The Wasteland: 39 Kilometers of Gravel, Sun, and Sweat
Want to know a great way to start your day? First, buy some liquid deodorant when you get into town the night before, then shake it vigorously the next morning, preferably not in the direction of your eyes. Half-blind and puffy-eyed, I reluctantly put on my glasses and prepared for what would become one of the longest days on the Camino.
At 5:30 a.m., Crissi and I left Carrion de los Condes, bound for the stretch some call The Wasteland. We followed the ancient Roman route, the Via Aquitana, across fields where yellow plains met distant green trees, the white gravel path stretching endlessly ahead. With little to see or do, we kept our heads down and focused on walking, grateful for the clouds that kept the temperature bearable.
After 3.5 hours and a single stop at a small bench area, we reached Calzadilla de la Cueza. Halfway to Santiago already! But once breakfast was finished, the clouds disappeared, the sun beat down, and the heat rose as we continued toward Ledigos and Terradillos de los Templarios. Crissi and I were moving so fast that we realized we had left Bianca behind. We waited, but she must have taken a break earlier.
Terradillos offered the first real shade since Calzadilla, and we joined a few other pilgrims at a stone picnic table for cold Cokes. Though it was technically a stage end, Crissi and I felt adventurous (or crazy) and decided to push on to Sahagún. We spent the next hour making bets on how far we had left, complaining about our jobs, and secretly plotting for something new in our lives.
Finally, after a grueling downhill, we spotted Moratinos, then San Nicolás del Real Camino, and eventually reached Sahagún by 4 p.m. The Municipal Albergue, an old church, provided surprisingly good Wi-Fi, beds, and kitchen access. Exhausted from walking 39 kilometers, the longest stretch yet, we opted for a short exploration of the town, napped, and later grabbed a late dinner while catching part of the World Cup.
Pain and exhaustion had set in, but the rhythm of the Camino was undeniable. Beyond a certain point, around 20 kilometers or so, the aches blend into a steady reminder of the distance traveled. Tomorrow promised a shorter stage toward Mansilla...hopefully.