Here’s What We’re Gonna Do

I ended up hanging out with a lot of black cats in Molinaseca. This guy was lounging outside my albergue, and was happy to get pets despite clearly being an inveterate scrapper.

The smaller cat in this image was hanging out by my chair, enjoying the occasional scritch, while I was doing a little languishing of my own. The bigger one came by and, despite not liking me much, interceded primarily to keep the smaller one from enjoying things. Luckily I met the smaller one again on the way out of town the next morning for some makeup pets.

My albergue was very comfy, and also had a terrific view from its common area.

The next day started by walking through Ponferrada. Here is an angle on its castle.

Stalker vibes (the game, not the movie.)

Stalker vibes (the movie, not the game.)

Part of Ponferrada's legacy is that it is the site of Spain's first coal-burning power plant. To commemorate this it is the home of Spain's National Energy Museum. It also has bits of massive old electrical infrastructure on concrete bases as civic art. You can. . . probably guess what I think about this.

I guess Jeff Bridges wants fast internet when he visits Spain.

Oldboy (2003)

A truly heroic wine press of yore. Grapes of Bierzo would go in the middle and you would apparently stack bricks between the log and something that would cover the grapes. Then you'd crank the whole thing down, and you can sort of see the pool to which the juice flows on the left.

Some vineyards to feed the press.

This day ended at Villafranca de Bierzo, which starts at this castle and descends fairly steeply into a river valley.

The next day starts very pleasantly through the river valley, and ends with a pretty gruesome uphill struggle. Everything becomes much greener as you approach and then cross the border into Galicia.

Here is an ominous decaying house in the mists of the valley morning.

Here is the final beer I enjoyed in Castille and Leon.

Here are the last views away from the Valcarce.

In retrospect, I should have stayed in La Laguna and crested the hill in the morning. O Cebreiro felt kind of perfunctory.

The next day started upwards, but ended with a descent. Galicia starts mountainous and remains hilly, but are slowly heading towards the ocean, which you may recall we use as a reference point for elevation. Here is a church a little past the high-point.

Here is a superseded Camino waymaker, left to remember when it was useful.

Here is a cow just kind of strolling through a village.

Sadly, this does not appear to be a norm. This (and a bunch of other random cows, including one that was really hauling ass and made me duck out of the street) was followed closely by a farmer in a disciplinary mood.

Some more Galician verdancy, leading to the town of Triacastela.

A charismatic drainage tunnel under a road.

A real druid-y tree in a tiny village immediately preceding Triacastela.

It is my sad duty to inform you that despite what you might gather from its name, Triacastela is home to zero castles. The march of time has robbed us. On the upside, I slept here, opposite an undeniably impressive (although not compared to a castle) willow.