Where in the world is David today? Sarria

Let me start by answering a question that I was asked in a comment on the last blog entry: "How are you getting home?" The answer is, by Ryanair to Stansted with my dear wife, and then in the car! There are a few people who travel home the way they came, but they are few and far between and they have much too much time on my hands and far steelier thighs than I do. There are a few bits of this route that I really would NOT want to do in reverse, and one of them - 12km of rapid descent at 7% - was today. Perhaps there is some real significance to the return from pilgrimage being done in the same way, but I am quite happy to use modern means on this occasion. I hope nobody is disappointed by that!

Let me give an account of today then, starting with the report that it was a wild night. I closed the shutters but left my window open just a crack so I could hear it, and when the window blew wide open I felt it too. Nevertheless, I got a pretty good night's sleep, as I had been hoping, and woke reasonably refreshed and with my cough in a less annoying phase even if my chest was feeling ropey. However, with the wind still blowing, and the rain still coming down, and thick fog shrouding the place, I felt less than enthusiastic about starting the journey. Obviously others felt the same, and even breakfast was served an hour late. I have to say that Spanish breakfasts don't do any more to set me up for the day than French ones: I need more of a carb input ready for the ride. Toasted Galician style bread is even harder work than some other kinds, too, and I am not really a cafe con leche kind of person, though I need more volume than you get with a cafe solo.

It was nearly a quarter to eight by the time I left - really late by the standards of this pilgrimage, and I was plunged into a real pea-souper. I had put on my reflective waterproof gear and all the lights I had brought, so at least there was a good chance of being seen, but it wasn't a good way to start the journey. The rain had stopped falling, but I reckon visibility was well below 25 yards. Thankfully there was very little traffic, and any cars I did meet were being equally careful and considerate. The first 8km were largely climbing, with occasional descents, and I am sure (though I couldn't see) that from time to time that took me over those little 'nicks' where the wind whistles through. The slower you are going, the less stable the bike is, and the more susceptible to sudden gusts. That isn't very nice when you can't see far, and what you can see is hard to interpret. At one point I dropped far enough to glimpse through the cloud to sunny areas below and to the south, but the road went straight back up again to 1337m (the bike computer was under reading again) and I am sure the cloud base was lower to the north, where I was heading.

To be honest, it was the only time on the journey when I have been frightened. Main roads packed with trucks weren't as bad. Paris wasn't as bad. London certainly wasn't as bad. Twice I actually just had to stop. Once it was because I just couldn't trust my eyes and needed to take stock. The second time it was because of a blast of wind that nearly knocked me off. What had me really worried was that after the first 8km, a long descent of 12km began, with hairpins later on, and obviously I would be going faster without having too much choice about it. For that reason I was really glad when I reached the cloud base at about 1150m just as the hairpins were about to begin. The wind was still a bother for a couple of km, but it still wasn't raining, just damp, so the rest of the ride down to Triacastela could even be described as exciting. The book advises that you stop every 2-3km to cool down the wheel rims from all the braking, but that simply wasn't necessary with a temperature of 5C over that portion of the ride (the average today was only 8.8C). The two pictures both show the view just after emerging from the cloud, including the first of the hairpins, just in case you were thinking this was as bad as it got and wondering what the fuss was about!!

Let me pause for a couple of reflections at that point. I found myself musing (during the parts of the fog where I could think about anything at all) on the fact that the higher up I was, the less distance I could see and the harder it was to keep going. That seemed like a metaphor for life. I also reminded myself of something that had come to mind once before on the pilgrimage - the words of the Benedicite Omnia Opera, one of the canticles from Anglican Morning Prayer (also used by Roman Catholics in the Liturgy of the Hours, and by Lutherans). Let me include a few verses:

Bless the Lord all rain and dew:
sing his praise and exalt him for ever.
Bless the Lord all winds that blow:
bless the Lord you fire and heat;
bless the Lord scorching wind and bitter cold:
sing his praise and exalt him for ever.
Bless the Lord dews and falling snows:
bless the Lord you nights and days;
bless the Lord light and darkness:
sing his praise and exalt him for ever.
Bless the Lord frost and cold:
bless the Lord you ice and snow;
bless the Lord lightnings and clouds:
sing his praise and exalt him for ever.
O let the earth bless the Lord:
bless the Lord you mountains and hills...

I found myself making up verses for a second time today, and wondering whether pilgrims in times past would have done the same - either chanting the original words to hold onto a sense of God's blessing (and blessing God) or competing with each other to come up with new ones. It was a help to me today again. Another thing that has helped from time to time has been to think, not in terms of miles or km, but familiar journeys: oh, it's only another Wolviston, or oh, it's not even a Bishop Auckland to go now. That has occasionally made things feel much more achievable, and on that score, tomorrow is four Darlingtons, and the day after is about the same.

Anyway, returning to the narrative, it was, as I say, an exhilarating (if cold) swoop downhill to Triacastela and then a lovely ride along a heavily wooded valley to Samos and then Sarria. At Samos the monastery looked closed, but apparently it wasn't, so I missed out on something quite outstanding (and a very large and attractive stamp in my Credencial. Still, never mind. I was enjoying the ride. Sarria gets a pretty poor write up in 'the book' - a sad town built around a single main street. What the author fails to mention is that the albergues (he mentions only two, but there are at least eight) are clustered up in the attractive old town. The main church up there is nothing to write home about, but there are some attractive corners and a curious 'pilgrim prison' (see photostream), presumably for naughty pilgrims.

Due to some good signs, and the 'conch' rating system (rather like Michelin stars for albergues) I was able to find a two-shell-rated private albergue with WiFi, which is extremely comfortable (and still only €12), and I can smell lunch cooking now as I finish up this blog entry. I plan to spend the afternoon resting and catching up with reading my book on the cultural aspects of the Camino. Today's curiosity photo is of what I call roof tiling, crazy paving style. Today's word (we haven't had one for a while) is anticipation.

P.S. I will have another curiosity picture to post later. A second cyclist has just arrived - Nick, who has ridden from Holland - and he asked whether I had seen the man on the road with a wooden figure of Christ on his back. I hadn't. Apparently it alone weighs 21kg, so we both think he must be carrying it as some kind of penance. When he gives me the picture after lunch I will add it to this post.

P.P.S. I have been meaning to remind you that you can find more information about my ride each day by clicking on View Details on the map that I embed. I also wanted to point out that it also gets more interesting and informative without even leaving the blog by clicking on the Terrain button.

P.P.S. The sour note about today is that the ATM ate my bank card. I've noticed before how sluggish some continental ATMs are in putting the card back out. This one didn't put it out far enough to get hold of other than with pliers or tweezers (or perhaps long finger nails, but I cut mine). So, it pushed it out, took it back in, and so on for three cycles and concluded I was never going to take it, so it pulled it back in and kept it! Grrrr. Time for a new card and some online banking so I can get at money again.