Another of those sublime moments that make the hard slogs worthwhile. From a steep climb through a fly infested forest you appear on the summit of the Via de la Plata, Pico Dueñas, the highest point between Astorga and Seville, crowned by an iron cross.

The wind blows the flies away, whilst the view takes your breath away.  Ahead to the south the mountains of Bejar form a graceful horizon that enchants the eye; looking back northwards to the plains of the meseta however the horizon is an unyielding straight line. The route walked can be picked out nearly to Salamanca.

A quick lunch to savour the view and then it's time to press on. Tarifa lies down there somewhere.

I didn't have any phone/e-mail/modern life coverage last night, so I still need to upload a couple of posts explaining how good things were in San Pedro de Rozados, which has just about the finest pilgrim hostal I've stayed in so far, run, with an amazing amount of dedication, by Nuria.

I'm now heading out to Fuenterroble de Salvatierra, and for the first time since Astorga i'm not heading directly South.
Rather, the route curves south west and in parts is directly westerly. The change in direction is somewhat disorientating. Heading due south I could tell where the sun should be at any given time in relation to me, sweeping up from my left hand side in the mornings directly over my head at 1pm to sink down into the western horizon on my right hand side by evening. Now it's all changed, and as I head due west it's up above my left shoulder and is currently burning my left cheek only. 

The countryside is also changing, there are still some fields of golden stalks, left over from the cereal harvest, but the completely flat landscape of only cereal fields is giving way to tree covered, gently rolling, hills. It's very beautiful. In the distance you can make out, shimmering, the outlines of higher mountains.  These form part of the central mountain chain of the peninsula. I should be crossing these tomorrow or the day after, at Bejar. I did some of my training walks out here in the western part of the central sierra, so i'm very much looking forward to that section.  I must confess as well that whilst the flat plains have a certain stark beauty, their monotony, under a burning Spanish sun, can become quite testing. The greenery of the hills is a welcome relief.

The farm at Bernoy. I was thinking this looked familiar, and after checking with a friend in Madrd I now know why. As I suspected it's where we went for a great birthday party in 2004. It's a beautiful bit of countryside. I'd always hoped I'd see it again, and there it is. It's a shame I don't have time to nip in and see if Magda, whose birthday it was, and whose family own the farm, is there at the moment.

Yet more Scots

I was having a pre walk coffee and snack in Salamanca when a group of folk sat down at a table nearby.  After a while one of them, Bill, came over to ask if I was Scottish. The kilt is a bit of a giveaway I guess.

I went to join them, and had a great time. Bill, originally from Edinburgh, and his wife Mary have fallen in love with Salamanca and spend time here every year now. This weekend they've invited friends to come and stay and enjoy the place with them.

We spent a good while chatting about Salamanca, the walk and various South American adventures. You couldn't hope to meet nicer people. They also got me my lunch and a cold beer, very much appreciated - thanks guys!

No charred bits to report.

Subsequent to leaping over I read in the guidebook that this area has the second highest amount of wild bull farms in the whole region. Had I read that before it would have been a running jump, and no photos.

I'm on the wrong side of that blue line, which believe it or not is electrified. I'll let you know how jumping over goes.

Bea works with me in Madrid, but when she's home in Salamanca for the weekend she helps in the family greengrocers.

Thanks to her and her mother for providing me with copious quantities of the finest fruit Spain has to offer. Exactly what's needed after the mild excesses of last night.

Pre wedding party

Today Ana and Berna (a work colleague of mine) are getting married, so we went out to celebrate last night.

An excellent time was had by all, although I have to confess Spanish nights out, which aren't known for their early finishes, are not the ideal preparation for lengthy walks.

Thanks to Ana and Berna for organising a cracking evening.  Good luck to them for today and may they have a long and very happy life together.

They get everywhere, including Salamanca main square.

In the end I did nearly 50 km yesterday or 30 miles, and having arrived at a one hostal town at 10.15 discovered that one hostal was full. However the owner kindly let me camp in a patch of waste ground he had. So much for my refreshing shower and opportunity to relax and get in a big sleep.

