- Starting Point: Hornillos
- Ending Point: Castrojeriz
- Daily distance: 12.43 miles (20 km)
- Total distance: 199.94 miles (321.77 km)
There was a picture on my bedroom wall when I was growing up of a woman on a hilltop looking out at a pale pastel colored sky. The woman’s back was turned so you never saw her face. She wore a big floppy straw hat and a lavender dress with a bow. Something about the picture exuded peace and serenity. During times of stress in my teenage years, the setting of that picture was my “happy place”. I would close my eyes and imagine myself on that hilltop, soaking in the quiet and comfortable aloneness.
As soon as I entered the Meseta yesterday, that picture sprung to my memory. The hilltops, the expansive skies and the peacefulness transported me to that familiar escape. And again this morning, the light colored skies took me there.
After walking about a quarter mile, I turned around to look behind me and was amazed by the sight. The clouds were coming down to dance with us today. A mass of white cotton was rolling into the Meseta.
Before long it overtook us and we walked for miles in white mist. I teased that now we knew why the Meseta turned people into “mist-ics” (cue corny joke drum roll here!).
It was a magical walk. On down the path, we passed a endless sea of decaying sunflowers, their heads hanging in sadness at the passing of summer. They went on as far as the eye could see.
As the sun made its ascent, the clouds evaporated from our path. A cool breeze pushed us forward. We caught up with Paul and Katelyn from Australia, a couple we first met in Roncevalles on Day 3 and frequently passed on the trail. They are a sweet couple with smiles always on their faces. The trail weaved us under the arches of St Anton, an old monastery and under trees raining down yellow leaves. As we walked into Castrojeriz, a crumbling castle watched over us.
Dinner this evening was delicious. It was a four course pilgrim’s meal with noodle soup, cabbage and chickpea stew, a smorgasbord of meats and rice pudding. Our albergue has no bunk beds and I’m looking forward to a good night of sleep. Last night a man with some kind of sleeping disorder kept me awake all night. He did not snore; he barked. But just now as I lay in bed writing this, I am startled by the loud snort from the gentleman across from me. I’m afraid it may be another restless night.
The Way to Land's End 