Long Miles, Big Rewards
Before the sun had risen, we packed our bags in the hallway, navigating the clutter left by other early risers. Locked doors threatened to slow us down, but after some creative exploring through the kitchen, we were finally free to hit the trail with our head torches on. Darkness shrouded the early miles, making the walk strangely faster, and our small group, Bianca, Crissi, and Maddy, marched steadily into the hills.
As dawn broke, the sky turned a soft pink, revealing the ruins of the Convento de San Antón. The massive arches of this once grand pilgrim hospital framed the road perfectly as we approached Castrojeriz. Crossing groves of trees and a small river, the town appeared ahead, its church towering over the surrounding houses. Bianca showed off her barista skills at a café by the church, giving us the perfect caffeinated boost before we tackled the day's major climb.
The Roman road led us to Alto de Mostelares, a steep incline that left us breathless but exhilarated. The descent was rough on my knees, yet the flat paths afterward allowed us to find a rhythm once more. We stopped at Fuente al Pioja to rest, enjoy snacks, and soak in the sun. The San Nicolás Chapel tempted us with the idea of disconnecting completely, but the pull of the trail was too strong to linger. Crossing the Rio Pisuerga marked our entry into the Tierra de Campos region and Palencia province.
With music in our ears, Maddy and I power-walked the sunbaked gravel paths, finding cadence in the rolling hills. Itero de la Vega offered a refreshing lunch with hot sandwiches and cold beer, giving us energy for the long stretch ahead. Shade was scarce on the path, but the rhythm of our poles and the scenery kept us moving, mile after mile, until we reached Boadilla del Camino, the perfect stop to rest our legs.
The push to Fromista tested us even further, nearly matching the distance of our previous stretch. Walking along the abandoned Canal de Castilla, we finally arrived in town around three in the afternoon after nearly ten hours of continuous movement. We checked in, found a comfortable place to stay, and celebrated with the World Cup on TV alongside Camino friends. Though we knew our legs would protest tomorrow, we felt accomplished. Crissi and Bianca had taken a gentler pace, camping at Boadilla, and we would reunite in Carrión, the gateway to what I had heard was called "The Wasteland."
The day was long, exhausting, and beautiful. Every mile carried its own challenges, from steep climbs and relentless sun to the joy of rolling hills, historic ruins, and the shared rhythm of a perfect walking companion. Even as fatigue set in, the Camino reminded me why I kept moving forward: the journey, the scenery, and the small moments of connection made every step worthwhile.