Where in the world is David today? O Cebreiro

Lord, this is a fight some days! Interestingly enough, I am now in a really remote place, but having a much greater level of success uploading photos and ride data, but the Garmin website is playing up something terrible, so I have just wasted time trying to embed the map. Application of a little intelligence sorted it out though, so here goes with the rest.

Although the famous book says there are steep climbs still to come, the last really long climb has now been and gone, and all on two wheels - albeit with the occasional rest. Whatever anybody else says, it is hard climbing up here. It is long, and it is steep, but boy is it beautiful. The only pity was that I didn't do it a few hours later in the day when it would have been sunny all the way to the top. Instead, the last 400m of climbing (that's a long way by the way) was through cloud that looked like it would never lift. That meant I really couldn't see how far there was still to go, so I just had to keep going into the grey swirling mists and trust the bike computer. In the end, it was under-reading the height because of the weather conditions and I was there before I expected. Three solid hours of climbing, and a lot of energy burned off, but having NOT had a good night's sleep and a lie in, that meant I left at 7.00am and had finished for the day at 10.00am. Trust me, there was nothing to stop and see on the way other than taking a few pictures of a motorway on stilts.

Last night's little St Anthony's Day social at the Albergue Fenix was OK in the end. There was certainly plenty to eat, and we finished up with cherries. They are very much in season, and very cheap, so there were piles of them - enough to make you ill if you were really determined. Yum. I sat between Jen (American) and Alex (English) who have been doing an Erasmus year in Extramdura, and are doing the Camino to round out the year before flying out to their respective homes and working out where their relationship goes next, and two Norwegian sisters (Lill Hanne from Bergen and Sissel Marianne from Stavanger), and we had a great evening. The Australia-Germany match was on the television in the corner with the sound down, so we also saw the first half of the demolition of Australia, but I crept off to bed rather than go to the bar with Jen and Alex to watch more. Football doesn't grab me that much, and my cough was getting rougher - accompanied by a sore throat and feeling more and more like a full-blown cold. That needed taking care of.

As I said, it wasn't a good night's sleep - it is hard to sleep while concentrating on not coughing to avoid disturbing the other seven people in the room, but you wonder why you bothered when one of them gets up at 3.15am to go to the loo and just puts on the light and walks out leaving the door open. That didn't produce a good reaction. Still, I woke feeling alive and well enough to press on in the morning, and was out on the road just after 7.00am. Whether or not it was all climbing, and whether or not it was not particularly remarkable, and whether or not it ended in cloud, I enjoyed the ride because I knew it was carrying me forward on the journey. I approached it without fear, which wouldn't have been the case two weeks ago, and I arrived without feeling I had totally overdone it. I was happy to stop, don't get me wrong, but if I had more miles to do, that wouldn't have been a problem. Numbness in hands and bottom and other forms of discomfort have gradually faded away, and my ability to recover has got better and better.

Still, it was cold on arrival, and I wondered whether there was any chance at all of seeing the famous views from this place. You can see what it was like on arrival from the picture that another kind cyclist took of me by the pilgrim cross on entrance to the village. I wheeled the bike into the village, which you couldn't even see (though it was only yards away), parked it and wandered round. I never even found the municipal albergue in the fog - it was beyond the point where the village petered out - but I found plenty of other possible places to stay which would take me in as soon as I liked (the albergue didn't open till 1.00pm, which would have been a lot of slightly moist hanging around). I visited the church of Santa Maria and got my Credencial stamped (twice for some reason), and spent some time in there, but I cut that short because this is quite obviously one of the 'tourist pilgrim' stopping points where people come by bus or by taxi, and suddenly the church was full of Dutch people taking pictures and talking loudly. Nothing against the Dutch, they could have been any nationality, but the feeling was wrong, so I crept out and went and had the soupiest hot chocolate I have ever experienced in a bar before looking for accommodation.

I had already sized up the various options and decided that this was a night for a little privacy and a little more luxury than the albergue, so I made my way to the Venta Celta and enquired. Yes, I could have a private room, and it wouldn't be any more expensive than my grotty hotels in France. Could I produce my passport please? I popped out to the bike to fetch it, and by the time I got back in, the Dutch had arrived, in force, deciding (like me) that it looked like the nicest place in town, and they were all placing complex coffee orders which meant I didn't get seen to for about 15 minutes after that! Still, never mind, it was worth it. The bike is locked securely away in the garage where the store their veg, and I have a nice room, with a glorious view, a bath and heat! That means my clothes are all now drier than they have been for days, which is a real bonus. That may not last in the morning, but never mind.

A bath was truly welcome, even if it was one of those short, sit-up baths. I think it even helped loosen my chest as I breathed in the vapours. By the time I emerged and made my way to the bar for the pilgrim's menu, the village was even busier, and the sun was out - the cloud had gone, and the views were glorious. Then, halfway through my meal, Lill Hanne and Sissel Marianne arrived. I had half expected some of the walkers to appear, because today I have really only done a single walking stage. In fact, I think this is a stage that is actually much easier for walkers. Anyway, that was a bonus and we were able to have a much longer and more relaxed conversation than last night as we shared our stories, and reasons for being here. They are both what you could call 'reluctantly divorced', and since then have taken many of their holidays together. They aren't twins, they are separated by 10 years, but they are very funny about their matching jackets, matching bags and so on. Both have lived in England (one in Bracknell, where I worked for some years), and both had independently thought and said to each other that they were sure they had met me before, but we couldn't find a link. Still, we made a link today. Because I have now slowed down to rendezvous with Kate on Friday, they will probably be in Santiago before we leave, so we have swapped details and they may give me a call.

I explored O Cebreiro after they left, which needn't have taken all that long, but the views just invite you to gaze and gaze, so I did. The mountains just roll away in waves in whichever direction you look. The motorway on stilts that replaced the old windy road I was using to climb up is visible in the distance as it descends towards Lugo - quite a sight. The church deserved a second look, and was empty this time, so an oasis of peace, calm, and prayer. I climbed up to the viewpoints at either end of the village, I found the palloza houses, unique to this region and still occupied. Do follow the link, they are fascinating. I even explored one of the gift shops, and it confirmed one of the things I had already picked up - Galicia has a Celtic past, which you can read about on the Wikipedia article I've linked.

I am very glad indeed I didn't press on today. It would have been a real shame to miss out on the delights of this unique place, and there was no need. The reasons, if I had done so, would have been all wrong. Tomorrow is a bit up and down, but not without relief, and it even goes a little bit higher (1377m compared to 1300m here), but it is also short. It doesn't take me anywhere particularly interesting, but I am hoping that the cloud may not have descended and I may be able to enjoy the journey more. I am also hoping that my cold may have passed its worst, and that having had a private room, I might at last have had that good night's sleep I crave. If not, there is not long to go now before I have to start finding a new rhythm, without a cycling journey every day. A friend said to me in an email the other day "How will you re-acclimatise to life in the UK after your trip? I know I would find it difficult." That is the question I am starting to ponder, and I am trying to gather up some of the personal threads that aren't in this blog so that the important questions and thoughts aren't lost. These shorter days give me some time to do that.