coming into the city of Zamora (‘The pearl of the 12th century’) along the River Duero, close to the border with Portugal in north-west Spain.

IMG_20180408_120408 (640x359) — Fragrant Mimosa.

IMG_20180408_122728 (640x359) — The rainbow colours of the local rock, yesterday seen as pebbles on the path, today making up these walls.

IMG_20180408_122952 (640x359) — Puente de Piedra (Bridge of Stone).

Zamora architecture.

IMG_20180408_123605 (640x359) — The charming Plaza de San Cipriano, Zamora, Spain.

IMG_20180408_134758 (640x359) (640x359) — Zamora Castle, 11th century, Spain.

IMG_20180408_184251 (640x359) — Courtyard at the Cathedral, Zamora, Spain.

IMG_20180408_191511 (640x300) — Zamora Cathedral, Spain.

IMG_20180408_191551 (421x640) (421x640) — Iglesia de los Remedios, viewed between the columns surrounding the Cathedral, Zamora, Spain.

The albergue.

IMG_20180408_123916 (640x359) — When I arrived it was fine, sunny weather, and there was a notice on the door explaining that it would not open for 3 hours.

IMG_20180408_123847 (359x640) — The Albergue de Peregrinos is beside San Cipriano Catholic Church where we left our stuff with the nervous woman while we went off to explore.

Later there was a queue of us waiting at the allotted time and, unexpectedly, it hailed hard. There was only a tiny ledge for everyone to huddle under and not enough space for the luggage, so in five minutes the rucksacks, boots, everything was soaked.

The hospitalera was most hospitable (sorry!). She was a fountain of knowledge having worked there for a long time and she was clearly in her dream job – loving chatting and finding out where we were all from. She had great English and knew what we needed. There is a fantastic kitchen and Marie Noelle had been before us, messaging me to say that she had cooked meals for the Seuil men – one vegan for E and the other with meat for the growing lad. I was very lucky that they shared it with me – a veritable feast.