But, I'm now in a little hotel in Salamanca everything's been washed including me, the blisters are treated and the world is looking rosy. Amazing how happy we can be with the basic things when we suddenly go without them, even for a night.

I'm off out to marvel at beautiful Salamanca soon, and maybe investigate new boots, the current ones keep giving me new blisters, which just isn't right, and not only that, they've started to fall apart. I doubt they've 500 miles left in them.

Salamanca!

In all the excitement I completely forgot to give an update on the TV interview front. But indeed, the folk from Tele Zamora came to meet me in the main square in the city yesterday, just as I arrived (so I could look authentically knackered). We did a short interview on the walk, and the reasons for it, as well discussing how it was going. The interviewer was a good laugh and it all seemed to go pretty smoothly, despite the giggling fits in the background from two eight year old boys who found the whole thing hilarious.

I think it's meant to be going out tonight on their evening "What's going on" program. For those without access I'll do my best to get the file uploaded to the blog as soon as they send me it (I suspect this will be beyond the technological capabilities of the blackberry so it might take a wee while, plus, potentially, technological assistance from my support teams in Madrid and London.)

Just after finishing the interview Tele Salamanca called. They too would like a brief interview along the same lines, and appropriately, given their name, we're meeting in the main square in Salamanca tomorrow. I'll keep you posted.

I've gone for it, and just crossed over into Salamanca country. Let's see what time I arrive...

After my previous post regarding the arrow and finding the path I managed to turn unexpected triumph into ridiculous defeat (of sorts). The yellow arrowed path I was on headed way out west, whereas I believed it should be going pretty much due south, if not directly south, as that's the line taken by the national highway, the N630. Eventually as the path continued west I bottled it, and after retracing my footsteps I met a farmer who confirmed that if I wanted Villanueva de Campean, the next village on the route I should head straight south. A mistake as it turned out, the path was the right one, and having headed back the only option left was to walk down the highway.

In general it's not the most pleasant at the best of times, but at the moment they're building a new motorway to replace the national highway, so the whole road is swarming with lorries carrying equipment, concrete, stone and all the vital bits and bobs for building a motorway. Having 5 or 6 massive lorries pass you every minute or so is not the most pleasant way to cross the Spanish countryside. Of course the irony is that when the motorway is finished the national highway probably will be quite pleasant to go for a stroll on, as all the heavy vehicles will be on the motorway.

Anyway after nearly 30 km on the highway I've made it to El Cubo de Vino - alas it's unlikely it's actually filled with cubes of wine. This part of the world is known as the Tierra de Vino, for its history of wine growing and the names of many of the towns are terminated "de Vino". It appears though that not much wine production goes on now though as I haven't spotted any vineyards whatsoever. Still it's a great name.

The question is what to do next. It's still early, I'm not too tired BUT the next town is 19 km away... and due to the motorway construction the normal footpath is closed, which means, you guessed it, 19 more kilometres on the highway. However if I do go I'll only have some 15 km tomorrow to get to Salamanca, which is very tempting.

I'll probably go, and really regret it about 8pm and then when I arrive be glad I got it over and done with. In that case 'd better shoulder the pack and head off.

Oh, re the interview, I did meet Tele Zamora yesterday and did a quick interview in the main square. It went pretty smoothly I think/hope, more details to follow.

And finally, I do see the comments, thanks for all of them, but the blackberry seems to have issues with posting responses, hence my lack of communication, but please keep them coming, it's great to know there are people out there!)

Lost

I'm just leaving Zamora. The guidebook doesn't really explain in much detail this section, because it's written for those coming north, entering the city by the way I'm leaving. And if you're arriving it's pretty obvious where you're going i.e. head for the big old buildings on the hill on the other side of the river. However I'm looking for one path out of hundreds that leave the city to the south.

I'd ended up heading out on a road that appeared to follow what the map indicated, but just kept heading west when it looked like I should be turning south. Time to have a mild panic, because I just can't afford to spend three bewildered frustrating hours getting out of town.   However, all of a sudden I saw this faded yellow arrow. It's the right way after all.

