Stumbling into Hontanas
I woke early to a quiet Albergue and headed to the cafeteria for a cold breakfast of cereal and toast. A quick check of my locker revealed that I'd forgotten my towel, but Tania was awake to hand it to me, and I gave her one last hug before saying goodbye. Stepping out into the crisp morning air, I realized that I had no idea how to leave the city. Without a guidebook or anyone ahead to follow, I found the river and followed it blindly, my panic slowly subsiding as markers reappeared and I spotted other pilgrims in the distance.
The walk out of the city brought me to the green fields and gravel paths I had grown to love, but also a stark reminder of solitude. A cracked pink heart etched into a stone marker perfectly captured my feelings as I left everyone behind. I pushed on, stopping briefly in Tarjados for breakfast and water, then continued through Rabé de las Calzadas, unaware that the Meseta heatwave and swarms of flies awaited me. Yet there were silver linings: hundreds of white butterflies surrounded me on a hill, keeping the flies at bay and turning the long, grueling day into something almost magical.
Hornillos del Camino offered a welcome break. I rested on a bench, enjoyed a sandwich by the church fountain, and sipped a cold beer while soaking up the sun. Beyond the town, the flat Meseta stretched endlessly, barren and filled with flies. False promises of rest stops and shelter buildings wore me down until, finally, Hontanas appeared like a mirage. Nestled below the surrounding terrain, the town rose gradually from the horizon, offering sanctuary after one of the hardest days I'd faced so far.
The joy of seeing familiar faces was overwhelming. Crissi, who had left Belorado days earlier without saying goodbye, stood waiting, and I nearly collapsed into a hug. Bianca and Mauro from Italy joined us, and together we booked beds and relaxed in the afternoon sun, a wave of relief and happiness washing over me. Later, another experienced pilgrim, Ciro, joined our group, sharing stories of his five Caminos and adding to the camaraderie.
For the first time on the Camino, we cooked our own dinner. Bianca, Crissi, Mauro, and I pooled our resources in the small tienda kitchen, preparing a meal that felt both communal and celebratory. The setting sun bathed the rear deck in warm light as we ate, sipped wine, and reveled in the simple joy of food, friendship, and survival. Plans were made to leave early the next morning to beat the heat, ready to face the next stretch of the Meseta, including Boadilla del Camino, with renewed energy.