We’re back to full pilgrim strength rolling out of Ledigos this morning. The weather is not our friend but, on a positive note, we get to see the sunrise.

It seems like we aren’t the only people that are sick of all the wheat as here it has all been cut down. Can’t see we’re sorry to see it go.

I’m not sure if they mature in just a few weeks or if the fields were planted here sooner but there are fields and fields of sunflowers in full bloom.

Around midday (still 10 am in the morning but halfway through our hiking day) we arrive in Sahagún, the halfway point of our journey. It’s a bit surreal that we have left France, crossed a mountain range, marched in parade in Pamplona, ate burgers in Burgos, crossed a plain and, 250 miles later, will soon be in León.

No real pictures today because, well, there was literally nothing to take a picture off. A few quick snaps leaving Carillón de los Condes (which does not mean “dead meat of the condors” as I initially thought) but, after that, for almost 10 solid miles there are no towns, no albergues, in fact no buildings of any kind. It is about as tough going as we have come across here, and that’s coming from a group that hiked over the Pyrenees.

When we finally rediscover civilization, we quickly polish off a half gallon of beer and about a pound of pizza. wiser pilgrims are ending here for the day and enjoying the pool, but we have another 4 hot, dusty miles to go to Ledigos.

Efe Bomba skipped all this fun today (smart girl) but has bounced back from yesterday’s lows and will be back in form for the next leg tomorrow.

Rough day on the trail today. After more of the same grind as yesterday, I fear we may have lost a fellow pilgrim today to the greener pastures of purgatory. Even a grand old church can’t lift her spirits so I know we are in trouble.

It is mile 229 so, if this is the end of the line, it is still a heck of an effort.

For having led them through the middle of a thunderstorm less than 24 hours ago, my fellow pilgrims remain surprisingly trusting. No deserters overnight and only a few rumblings of mutiny in the ranks, mostly from the grizzled veteran of the crew.

Their reward? A quick 500 foot climb right on the edge of town to get the blood flowing. Things don’t get a whole lot better from there, as by 10am the sun is already beating down with the temperature headed for the high 90s.

Three miles out from our destination Efe Bomba has hit her wall and is threatening the lie down in the street and go no further. However, drawing from reserves she didn’t even know she had, she finds the strength to press on. The town of Boadillo del Camino imortalized this moment in a sculpture.

Just over an hour later, we are comfortably ensconced in our air conditioned room, venturing out only for a delicious dinner where pretty much every other pilgrim we say today seems to have gathered.

Inspired by all of the hearty pilgrims we met at dinner last night, Efe Bomba is back on the trail today. It is overcast again with an actual possibility of some rain (who would have thought I would ever be excited about rain?) so, all in all, a pretty good choice as it will mean much more comfortable temperatures. I’d love to say the scenery has changed but it has not.

This whole area between Burgos and León is referred to as the meseta, which I think means Spanish Kansas. It seems like a lot of people rent bikes in Burgos and power through this section since it is pretty easy riding and a much faster way to get through the monotony. We are not that smart, even though we have come to the conclusion we may need to find bikes for a few days at some point if we are going to finish in time to make our flight.

There is not a structure in sight when the rumbling starts and we see flashes off in the distance. We packed rain jackets today just in case, but lightening is a whole other problem. We pick up the pace to try and make the next town but can the storm getting closer. Normally, I’d feel pretty confident I could distance myself from the lady with the two metal poles in her hands but she has an unusual spring in her step and I can’t seem to shake her.

Finally, with no other good options, we make a break across a farmer’s field for some trees to ride things out. The jackets helped keep our packs dry but out pants and shoes are soaked, so when the storm does finally let up, we have a squishy few miles ahead of us.

Just a half mile further on, it turns out there was literal shelter from the storm in the ruins of an old monastery. Most of the building is gone now, but there is a small portion left where pilgrims can bunk overnight and enjoy a candlelit meal (no electricity).

We make the final push on to Castrojeriz. There is an old castle up on the hill but I can find no takers to join me on a mission to check it out. Instead, my fellow pilgrims want to partake of the fastest internet we have had since arriving in Spain to catch up on life away from the camino. I can’t say I blame them as I am at least a week behind on the things in my other life that I promised my staff I would get them.

While Joey and I are on video calls, Nick and Efe Bomba meet up with another guest on the camino for the second time. He is PhD in Buddhism and has some amazing stories to share about his life and some of the people he has met along the way. He tells them the camino calls you back – hard to believe given some of the words Efe Bomba has used to describe it thus far, but who knows?

437km left to go.

The path out of Burgos is far more pleasant than the one coming in but, even so, the wheat fields soon return like a horrible, horrible dream. Mentally, I know there is a wheat shortage seeing nothing but wheat day after day it is hard to wrap my head around. It does explain the amount of bread that shows up with every meal here.

The high point of the day comes at a nondescript little chapel in a no name town along the trail. It is like so many other tiny chapels in tiny towns that were it not for the group of hikers already stopped there we would have passed by without a thought. Inside though, with Ave Maria playing quietly in the background, an old nun greets each pilgrim, asks their name, and blesses their journey. Efe Bomba (who, unfortunately, missed this stop since it is not on the carmino path) is the most spiritual one in our group but, I have to admit, I think I got a little dust in my eye watching the boys. Over hundreds of miles, it is small moments like these that I know we will all remember.

Our day ends in the village of Hornillos del Camino. We never see anyone in towns like this, no cars on the road, no kids riding bikes, and many of the “buildings” are just the front wall, with nothing but open space behind them. It could be a Hollywood set, like we’re all on the Truman Show (we’re not on the Truman Show, are we?).