Time to hit the straight trails of the meseta again.

Now this is the business. I think there is a cathedral and a castle (as well as several recently added museums) in there, although I need to do more research. The free map from the Excelentisimo Ayuntamiento de Zamora (the town council, but it sounds a lot better) is great for street navigation but falls down a bit on identifying exciting buildings.

In any case, the roof of the building on the left (which I'm pretty sure is the cathedral) is worth a visit on its own. It's a great, stone carved, many sided, dome and also, rather entertainingly, is covered with about 14 very large storks.

I'm off for more tourist wandering before dinner.

As you can see little has changed although i'm 4 miles or so further on. I did go round a slight corner at one point though.

There's a lot of this at the moment. Pretty much the whole 20 miles today is on straight rocky farm tracks ploughing south across the unrelenting landscape.

The ruined castle of Castrotorafe. At one time the lords of this castle held sway over all the traffic on this part of the river Esla. With a name like that though it sounds as if things were bound to go wrong eventually.

Outside Astorga Cathedral

For those of you who've been following the blog you'll know my old schoolfriend Ross Campbell was out over the weekend to accompany me on three days of the route. He finished his section of the walk on Sunday lunchtime, when we reached Astorga.

Ross has been involved in many of my adventures in the outdoors, from ski-ing to climbing and walking; he also knew my mum from the time we were about six years old and always got on extremely well with her, so it was most appropriate Ross managed to make the journey to take part in the challenge. 

In order to be here Ross had to fly from London to Valladolid, hire a car and drive across the whole of Castilla - Leon into the mountains to find a small village where I would hopefully be passing through at roughly the time he arrived. Then, after actually doing the walking, he had to get a taxi back over the 60 miles we'd covered to re-find the hire car, before driving back to Valladolid for his flight home.  All in all a quite heroic effort, and very much appreciated.

Being accompanied on the walk definitely helps, it's unusual that both people will go through a bad patch at precisely the same time, so when one person is down the other can usually lift the spirits. On the 3,000 ft climb from Molinaseca on Saturday Ross's good humour was invaluable to drag us both up the mountain, especially when the fifteenth false summit revealed itself to be just that, with no idea when the true summit might be reached.

Cheers RC.

There's an explosion of life down by the river, if you didn't know you were in Castilla-Leon you could be forgiven for mistaking this as some Amazonian tributary. I'm having a seat and a drink in this secluded sheltered spot.

Oh, and some good news just in, apparently Television Castilla-Leon would like to come and interview me. The only issue is going to be how they track me down out on the open featureless plains on the other side of this river.

Plaza Mayor Benavente

I'm breakfasting on grilled croissants in the main square in Benavente. The world is looking good after the first coffee of the morning (the only bar in the pueblo I stayed in last night didn't open until about 11, so I hightailed it this morning on an empty stomach).

Whilst the outskirts of Benavente are ploddingly modernly dull the centre is a rather pleasant maze of small streets with occasional impressive buildings, mostly churches.

As you can see from the photo the sun is now well up in the sky, and the day is getting pretty hot. I'd better be getting on before I decide it would just be more pleasant to stay here for lunch, in a nice air conditioned restaurant.

As far as I know this little chimney like edifice atop an earth mound is in fact the ventilation for a traditional underground store house, used to keep perishables fresh in summer. Given that this includes wine maybe it's a good thing Ross has gone or the people of Maire de Castroponce might have had a nasty surprise. 

I've just made it onto the road out of La Bañeza, which passes through a fairly run down industrial agricultural area before crossing a disused and overgrown railway line and leaving the town.

As I was about 500 metres south of the last junction a car came up behind and stopped level with me.

A friendly face beamed out, "are you doing the ruta de la plata?", he shouted. I explained I was, but going down the way, southwards. "ah, I just wanted to check you hadn't got confused", and with a broad grin he executed a smart three point turn and drove back up to the junction before turning off. He'd been concerned enough to go out of his way to make sure I was going  the right way.

Longest day...

