Day Nine: Galicia Burns Again

None.  Those are the chances that a Franciscan Monastery has WiFi.  I'm sitting in a hot bunk bed writing this on a word processing package.  I'll upload it tomorrow.  Let me tell you about my day.

We left the albergue in Caldas de Reis before six thirty after snacking on chorizo, cheese and fresh fruit.  It took minutes to be out of town.  The countryside today was about the prettiest we'd seen in Spain.  There was a good amount of low fog and some parts of the walk were partly cloudy and windy as the sum rose.  I took pictures, but I'm not sure you can capture these things without a really nice camera.

We met up with Bart about an hour out in, of course, the first cafe.  We left him behind and continued race walking until we found the Dutch girls.  We walked with them through beautiful forests and valleys.  When we reached the only bar in the village of San Miguel, we stopped for refreshments.  While we sat there, Bart caught up so we decided to split up again.  Girls in one group and old men in the other.

We found the path to the monastery.  It was very cool.  It was much less traveled than the Camino.  It was overgrown and ran alongside a huge river.  Somewhere, a fire was burning, and you could smell it.

Crossing the River on the way to the Monastery

Helicopters were buzzing overhead when we got to monastery.  A major forest fire was burning no more than. A kilometer away.  We were in the smoke plume and ash was falling on us.  The monastery didn't open until four and there was no place to drop our packs.  This was looking like a bad idea..

Fire on the edge of town

Michelle called the hotelier of the monastery and was told that we'd be safe there and that we could walk up the road and probably drop our packs at a place called the house of God or something similar.  I asked if it had WiFi. She ignored me.

Sure enough, we walked up the road, passing ladies picking padron peppers, and found a bar named Casa Dios.  We weren't sure we'd stay in Herbon, but a cold drink would be nice.

Seaplanes bombed the fire with water as we sipped our Cokes

As we sat on the front stoop, fire trucks sped by and big seaplanes dropped water on the fire.  It was constant.  We went inside and had an excellent lunch of local foods including pimientos de padron.  While we ate, the hubbub subsided and the sky cleared up.  We decided to stay in the monastery after all.

Why the title?  In 2006, I lived in Galicia with the kids and a huge string of arson fires struck both Galicia and Portugal during the dry summer months.  The fires were driven by economics, the arsonists wanting to free up protected lands for development.  (We learned later that this fire, which made the national news, was arson.)

We walked back and waited until four when they opened the doors.  The deal is this: they have been taking in pilgrims forever.  You pay whatever you want.  Tonight, they'll give us a tour of the monastery followed by mass at eight and dinner.  In the morning, there's mass again and breakfast.

Smoke in the chapel

So here I am, sitting in a dorm room with the windows open like countless pilgrims before.  Tomorrow, we walk to the. Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela.

I hope they have WiFi.