Having nursed our injured team member and worried over her likely journey from here, we understood she was in excellent hands, so of course we were itching to get back on the bikes to finish our journey.
That meant leaving Burgos. It wasn’t a place with good memories so we weren’t going to hang about even for a few more hours after her husband arrived. It was bucketing down rain, but we didn’t care. On the bikes and away sometime late-afternoon, with no idea where we might end up that day.
I don’t remember how long we rode for but my memory is that it wasn’t very long before we decided the rain was too much and wasn’t looking like easing any time soon, so we decided to take shelter. Well back in 2003, information on hostels was very scant. We were aware there was one nearby, but had no idea what it was like or how to gain access to it.
Still bucketing down rain, we located the locked albergue with not a soul around. It was a very desolate small 2 storey building which was in degrees of disrepair in a fairly residential area. Not sure how we got the key, (I think by talking to locals with our very limited Spanish) but we got in drenched and dripping to a small room with mattresses stacked in a corner and not much else. I think we might have been the only ones who have ever used it, but we were grateful for it at the time.
In the morning we reflected that in fact our mad desire to get out of Burgos had been thwarted as we were still only on the outskirts of the city!! We were also as you can imagine, a little nervous about taking to the busy highways and agreed to continue on the “true” path, only deviating to roads when they were parallel to it and not heavy with traffic.
Waking to a clear sky, we packed and planned to head off for a very early start. We had been told to leave the key inside and lock the door as we left, so we dutifully did that and mounted up when we realised a helmet was still inside behind the locked door!
Throwing ideas around, riding back into Burgos to buy a new one was not on the top of the list as we both wanted to get as far away as we could from this city. Having exhausted most options in our minds, we scouted around the perimeter and located an opening window on the upper level. Hazardous you might think, but we were pretty desperate. Access gained and helmet retrieved and despite our desire to have an early start, at least we could now escape Burgos!
The first part of the road was fine until Rabe de las Calzadas but the trail then took us through fields with a very soft and pitted surface. As you can imagine, rain does wonders for this and bicycles. After trying to navigate sections with 3 or 4 inches of mud, it was walking time for me. I had ridden ahead and couldn’t see my travel companion behind me but figured she would likely be in the same boat. Ever tried pushing a heavily laden bike through mud? It was a tedious 8km into Hornillos del Camino.
At the entrance to the village a farmer saw my plight and offered me a hose to remove the mud. Making headway with the cleaning I looked up to see a bike yet another Camino angel, offered to take her and the bike on his truck the next morning to get it fixed - being carried between two people, one being a gallant young man with a huge backpack. My first thought was, oh how lovely, that did look much easier than my pushing my touring bicycle through the mud.
Putting the bike down I learned it hadn’t been a simple exercise at all. She had been endeavouring to ride through the mud rather than push it and a rock lodged itself and snapped her derailleur. She had tried carrying it on her own through the slippery mud, when, as the Camino always does, a saviour was provided in a moment of need. The closest place for any possibility of repair was, yes, you guessed it, Burgos!!
We both thought at that point that this was too hard and perhaps the cosmos was trying to tell us something. But no, the hospitalero, yet another Camino angel, offered to take her and the bike on his truck the next morning to get it fixed. So back she went to Burgos.
Leaving Burgos - again!
Three days later and only about 20km traveled, we truly escaped Burgos. In high spirits and fine weather we made sure each day from here on that we would seek local advice on the trail’s suitability for bikes and when it wasn’t we took to the road. This worked well and we had about 10 days of absolutely glorious riding through the plains of the meseta, Leon and Astorga until we came to O’Cebreiro. But that is another story...
Cycling In Portugal
Cycling In Spain
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