By making it to La Bañeza today (6 km more than planned for) I've managed my longest day yet. 44 km or some 27 and a bit miles (I think, doing the conversion in my head).

It was a good advance, but my feet really are feeling the pain now, and worryingly a new set of blisters have appeared. Not only that but they are on skin that had apparently previously toughened up. I was rather hoping it would all be getting better from here on in, to a blister free state of nirvana in three or four days or so. Apparently not, but still, if it didn't hurt a bit it wouldn't be a challenge.

Vanessa and Lisa, the "Aussie birds" I met in Fonfria on Wednesday have been camino-ing for over a month, they started in France, direction Santiago. Total respect to them. They gave me a lot of top tips for the Camino up to where I leave it at Astorga.  They are also a magic, magic laugh.

Marcelo works at the hostal in Fonfria, he's from Brazil, also a great laugh, and a grand host. Marcelo, thanks for the apple!

Fellow Scots!

We just met Jessica. She was only walking this late because she and her friends had their money stolen this morning from a hostal. Hard to believe anyone could stoop so low to take advantage of the pilgrims. What's more amazing is that she greeted us with a friendly smile and was completely interested in the cause, despite what had happened to her.  As ever, buen camino!

The Meseta

Ah. For the first time I can see what awaits on the other side of the mountains. The flat plains of the meseta, burnt brown, reaching out to the horizon, apparently without end. Their immensity is troublingly impressive. Up in the mountains it's been difficult to get an idea of what 50 or 100 miles out across the land might actually look like. From here there are no doubts. It's vast.

The climb up the mountain was like some sort of terrible fairground illusion (all done with mirrors), no matter how high we went and how many "summits" we reached, we never made it to the top.  Eventually, before one of us keeled over in the heat, we took a breather. Lunch, wine and the largest ham and cheese sandwich I've seen in a while (we'd picked them up in the last village); most excellent. Now, to find the end of this marathon uphill slog, it must be up there somewhere. 

A donde vas? Where are you going?

From here in Molinaseca the route lays down a challenge, to climb nearly 3,000 feet (900 metres) to the summit of the pass marked by an iron cross (la cruz de hierro). Looking at the hills it appears near vertical leaving the village, and, heading south-east, we'll be climbing directly into the blinding sun. Should be fun.

All the more reason to gather strength down here in the pueblo with coffees and lemon schweppes.  In fact, Ross, having studied the climb on the map began seriously considering his first red wine of the day.

The rough hewn stone cross in the small plaza.

It's a cheeky drop into the Rio Cúa. Afternoon day 8.

Ponferrada castle

Just outside our hostel is the Knight's Templar fortress. Impressive indeed. Also outside our hostal, as you can see, is a police car. I wonder if news of our arrival preceded us?

A cenar ahora/off for dinner.

Ross brought a pocket kite to keep us entertained. Up on the windy hill above Villafranca del Bierzo is an excellent kite flying spot. The other pilgrims are even more taken aback than usual.

I've just unzipped the door of my extremely small (i.e. cramped) tent. Poking my head out I can see the tree covered slopes on the other side of the river and the sky is a mix of clear blue and light early morning clouds, behind which a half moon floats. Time to get up and find out how the body is feeling this morning.

We're planning to get to Ponferrada today, which is a fairly big town, and huge by the standards of the places I've been passing since I started. But before that there are about 20 miles to cover down the Bierzo valley.

We met Carolina as we trudged along looking for a place to stay last night. Her gorgeous smile gave us quite a lift. Thanks and Buen Camino to her!

Eduardo de Alcalá de Henares

I met Eduardo as I was climbing up the San Xil valley. He did his first Camino in 1976, one of only 40 people do it that year. Things have changed a little since then, you often see more pilgrims than that in a single bar.

We're off to investigate the restaurant and bar...

Ross Campbell has arrived, (I found him, quite at home, in a bar in Vega de Valcarcel) and not only that but he's bearing gifts in the form of an exquisite chocolate brownie, created by his flatmate's lovely friend Maria. Just what was needed to keep going for the last 3 miles, thanks!

