Day 16, 17, 18: The Meseta

Leaving Burgos to walk west across the Meseta to Leon. It's high desert, high plains, highly irrigated, intensely farmed. And it's bloody hot. I start in the dark at 0600 and follow the bunch of early hikers out of town and keep going until my next night's rest. Six to seven hours of walking, all of it beautiful. This was the high plains, rich in agriculture and mineral wealth, that Burgos fought to protect.

From the Castille Burgos ramparts looking down on the city - gateway to the Meseta.

I climbed the Mesa outside of Castrojerez and was blown away by the number of Roman mines still visible from the 2000 year-old causway. The clouds were gathering overhead and in the distance I could hear thunder. What an introduction to the high plains!

Causeway built across valley wetlands to reach the gold-rich Mesa.

I counted 20 Roman mines on one hillside!

From the top of the Mesa looking East towards Burgos.

Welcome to the Meseta with a thunderstorm! 

The Meseta is considered the bread basket of Spain so miles and miles of grain fields as far as the eye can see are all around you. More recent attempts to restore ancient waterways and wetlands have brought many species back to the high plains. I saw eagles, heron, deer, and was engulfed in birdsong the whole way to Boadilla del Camino. I found a great albergue there with a horse farm just out back. I visited with Castilian horses for the better part of an hour, listening to the proud owner talk about El Cid and a number of other famous horsemen who preferred thus breed over all others. Even St. James the Moorslayer is featured riding a Castilian grey in the Burgos Cathedral ( see previous post).

El Cid and his Castilian horse, Burgos Cathedral collection.

Castilian horses! Big!

The thing that struck me about the town we were staying in was how few people there were. I was told that during the early 1900s there were over 2000 farmers and agricultural families living here. Now it is a ghost town. The Franco dictatorship and a mad dash into mechanization consolidated many of the agricultural co-ops that operated here for a hundred years. There are still many farmers but they live in the city, and come to work their tractors like any other day job.

Stone and sod-roofed horse owners house.

Underside of a stone boat, a type of sledge.

I had a look around at many of the old agricultural artifacts collected in the courtyard of the albergue and found two stone boats of the type that legend claims carried the beheaded body of St. James to Spain. People get this image of a boat made of stone and think "Oh, how miraculously that happened!" When in fact, this us what a stone boat is -- a type of flat sledge used to haul heavy materials cross country when wheels were impractical or difficult to manage in mud or deep sand. The bottom of these two stone boats were covered in flint shards to make travel over dirt paths a little smoother.

Canals across the Meseta.

The next morning I left as soon as I could see to try to cover 15 miles in six hours. Everything is so flat! The Camino follows some of the important canal system that brings water to this arid area. Bird life everywhere! But by noon my pace was so slow in the pounding heat that I turned into the first albergue I came to in the town of Carrion de los Condes. Turns out it was a good stop to make!

Monastery of Santa Clara.

This Monastery was a night's stop for St. Francis of Assisi on his pilgrimage to Santiago and his traveling friends included his best friend, Clair. She established an order of nuns here who continue to serve pilgrims some thousand years later. They are cloistered but a small staff of local people see to the albergue and deliver special requests to the nuns inside. I asked about attending the Vespers service and was invited into the church. The nuns were behind an impressive iron grill, but I could see them clearly. They sang so beautifully I found myself in tears.

SStorks and Hawks snatch mice from new-cut hay.

This morning I set off for the longest slog of the Meseta -15 miles of open, unshaded land. I had an extra early start at 0530 but by noon, again, I had had it. Everything hurt. I tried to distract myself with birding and watched a newly cut hay crop attract all manner of hunting birds from stork to hawk. Lots of mice and voles came out of those fields!

Meseta taxi!

I really thought I was succumbing to heat sickness when I heard someone yelling "Taxi! Taxi!" I was barely shuffling along with my new friend, Edgar the crow, who I had fed a potato chip to fifteen miles ago. The crow flew ahead a mile at a time, waited for me to come close , and begged and begged for another chip. Don't feed the dogs, they say. Crows, too, I'll add! Then again - "Taxi! Taxi!" What?! Seems like the local horsemen know a good business opportunity when there see one out here with all these shuffling pilgrims. I watched one man wave the taxi over and climb in. "I'm done!" he said as he waved at me on the way by. Oh well, what was another six kilometers? When I finally found an albergue after 15 miles under a blazing sun, guess who greeted me? Potato chip, anyone?

Edgar.