Race for the Beds: Camarzana de Tera to Rionegro del Puente

 “Of drink I have little, and food I have less
My strength tells me, "No", but the path demands, "Yes”
My legs are so short and the way is so long
I've no rest nor comfort, no comfort but song”
Bear McCreary, This Wandering Day

Camino Sanabrés  Stage 3 / Via de la Plata Stage 27

Early Morning on Camino

Last night wasn't the most restful.  The hotel was under renovation, meaning there weren't any working lights in the interior hallways.  Perhaps because of this, everyone who walked past during the night seemed to make an awful lot of noise.  Patrons of the bar downstairs came in and out, someone in a room down the hall kept going outside to smoke, and between the doors and squeaky floors, we heard it all.  Given these circumstances, when the alarm went off around 5:30 AM, we were feeling pretty exhausted and reluctant to make an early start to our potentially long day.  To make matters worse, we had hoped to get breakfast in the bar/restaurant downstairs, which claimed to be a 24-hour truck stop, but it was definitely closed when we went to investigate.  As a result, we settled for bread, jam, and instant coffee in our room.

Walking into the Unknown

Stepping out the door this morning, we found ourselves once again venturing into the unknown. Today could be an easy, moderate, or punishingly long stage.  With so many factors beyond our control and no way to tell in advance, such days on the Camino can be tough.  The albergues along this stretch are unevenly spaced, many offering only four or six beds, leaving us to gamble as we walk, unsure what will be available when we arrive, or knowing whether we should stop or continue on.

Around us, there are now many pilgrims from other groups we’ve never met since hiking out of Cadiz on the Via Augusta or Seville on the Via de la Plata, making it impossible to gauge how crowded the trail might be today. Some are taking buses or taxis for three-quarters of the stage, walking only the final stretch into town, a pace we simply cannot compete with on foot. Meanwhile, the usual Camino rumours are circulating that the albergues are all full - rumours that, as we have learned over the years, are often exaggerated.

Even cafes and shops, the small comforts we often rely on, are left to chance, their presence revealed only when we reach them. In this, we are learning once again the art of walking with faith: to move forward without uncertainty, to plan with flexibility, and to accept whatever the day brings. As we have learned (and forgotten) before, the Camino teaches patience in the simplest, most profound way: by asking us to trust in the journey, even when the path ahead is uncertain.

Return to the Camino

When we stepped out onto the street, the sky was already beginning to lighten, but the stars were still shining brightly overhead.  It was only around 5 °C, so the air had a decided nip in it, which helped put a spring in our step, at least for the first kilometre or so.  Thankfully, the road was very quiet as we walked out of town and turned south to reconnect with the Camino.

A few minutes later, we were crossing the river on a paved bridge, looking down on a treed and well-manicured campground along the riverbank. A couple of tents with bicycles parked outside were tucked into a corner, their occupants still soundly asleep in the damp, cold morning.  Mist was rising from the river, as well as from the small ponds and fields around it, making for a magical morning.

Soon, we diverted onto a dirt track that wove along the treed river corridor, passing several large vegetable gardens along the way.  Shortly afterwards, we were once again weaving through popular plantations, the mature trees standing straight and tall in nearly perfect rows.  The track curved among the poplar stands, seeming to glow in the low light as it was lined with fluffy poplar down from the trees that looked like snow drifts. 

Fog and Sunrise

As we progressed, the sun peeked above the horizon, and amid the fog sent dramatic shafts of golden light through the tall poplar trunks.  It was stunningly beautiful, and predictably, our pace ground to a near halt as Sean waded into the tall wet grasses of the plantation to take pictures.  For an hour.  Amid this, a single pilgrim passed us – likely stunned that someone would be standing with two backpacks on the side of the trail while another crawled around in the wet grass. 

Sometimes I wonder how we look to others on the trail.

Overall, it was a relatively quiet morning, but there was one patch of extremely lively birds that were singing at top volume.  Although I tried to find the tiny feathered singer while Sean was off photographing, I never did manage to spot him. His identity will remain a mystery - as so many new bird songs and flashes of feathers in the tree are for me.

By the time we left the forest behind and emerged into the flat, freshly ploughed fields, we were grateful to feel the warmth of the sun on our frozen limbs.  Instead of following the shaded highway verge, we opted to cut across the fields, passing a farmer who was harvesting his hay.  As a result, the air was suddenly filled with the sweet smell of cut grass and the fresh scent of tilled earth.

Canal Walk

We began to notice stone irrigation trenches cutting through the fields, and we could hear the sound of rushing water coming from under the brambles and grasses beside the track.  Soon we crossed a small footbridge and found ourselves walking beside a small canal.  It felt as though we were following an old friend by this point.