After six days and a half in Galicia I've made it to the frontier with Leòn. I've thoroughly enjoyed my time in "land of water", although I was lucky enough to only see one day of rain. Many thanks to all the Gallegos, I'll be back here one day soon I'm sure.

Day 7

It's another glorious morning, crossing the picturesque Galician highlands, in the fresh mountain air.

Last night I stayed in beautiful Fonfria, which has a great hostal, with a slightly hippy vibe, the nicest hosts you could imagine and a fantastic dinner. Four courses and a seemingly never ending supply of wine.

Fonfria didn't have mobile coverage so there are a few things I need to put up from yesterday, but at the moment I need to make tracks because Ross Campbell, who joins the walk today for the long weekend, has landed in Spain and is en route to our meeting point as I post. I'm somewhat behind schedule as I've just spent half an hour dealing with "The return of the blisters", a painful sequel indeed. They've been given a solid popping so hopefully I'll make good progress from here on in. Given Ross's fondness for good spanish red wine I fear for his state if I leave him on his own in a bar for too long.

After a morning spent traversing the delights of the leafy San Xil valley I've arrived in Triacastela. No sign of the three castles for which it's named, rather disappointingly (and having checked the guidebook indeed it appears they are gone without trace). It's not the biggest place so i'm not sure quite why it had three in the first place. I'd say one would more than suffice, and it wouldn't be a particularly big one at that.  So, no castles but there are a plethora of bars and restaurants catering for the pilgrims. The one I've picked wouldn't come up short in the most fly infested bar stakes, but the chorizo sandwich is spot on. And when I tried to buy a bottle of water to fill my canteen (do people still use that word for water bottle? for some reason it sounds like it comes from the 40's) the owner told me I'd be better off filling it from the tap. It's the little touches.

I'd better be making tracks pretty soon as I want to press on and get the miles in today as I seem to be feeling pretty good. It is perfect walking weather which helps, and, maybe more importantly, I took the bold step of bursting two blisters last night. I won't go into the grisly details in case you're eating your lunch, but it was a fairly spectacular event. Who knew a little toe could hold that much liquid? With the pressure off walking is back to being mostly a joy, so I feel I should make the most of it. The big question, can I, should I, will I? make it to O Cebreiro by tonight, it's another 12.5 miles which should be about 3 and a half hours, but it's also a 2,200 foot climb up to there, which will add a couple of minutes I'd guess. Ah, who knows?, the hills the route climbs through look very pleasant so i'm going to head out and see where I end up. I've got everything I need on my back for a night out in the open, so I'm free to do whatever takes my fancy. And a night out under the stars in the green Galician hills doesn't sound too bad.

Se ve bien las montañas detrás del pueblo/ You can clearly see the mountains just behind the village.

The sun's burnt through the mist, and just a few wisps are still lingering on the hills.

It's a misty morning here in Sarria, and actually cold... Crossing the river on the old stone bridge I could see my breath. I should remember this, for when it's 40 degrees in Andalucia.

Donations

Many many people have now donated to the cause and I am truly grateful to every one of them.  My intention was, where I could, to thank each donor personally, but given how crazy organising this got in the last couple of weeks before leaving and the fact that for some people I don't have contact details I realise lots of people have donated and not heard from me. If that's the case then, "Thank you!"

We've just passed 4,000 pounds donated, which with the tax rebate in the UK and the 1,300 Euros my company, Deloitte, are donating means we're very close to, if not over 6,000 pounds.  Wow.

This money will make a huge difference to the National Amyloidosis Centre in their search for a cure.  The hope remains that in a few years time a patient will be told they have amyloidosis, but, unlike now, that they have no need to worry, as the disease is simply a treatable nuisance. Each donation brings that day closer.

Here in Spain I see the donations coming in on the Blackberry and the effect each one has is incredible. Blisters disappear, the next climb flattens out, and the 10 miles to day's end turns into a stroll round the block.

So, thank you.

As the path wends its way into Sarria it passes through thick tangled forest, massive trees line the path and the light is dim, having to pass through many layers of broad leaves. The air is cool (although admittedly this could be because I arrived very late, well into evening, but I like to think it was simply the forest) and the outside world seems far distant, despite being only a few hundred yards away.

