After sweet breakfast provided by the hostel (which meant I got two cups of coffee for a change), we had a 7 km climb to start the morning before we arrived at La Cruz de Ferro, the Iron Cross, a classic symbol of the Way of St. James. It was a moment I had been anticipating for a few days, and I have to admit I was a little disappointed. The cross itself was impressive, and the pile of stones representing pilgrims' love and blessings was enormous. However, its proximity to the road meant that there was a traffic jam of pilgrims (bicyclists, walkers, and those who had arrived in vans) waiting at the cross when we arrived. We took our time and waited for most of the cyclists to clear out. Then, almost unbelievably, two remaining guys pulled out a remote control helicopter equipped with a video camera and started flying it around the cross, stirring up dust, and whirring like a weed whacker. It was a little surreal. In between fly-bys we managed to sneak in a turn at the cross, leaving a few mementos and memories of our own.
From there we moved along, anxious to begin our descent. We had to stop for a few more cute baby animal visits along the way (you'd think we did not have baby animals in Vermont). We really enjoyed the change in scenery from the arid, roadside route we have been traveling. It felt like we were in the Alps. Purple flowers covered the terrain next to the trail. The path was narrow and rocky, and it got steep quickly. By the time we walked into the village of Acebo for lunch, our toes and knees were screaming for a break from the downhill. We ate a quick lunch and headed down some more. Just two hours after lunch, we strolled into a little mountain paradise called Molinaseca.
The first treat was finding an enormous mulberry tree/bush just outside of town. The kids stuffed themselves with berries and came away looking like they had committed some kind of heinous crime. Then we strolled over a medieval bridge over the rio Meruelo, where the river water has been dammed to form two beautiful natural swimming pools, complete with ladders and a smooth concrete bottom. We knew that a swim was in store just as soon as we found a room.
And that is where the fun began and our luck ran out. Last night we were offered herbs from the herb garden and fed breakfast in the morning. Tonight, however, would be a different story. The municipal hostel was full. The back up plan was full. On the third try, we found ourselves in the lobby of a classy- looking hotel with white furniture (mind you all three kids looked like axe murderers at this point, and I looked as though I had been rolling around in the desert for days). The lady behind the desk looked up at us with disdain and reluctantly said that there were four beds in the hostel. I coughed up more money than I have had to pay for a room in three weeks, and she pointed us out the door, across the street to a small house behind a fence. We got the last four beds in what feels like a bad college apartment situation (except all of the occupants are decades past college). There are three rooms with four beds in each. Brianna and Nolan managed to get into a room together. Foster is in a room with three other pilgrims, and I have another room with three over-aged roommates. There was no one in my room, so I went into the kitchen to check things out. The sign on the door welcomed us to use the stove, but there would be a fee of 2 Euros for the gas canister to make it work (and that would have to be retrieved from the friendly lady at the desk in the lobby of the hotel). Foster came out of his room rolling his eyes. "Oh boy. This is going to be great. There's a large lady on the bottom bunk of my bed, and she's not wearing any pants. It seemed a little awkward to stay in there." I agreed that might be slightly awkward, and we decided to hang out in the living room to wait for the bathroom to free up. That's when my bunk mate exited the shower half-clothed. I can almost assure you that he will be snoring up a storm tonight. Naturally I am on the top bunk of one of those bunk beds designed for Barbie dolls that shake like there is an earthquake whenever someone over 15 pounds rolls over. I can't wait to gracefully haul myself into bed tonight. I guess there is a positive in the situation: I could be on the bottom bunk when it all comes crashing down. Alas - another Camino experience to file away, and another reminder to get up early and hit the road, so we have more sleeping options at the end of the day.
With little reason to hang out at the hostel, we were quick to head back into town for a dip in the frigid mountain waters that were streaming into the swimming "pool." Nolan and Brianna were the bravest. My toes had brain freeze before my brain even realized they were in the water. Nolan actually did some jumping from the wall and survived the heart-attack temperatures to climb back out again. We enjoyed snacks by the river for dinner (not wanting to mess with the scary lady with the gas canister at the hotel) and came back to the hostel for a little WIFI before bed. I can hear a rumbling emanating from my bedroom as I write, and I am losing enthusiasm for the whole sleep effort before I have even scaled the ladder of death to my sleeping bag rolled out on a mattress I would prefer not to see. Some days I think I'm just a little too old for this pilgrim experience. I just want to be a pampered pilgrim. Is that so wrong? Pray for me.
Oh my goodness Jennifer. I'm so wondering if you slept at all? I'm beginning to think that I could never do this.
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