The sun was still low to the horizon and the shadows long when we spotted the first small village of today's walk.  Calzadilla de Tera was where we had considered staying last night, as it would have made the walk to Mombuey shorter, but the albergue there only has 8 beds, and (by our best guess) there are more than three times that many pilgrims in our stage.  We didn't want to get into the bed race and spend all day worrying, so we had opted to stop short last night.

Walking through the village was quite nice looking and it had a small stone church on one end of it.  We stopped by to see if it was open, but unsurprisingly, it was not.  Sean had harboured great hopes that there would be coffee available somewhere in the town, but the bar didn't open until 10 AM, so we walked on, disappointed at missing out on a much-anticipated break and a chance to warm up. 

Birds and Bell Towers

At the edge of town, we stopped to watch a Black Kite and a couple of Common Ravens feeding on something that had been flattened in the middle of the road, and we had a small snack as well.  As we sat in the sunshine, a German pilgrim whom we'd been playing hopscotch with all morning passed by with a nod and a wave.  

We soon followed, walking down a wide concrete laneway towards a lovely-looking stone church sitting by itself out in a field.  A rope hung down outside the door, seeming to invite passersby to give it a pull.  The door was closed, but we were able to peek through the keyhole and see a pale Madonna on the altar inside, looking serene and aloof.  Outside, a small shelter for pilgrims beckoned, but we had just taken a break, so we continued on.

River Valley Trekking 

The next stage of the Camino brought quite a surprise.  We followed a wide track through a scrubby landscape, and then at the last minute noticed a set of arrows pointing off down a narrow footpath with a large 'Peligro' notice some ways down it.  We followed the overgrown footpath as it snaked down into a forested valley, becoming more and more thorny as it went. We wondered what danger the sign was warning us about, but soon realized it likely referred to unpredictable and sudden changes in water level - held in check and controlled by the nearby dam.

The footpath was unlike anything we've encountered so far on this Camino, but it reminded us quite a lot of Scotland’s West Highland Way or even the Bruce Trail in Ontario, Canada.  As the path became more and more overgrown with Gum Rock-Rose shrubs, broom, gorse, climbing roses, and oak trees, we noticed that a thick layer of moss and lichen covered many of the plants.  Huge granite boulders, like the ones you find on the Canadian Shield and along the Bruce Trail, bordered the slopes on either side of us. For the first time in Europe, it felt like we'd found a tiny patch of wilderness.

We descended down into a river valley, walking quite close to the Rio Tera.  Its shallow, fast-moving waters gave lovely reflections of the green trees, spiky river grasses along the shoreline, and bright blue sky above. As we walked, we could hear the splashing of large fish in the water beside us.  Otherwise, the valley was very quiet, with little birdsong and no wind.

Markings were scarce, but we managed to follow the GPX tracks up and out of the valley, all the while making our way towards a huge hydroelectric dam.  The last few meters were a steep climb up to a road.  There were footholds worn into the loose dirt and rock, but my legs were slightly too short for their placement, which made the mad scramble a bit of a challenge for me.  So did the brambles at the top of the hill, which I accidentally grabbed on the way up.

Dam Crossing

From there, we followed a long curving road up and around to the dam.  As we walked across the top of the long, straight structure, we had a huge, deep blue reservoir on one side and the wide, shallow river far below us on the other.  Although it reminded us of other dams we've crossed, especially the Seven Sisters Dam on the Trans Canada Trail in Manitoba, unlike our previous experiences, we couldn't hear or feel the vibrations of the water thundering through beneath us. The river was flowing, but it was very low, and the volume of water being let through looked like a mere trickle.

For the next few kilometres, we followed an old paved road around the edge of the reservoir.  There was no traffic, and it was a peaceful and beautiful walk.  The road was bordered by blooming rock rose bushes, large clumps of purple Spanish lavender, and loads of tiny white and yellow wildflowers.  There were also large boulders sticking up like teeth out of the scrubby vegetation, with the occasional huge rocky erratic thrown in.

As we made our way around the reservoir, we marvelled at the blue sky above us.  We also enjoyed the scenery, which consisted of green hills on the opposite side of the lake, which were topped by bare rocky outcroppings.  The sounds of Hoopoes echoed through the trees, but otherwise, the warm, sweet-smelling air was quiet.