These trees are true natives, making up  one of the remaining stands of the forests that once stretched without break across the Iberian peninsula. 

Whilst much of Spain is now completely cleared of trees, Galicia has a fair amount of forest, but these are made up of mainly eucalyptus and pine, with little space for the slow growing indigenous species. As far as I know there are plans to try and change the balance somewhat and plant more of the native trees here in the future. I hope so, I'm sure that as I walked through that ancient forest I heard birdsong I hadn't heard anywhere else in these lands.

As luck would have it I've stopped in a bar just as Argentina took the lead over Brazil in the Olympics, 1-0 (a hint of handball, but it looked legal to me).  And then scored again. 2-0 at the moment. Tempting to stay, but I'd better be off. Oh I say, Ronaldhino just hit the post with a freekick, and Brazil scored from the rebound, but... The linesman, sorry assistant referee, says no. 2-0 it stays.

I'm going crucifyingly slowly today, the end of my little left toe has turned into... well actually I don't think there's a name for it, but it could star in its own horror movie.  It's certainly topping my personal league of blisters of all time, and accordingly is 'nae the comfiest'.

So when I saw, right by the path, this charming dry stone wall courtyard, now turned into a bar and restaurant my willpower didn't even hesitate in running up the white flag, and sent me straight in for a mouth watering cheese and ham sandwich. And a small glass of wine, for purely medicinal purposes, you understand.

At the rate I'm walking I'll be late into Sarria tonight, but it's a fine day, the other pilgrims seem in a chatty mood (the kilt provokes a mild amount of interest), so I'm happy to potter along and keep the monster in the shoe more or less quiet.

Tarde para cenar

Los cumplidos funcionaron, y encontré sitio para dormir en el hostal/bar/restaurante Arenas, en la plaza del pueblo (al lado de la iglesia que, impresiónantamente, se ha trasladado, ladrillo por ladrillo, cuando se construyó el embalse, dejando el pueblo original debajo del agua). El sitio esta muy cómodo aunque me dieron un susto cuando baje a las 11 y pico para cenar. "La cocina esta cerrada", nunca suena bien, y peor cuando te informan que probablemente va a ser difícil encontrar algo ya en el pueblo.  Y la situación ya es un desastre si acabas de caminar 40 kilómetros y a terminar has encontrado con dos ampollas parecidas a un par de globos bien hinchados.  Necesitaba una cena en condiciones para reponerme y levantar el animo.  Mis protestaciónes de "que?!, pero estamos en España!" no tenía ningún efecto. 

La salvación la encontré en el bar Meson de Rodriguez, donde la dueña, con una cara muy sonriente, me dijo, "si todavía estamos abiertos hacemos lo que sea para ponerte algo".  Un sandwich enorme de lomo y queso aparició enseguido, y eso, con una jarra de Estrella Galicia, y te digo que ningún rey ha cenado mejor, nunca. 

Después de cenar, mirando los mapas para la ruta de hoy, y con los gallegos charlando en su idioma musical en el fondo fui directamente, directamente a la cama para dormir 9 horas a un tiro.

Ahora estoy desayunando en el bar del hotel, lleno de peregrinos de bici, casi listo para irme. Hoy me toca sólo 23 km hasta Sarria, que es casi un día de descanso. Antes de coger la ruta voy a comprarme Interviu, porque una amiga me llamo esta mañana para decir que el servidor sale en sus páginas, a ver, a ver.

Buen día a todos!

I've just passed under a crazy line in the sky (1st photo), between cloudy western Galicia (2nd photo) and the nearly completely clear eastern part of the province (3rd photo) . I'd guess pretty much the whole Iberian peninsula south and east of this line is cloud free.  If it stays this way the sun cream will be in high demand tomorrow..

Just outside Palas de Rei.  They're pilgriming to Santiago, and already finished for the day (somewhat jealous of that). Good luck to them! 

Monument

To Alfredo, postman of the village of O Cotos. Simple and beautiful.