This is our first stay in what I consider a real albergue. Efe Bomba and I have a private room but the boys are bunking in a room full of randos and dinner is family style. Social butterfly that I am, I actually enjoy it. The host cooks up a mean paella and we get to know some interesting people, hearing the stories of their journey. Shout out to the family shepherding their three pre-teen daughters. And I thought I did really dumb things.

We’ve planned a well-deserved rest day here in Burgos, even though it further complicates our ability to make it to Santiago de Compostela in time. I blame it on my fellow pilgrims to anyone that will listen, but the truth of the matter is that I may not be Benjamin Button (I stress MAY not be). Of course, just because we’re not leaving the city that doesn’t mean I’m able to post up in the hotel. Still plenty to do.

Efe Bomba is still down for the count so the boys and I start at the cathedral. Every town we pass through here has a big, old church but Burgos and León have by far the biggest and we could the tower of this one for miles walking in yesterday. It doesn’t compare to St. Peter’s or Sagrada Familia, but this is the first time the boys have seen anything like it and it is fun to watch them take in the scale and history.

Nothing impresses them more however than this – a pizza vending machine we find wandering down a side street in the old town. Swipe your card and 3 minutes later, out slides a hot pizza. How can a simple cathedral compare with that?

We spend the rest of the afternoon tackling the the finest Burgos has to offer, including the restaurant that serves only one dish – four mushrooms stacked on a slide of bread – and grabbing a photo with the giant sausage.

After days of packing and repacking luggage, and then dropping a small fortune to ship it from town to town, we’ve also come to the conclusion that pilgrims don’t really need too many collared shirts or pairs of shoes. So, for $100, we use the post office to box it all up and ship it straight to our hotel in Santigao de Compostela. Having expderienced the USPS, it is a shockingly friendly and efficient process. This part anyway. I guess we’ll find out in three weeks if it actually works.

We cap off our time here with, what else, burgers (because it’s Burgos, get it?).

Back to the trail tomorrow.

It’s funny how things work out sometimes. Efe Bomba managed to pick up a bug somewhere and after a pretty sleepless night is cabbing it to our next stop in Burgos. Arándano Joe is also staying behind as her sherpa and it would be foolish to not leave everything heavy in his capable hands. So, after days of grinding through wheat field after wheat field, puzzling over why, after more than a thousand years of pilgrim’s walking this trail, nobody has bothered to plant a few shade trees, Nick and I find ourselves walking through the forest with just water, sunscreen, and a few extra layers in our packs.

Just a few miles in we come across a random spot where people have painted all kinds of fallen trees and branches. OF course it is the one day we don’t have our piano player to entertain us.

[pics]

As it is just the two of us and we are traveling light, Nick was able to convince me once again to double up and push all the way to Burgos today, a minor 39km hike (how quickly I have forgotten the misery of dragging myself into Pamplona). That is quite far down the road yet though so still smiles all around.

As the heat starts to rise the going gets a little bit tougher but, just when we need a mental pick up, we come across this exceptional portrait hanging on the front of a small barn on the outskirts of the village of Agés. It would make a wonderful addition to Sam’s growing collection but, sadly, we are but humble pilgrims with no way to transport such a masterpiece.

Finally, after 9 long hours on the trail, we arrive in Burgos. It is a brutal first impression grinding three miles through the industrial zone but the payoff is a break from the albergue life as Efe Bomba has located an outpost of her beloved Marriott just around the corner from the cathedral.

Each big city feels like a major accomplishment on our journey so arriving in Burgos seems like cause for a celebration. Nick volunteered to pick up the wine.

The days are starting to repeat themselves a bit now. The scenery is much the same. The four of us starting off together is the same. Two of us going carmino around mid-day is the same.

Only the names of the towns have changed, this time ending in the small village of Villafranca Montes de Oca. It is just a handful of buildings with a grocery store that is open two hours each day, but it is enough to round up the ingredients for another (slightly less tasty) pasta dinner in the shared kitchen of our albergue. Still, we’re one step closer to Santiago de Compostela.

The big news today is that our very own Efe Bomba is celebrating a birthday. I’m pretty sure it is a long time wish of hers to spend that special day hiking through some wheat fields, so I’m super excited that we are finally able to make that happen. She looks really excited, no?

The boys also pose in the cheesy cutouts but it is only later that we notice the graffiti on Nick’s. I call this piece, Sir Chinballs and his Trusted Squire.

Our actual plan is for the birthday girl to split off after just a few miles and kick back early at the hotel. So, after second breakfast, Nick and I walk her and Joey to the bus stop and press on with our journey. We have given it a name now when she switches to the bus or a taxi – doing the carmino.

It feels like we are traveling in a bit of a pack as we mostly see the same people whenever we stop. Today is no different, and as we stroll into Santo Domingo de la Calzeda, the cafe tables are full of people I mostly know by place names. There’s Vermont, Arizona, a couple of Chicago’s, and a whole group of Washingtons. No Canadians yet, but I’m sure they are out there somewhere.

This isn’t the “official” stop for this stage, but it is a bigger city and we wanted to have some options for a celebratory dinner beyond just the Pilgrim Menu at the hostel. We make our way through the old city, stopping for a tour of the cathedral and bell tower along the way.

The view is great but, having learned the hard way in Italy, we’re careful where we are standing at 7:45 when the bells chime to mark the quarter hour. Of course, at 7:47, just as I am taking this picture, a different bell in the tower rings 13 times (wtf?), leaving a streak in my shorts and almost sending my iPhone plummeting 200 feet to the cobblestones below.

All in all, a pretty good day. Having Sam with us would have made it a perfect birthday but he feels close by as we dig in to pizza, pasta, and tiramisu.

Happy Birthday, Baby!