Villar de Farfon

After skirting around the edge of the reservoir, we popped out onto a road which, unusually (for Spain), had a dashed white line painted down the middle.  It was so narrow that to us it looked more like a bike lane than a road for vehicles.  Either way, it brought us to the village of Villar de Farfon.  It was a charming little community, filled with interesting old wattle and dub buildings that had colorfully painted green and blue wooden doors with intricately designed locks and door handles.  It also had a beautiful old stone church, and we climbed its tower.  The view from the top over the village to the mountains beyond was spectacular, and we enjoyed the different perspective.

Since we started down the trail around the reservoir, we had been seeing beautiful blue signs for coffee in a few kilometres.  Being of a cynical mindset after so many kilometres of disappointments, I was reluctant to believe the coffee would materialize.  However, as we reached the edge of town, we found a lovely oasis – the Albergue Rehoboth!  

In the front was a tiny café, which was also the 4-bed albergue in the town, was situated right at the edge of the village, bordering on the countryside.  It was a truly beautiful spot, and the young Hospitalero spoke English and welcomed us into the donativo cafe.  We sat around a table with three other pilgrims, enjoying coffee, cookies, and good company.  It was a lovely break, and it made us wish we were staying in the lovely albergue. The spirit of the Camino is very much alive here. 

It’s easy to see why people linger here, surrounded by quiet, peaceful countryside and welcomed by such kind hosts. The albergue host mentioned that just last night, with only four beds available, they had managed to accommodate additional pilgrims and help resolve issues caused by other local albergues being full. He also pointed out that the hotel listed in Mombuey was closed, leaving fewer options for the next stage. These small warnings that many pilgrims are ahead, that only tiny albergues, and limited supplies aren’t new to us; several hosts along the Via de la Plata have already cautioned about potential bottlenecks in the coming days.

After this interlude, we continued along the track, which the Hositalero had suggested might bring views of Green Woodpeckers, Roe Deer, wild boar, or even wolves.  It was not a completely tamed landscape, filled with grassy meadows, small stands of trees, and piles of abundant wildflowers and rock rose hedges. We kept our eyes peeled for any signs of wildlife as we made our way through the gorgeous landscape, but mostly we spotted the silhouettes and shapes of unidentifiable birds.

The American Question 

Perhaps most surprising was that, while here, we ran into the first group of American pilgrims we had seen on this year’s Camino. They were visibly nervous about revealing their nationality, explaining that many members of the American Pilgrim Society had warned them they might encounter a cold reception on the trail, given the current political climate.

They were particularly stunned that Canadians and British pilgrims would even speak to them. It was disheartening to learn that they felt their nationality was stigmatized by prevailing cultural and political attitudes. It seemed deeply unfortunate that anyone embarking on the Camino - a path meant to welcome all - would feel uncertain about being accepted and embraced. Their fears seemed to reflect the simple truth that on the Camino, you can't avoid the realities, tensions, and challenges of the real world behind.

Rionegro del Puente

Around 6 km later, having not spotted any wildlife, we emerged from a beautiful forested stretch on the trail and entered the next village, which was Rionegro del Puente.  We crossed into the town on a low, flat concrete bridge over the river, which was wide and fast-flowing.  As we crossed the waters, a delicious cool breeze came down the waterway, out of a forested tunnel. It seemed to beckon to us in the now-warm afternoon.

We made our way to the albergue and bar, which was filled with pilgrims we knew.  We had intended to walk another 11km, but the albergue there only has 6 beds, and we knew this would be a gamble.  The albergue in the next village after that, which would make today a 41 km stage, also has only 6 beds. When we talked to a couple of different pilgrims, they said they had called ahead and everything was 'completo' until Asturianos, which would have made today a 57 km stage for us if we continued on.  While we have walked that far in a single day on the Trans Canada Trail, we didn't enjoy the experience, and weren't eager to repeat it. 

Albergue Choices

We debated for a while, but in the end decided to stay in Rionegro del Puente for the night.  It appeared to be a very nice albergue, with lots of space.  So, we dropped our stuff off in the upstairs dormitory, had 2 Aquarius in the shade of the albergue outside and went to explore the tiny village. 

Our first stop was the church, and while admiring it from the outside, we followed a newly mowed path around its base.  The long and newly cut grass was lying in a thick, bouncy mat on the ground.  Suddenly, Sean spotted a beautiful emerald green Western Montpellier Snake standing upright along the edge of the path, impersonating a stick!  It was a risky move on the snake's part, as there was an active White Stork nest with two hungry baby storks in the belfry directly above.

After our tour of the village, we went back up to the bar attached to the albergue, La Vereda,  and had a couple more Aquarius as well as a delicious salad.  The rest of the afternoon was spent hanging out with other pilgrims in the common area of the albergue, having a couple of drinks at the bar, writing our journals, and reading about the coming stages.

