This update comes to you live from the lovely little albergue “Domenico Laffi” in El Burgo Ranero. Today´s stage began in Fromista, and my odometer shows that some 85 km has been covered since this morning. Fromista was the first stop since Burgos, so this entry, coming just two days after the one before, sets a new and perhaps dangerous precedence for blog update frequency…

Since Burgos the countryside has been a completely different experience than what I´d encountered previously: a vast, and at times seemingly endless, plain. It is tempting to call it “featureless”, but it is not. Trees are scarce, and therefor shade. The weather has continued hot and clear (although at dinner tonight I happened to overhear a woman ask whether it was true that rain had been forecast for tomorrow; the waitress nodded) — with this kind of weather, and this terrain, the days can seem very long, and very little in the way of intermediate rewards.

My habit in France — call it a tradition — was to take a café break mid-morning as a reward. In Spain it has been rare to find the Camino going through a town with a café; at mid-morning or at any other time of day. Today, in Carrion de los Condes, there were two candidate cafés facing each other. I chose the one that was also a pastry shop, and had a Spanish pastry (I would judge that the Spanish have sweeter teeth than the French) with my coffee: a pastry cone filled with a chocolate butter-cream. I considered it part of breakfast. Mid-afternoon brought a similar opportunity: an attractive tree-shaded café/pastry-shop in Sahagun, an opportunity which just could not be ignored (the results are shown above).

But despite the unfamiliarity of the flat terrain, I have loved the sensation of space and distance. As I think I’ve mentioned: I am not used to having the horizon so far away. At times the land seems like the ocean: a village appears on the road ahead, and there seems to be nothing at all beyond it. Riding across the meseta after Burgos — miles and miles of grasslands — you suddenly find the village of Hontanas tucked into a fold in the earth (above). You come upon it without warning; the dirt road winds down and becomes one of the streets leading toward the inevitable church, an albergue, a bar, a fountain with fresh, clear water running: such a beautiful sound in this setting.

Tomorrow I continue through Leon, and will likely stay the next night at Villadangos del Paramo. Despite my best intentions, and precise military planning, I have timed this stage poorly. Tomorrow is Sunday, which means that my attempt to check for Poste Restante mail in Leon is likely to be foiled. My apologies to any (were there any?) who tried to send me something there.

To close; this incident from the small grocery store across from the albergue. A local woman, coke-bottle glasses, wanting to buy a head of lettuce. The woman behind the counter goes to a back room and returns with a single head. Together they inspect it reverently, gently fold back the inner leaves, and agree that it is fresh: it will do. Next: a pepper — they are as large as a satchel here. Two candidates are offered, and each inspected closely. One is chosen: shopping as a consultative process.

A bientot…