Through the Goose Mountains

Dawn after departing Azofra:

Sliding through a series of tubes into Santo Domingo de la Calzada:

I stopped for some refreshments in ol’ Santo Domingo, and if you want to know the state of culture I sipped my coffee to Blue https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_(Da_Ba_Dee), immediately followed up by Take My Breath Away https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Take_My_Breath_Away

(n.b.: Sorry that links are so ugly; I didn’t learn enough about Ghost before I started posting all this, so I’m stuck in the clown-shoes WYSIWYG editor.)

Here is a lovely door from the town of Grañón, where I had intended to spend the night.

Sadly, it would serve as a bit of a metaphor. The albergue in which I pretended to stay was mysteriously unstaffed, and the next town along The Camino seemed to be largely shut down. I carried on until I arrived at Viloria de Rioja, and stayed at the Parada Viloria.

So look, I don’t want to languish in cliches, but Brian does admonish us that we shouldn’t be frightened of them either. The upshot is that this was a great case of apparent adversity producing pleasant results. This was a charming Albergue, and the hostess made us a tremendously restorative paella for dinner. A lovely result, all told.

Belorado the next day: Look, the kitchen’s due for a reno, but you can see the vision.

I found this guy in a town called Tosantos. He was mostly yelling at those road crew guys for handouts.

The ruins of a monastery outside of Villafranca de Montes de Oca:

And the tears that I cried for that woman are gonna flood you, Goose River
And I'm gonna sit right here until I die

The albergue at Villafranca is an annex to a fairly nice hotel. I fell in with a group of fellow pilgrims and had drinks at a truck stop bar, and then dinner at the presumably somew downmarket pilgrim’s dining room. In the spirit of adventure I had mackerel which was good, if bony.

I leave you with sun shining through my truck stop beer.