Warnings and Panic

At 6 PM, the Hospitalera arrived to check everyone in to the albergue, a process which seemed to take forever.  There was no hurry, yet everyone seemed to be vying to get to the head of the line, each claiming they had a reason to go first.  “I have to go to mass so I need to check in first”, “I am old, I need to check in next”, “I am tired, I need to check in so I can go to bed now”, et cetera.  The end result was that those pilgrims who were British, Australian, American, and Canadian were left to the end. 

Then again, none of us had anything to do anyway, so what did it matter?  All we have is time.  

The host was a very animated and talkative lady, speaking rapid-fire Spanish and having little tolerance for those who did not.   As she worked, she warned everyone that this albergue has been full for several nights, including last night.  And while we all fit into this albergue tonight, there is no way we will all find places to stay in the coming days, as the infrastructure isn't in place to support such a large group of walkers.  She suggested that we all spend the evening making arrangements and preparing for the possibility that we might have to take a taxi or train forward to find bunks.  She even encouraged pilgrims to quit the Sanabres altogether and transit up to the Camino Frances, where more accommodations existed.

Reservation Rush

As a result, the next few hours saw our fellow pilgrims madly making reservations on Booking.com, narrating their relief at getting the last room, and their shock at how unreasonably steep the prices were in the remaining places, and how they were watching the available spots fill before their eyes. Over and over again, we heard that everything was now booked solid, and they were so glad to be among the lucky few who had thought ahead and secured places. Everyone seemed to be freaking out, curled in balls of stress around their phones and guidebooks.

Listening to these conversations, we could feel our own anxiety rising.  We did our best to fight off the panic that seems to grip everyone at one point on every Camino we've ever walked, resulting from just such rumours of too few beds in the stages ahead.  Every time this has happened previously, we've fallen for the rumours and booked ahead, only to find plenty of spaces in the towns when we arrived there.  This time, we were determined to resist the temptation to panic, but given our experiences on this Camino, where promised services have so often turned out to be a myth, trusting that the Camino would indeed provide felt even more difficult than usual. 

Evening Entertainment

Eventually, unable to stand the atmosphere in the common area any longer, we headed back to the bar in the hopes of getting dinner and escaping the frantic phone scrolling. The owner took our request for another salad, and while we waited, an old lady sat down at the table beside us, chewing noisily on a packet of sunflower seeds.  She cracked each seed individually in her teeth and then spit the shells into the bucket on her table, all the while never taking her eyes off us, or even seeming to blink. In our somewhat frazzled and frantic mindset, the blatant staring and endless cracking of seed shells did little to improve our mood.  

We waited for an hour, but unfortunately, no food ever appeared for us or the other pilgrims who had also placed orders and were waiting patiently outside. Although the kitchen was supplying a steady stream of dishes to the growing Friday-night crowd of locals inside, pilgrims were not served. Eventually,  I and several other pilgrims inquired only to have the lady at the bar dismissively shrug. By this point, it was now too late to order food.

Amid all this, one elderly local lady bought a bag of sunflower seeds, sat down closer beside us, and proceeded to crack each seed loudly while continuing to stare at us. She continued this ritual for over an hour, simply watching. Later, as I paid at the bar, she bought another bag of seeds and moved to sit in front of another group of pilgrims, maintaining her intense scrutiny while eating. It was hard not to marvel at how dirty, tired hikers talking could apparently provide such endless entertainment. Somehow, we had become unwitting performance pieces for local Spanish residents.

At 8:30 PM, when dinner is typically served in Spain, the bartender announced that La Vereda was about to close at 9 PM.  She then proceeded to race around collecting half-finished drinks from tables of pilgrims.  Dismayed pilgrims paid their bar bills and returned to the attached albergue, both confused and hungry.  

Returning to the albergue, we discovered that the water had stopped running throughout the building. One pilgrim had their laundry in the washing machine when it abruptly shut off, leaving them to ring out the soap from their clothes by hand. The toilets could no longer be flushed and were beginning to fill up, adding to the sense of chaos. To make matters worse, no one could fill their water bottles, which meant that tomorrow we would have to set off without any water. After repeated phone calls, the host of our accommodations finally appeared - but merely shrugged her shoulders and walked away.

We go to bed slightly worried about tomorrow’s stage, but glad that we have a place to sleep for tonight.  Little did we know that this would be the high point of the evening and that ultimately everyone in the albergue would only have a couple of hours of peace and quiet. 

See you on the Way!