Day 13: San Juan de Ortega to Burgos, 26 km

I began today at a truck stop. For a while I walked under clear skies. It's Saturday, and I was on the road to Agés, a tiny village, being passed by vehicles hauling trailers full of barking hunting dogs.

Just beyond Atapuerca, it became foggy again. I left the town, and began a climb that ran along a barbed wire fence with signs saying it was surrounding a military area. KEEP OUT! Between that and the fog and remembering the hunters, I was, for a time, concerned about the risk of being shot. I do have (and was wearing) a reflector band that I wrap around my arm. I also had on a lot of red, plus a bright orange strap that I use to carry a bottle of drinking water (unlike in Luxembourg, I don't need to have a whole day's worth with me because there are fountains with potable water, clearly marked on my maps, at regular intervals). Still I whistled tunelessly and sang to myself, just in case.

I could hear bells at times -- the sort one would find on livestock -- and there was a lot of evidence that sheep were recently where I was walking. No one would hunt in a sheep pasture, right?

And suddenly the fog cleared, and I could see Burgos, about 14 km ahead.

Things moved along uneventfully until I opted for a route my guide suggested "minimized asphalt." My feet were already taking a beating from the weight of the backpack and so much time on the road. What I didn't expect was to be slogging along muddy farmer tracks. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

And then I made a wrong turn and wandered off course for about half a km until a kind man walking his dog set me straight.

By now my feet were killing me, but there was nothing to do except plod on, and on, and on until I finally reached the city of Burgos and my little hostel.

The fellow working the reception desk gave me a map of the city and some recommendations for dinner. By the time I had washed my (very muddy) things and rested a bit, I was too late to go in the cathedral. But I found a pharmacy and weighed myself (now down a kilo from what I weighed in Luxembourg), gimped around a bit, had a glass of wine and a tapa, and found the place he recommended for dinner: a bustling little bar/restaurant. I got in just before the rush and sat at the bar where I could see all the action in the grill area. I ordered a sangria so big I couldn't finish it and a plate of fried eggs, potatoes, and what they call picadillo, but which wasn't at all like the Cuban version. Again, too big to finish, but by then I had finally warmed up, studied my map, and successfully navigated my way home.

Tomorrow is slightly shorter, at only 21 km. I took two Advil, and hope my feet recover in time for that walk. I tend to feel good for about the first ten km. I'm not seeing any great improvement in my physical capabilities, but I continue to hope. I can't imagine ever feeling spry enough to undertake a 30 km day. Not with the backpack anyhow.

Lots of love to all from Burgos!


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Location:Burgos, Spain