We met a nice Australian woman called Diane, at dinner last night.  She’d had a lot of problems with first one knee then the other and had been forced to have lots of rest days in order to try and recover.  She was determined to make it to Santiago even though she clearly was not walking well.  We talked about our experiences on the camino and she told us of how she had just got stung by a little old lady as she was leaving Fonfria.  We laughed and said we had also been conned by the same little old lady.  We were walking through the village, already having had lunch, when this little old woman popped up out of nowhere and insisted we take a pancake from a stack she had made.  We tried to refuse but she insisted.  Thinking we were doing her a favour, as she was standing there in the cold and damp offering poor pilgrims some sustenance, we took one each.  She then demanded payment.  I gave her one euro and we both walked away laughing as the pancakes, although well made, were revolting, cold and damp and without any lemon juice or sugar!  Diane had had exactly the same experience.

We woke this morning to another grey cloudy day but it wasn’t raining just very cold.  We set off downhill for a while and walked along the ridge of a valley above the clouds.  When the clouds rolled away we had lovely views across the valley and we both said we could have been in the valleys in Wales.  The paths were through leafy glens edged with dry stone walls.  The spring flowers we saw in abundance earlier have all now gone but there were lots of ferns and foxgloves instead.  We still have plenty of birdsong but gone are the cuckoos.

The towns have gone and the villages have got so small they seem to consist of no more than half a dozen houses or a group of farm buildings.  Gone are the vines and fields of crops, instead it seems to be dairy farming.  Each place we came to had cows, horses, chickens with a cockerel crowing and at least one large dog, usually a German Shepherd.  Every place we passed through was covered in horse and cow muck and was very smelly.  We had planned to stop in one place for coffee but when we got there, there was no albergue, bar or café.  We had no choice but to walk on.

We did reach an almost deserted place called Ramil where there was once a monastery but now is where pilgrims take photos of the 100 year old chestnut tree that measures eight metres around its trunk and where, it is said, pilgrims can rest inside the trunk.  A little further on and, in the middle of nowhere, we came across a gallery owned and run by Arthur from England.  He had some wonderful pictures but we couldn’t buy them as we couldn’t carry them, however, he did have some really nice postcards that we bought and hope to make into a collage.  We asked for a stamp for our credencial and instead of the usual ink pad and stamp, he drew a mini work of art using ink, crayon and water colours.  They are beautiful.  Hearing our accents he asked where we were from and he told us he worked for the police as a diver and had spent time with the Newcastle force.  He now spends part of his time in Spain, he also has a place in France as well as England.  He said his life is complicated!

We carried on, still missing our usual stop for coffee, when we came across what I can only describe as a hippy commune.  A bearded man was inviting people in for refreshments, by donation, and we gladly accepted his offer of a cup of tea and a biscuit and a sit down.  It was certainly very different, particularly as there was a yoga class taking place and a sort of tree made of scallop shells called The Shell Project.  We didn’t linger long and as we left we noticed a strange arrangement of stone circles right next door.  I have no idea what they were about.

We moved on through several smelly hamlets/farms but eventually came to a place called Pintin that actually had a café.  It was 12:30 and we had been on the road since 7:45.  We had lunch and just as we were leaving a party of school children “doing the camino” arrived.  They were the first of three groups of school children we encountered walking towards Sarria.

After walking a little over fifteen miles, we eventually reached Sarria.  We followed the camino through the town and it lead us up a huge flight of steps towards the church and the old part of the city.  By now my legs were on auto pilot and it was difficult to switch from simple walking mode to climbing steps mode.  Worse still, after we got to the top we had to come down the hill again a little further over to reach our room for the night!  We have to climb back up again tomorrow.