Granon to Espinosa del Camino
Monday 10 November
Breakfast served today was a wonderful spread that included muesli, yoghurt, fresh fruit, and as well as the usual staples. We put some euros in the donation box, and were on our way. We had no plans where to stop today, but wanted to get as close to Burgos in the next two days, that we could have a short walk there and spend a day looking around.
We were making good time, so decided to stop for a longish lunch at Belorado. The other pilgrims we had stayed with the previous night were eating in the square. It was cool, and the was no more room at their table, so we moved to the warmth of the bar inside (and the same menu was 3€ cheaper there). The food was filling and rather rustic. The meat eaters had a soup of pig intestines and beans. We noticed that the bar had rather ugly decor, and was decorated with many very ugly clocks. We counted twenty from where we were siting. Tick tok, it was time to move on.
We passed several small towns, and much of the accommodation was closed as it was low season. We walked until we were tired, and ended up in Espinosa del Camino. The hostel in our guide books was closed, and we debated walking to the next town, three and a half kilometers away, but our feet were sore, and we had noticed another albergue at the beginning of town. The was a backpack resting on a nearby wall, and a pair of boots, a hat, and a staff at the entrance. It must be open. We found the host, who ran the nearby bar. He asked us what we would like for dinner, and that it would be served in the bar. We asked for a paella, and trout. We entered the albergue, a wonderful old rambling rundown village guesthouse. The wood fire had warmed the rooms, and it was comfortable and cosy. We were the only guests. The pack, boots, etc, had been a decoy.
There was a washing machine, so we washed our clothes, showered and headed to the bar. He was a most congenial host with a very heavy hand poring a gin and tonic. Our food arrived, and we had a couple of bottles of red. Meanwhile our host had placed a chainsaw on the next table, then sat down and began to sharpen it. Decoys to get in the guests? Chainsaw? We laughed it off. We were having a fun evening, and all talked and drank long into the night. Our host then presented us with shot glasses and a bottle of some local firewater. My brother commented that it tasted like ‘piss trough cake’. We had to explain this Australian colloquialism to our Dutch friend. He then agreed that that was the taste. We then retired to bed.
Sometime in the middle of the night I got up to use the bathroom, and noticed my Dutch friend missing from his bed, then remembered the chainsaw….