
Santo Domingo de Calzada to Castrojeriz
134.82 km, total for trip 454.11 km
After getting up early and getting our bikes ready, Max and I decided to head off for the next town for breakfast. He is riding a mountain bike with a fair amount of baggage and even though he is much younger than I am I do not have any trouble keeping up with him on the Marinoni. We roll smoothly along our road, the N120, and chat when we can in a mixture of English and Spanish. The little town of Grañon is off to our left but it looks pretty inconsequential and we do not expect to find any place to eat there.



The road began to climb gently once we left Belorado and crossed the Tirón River, passing through the villages of Tosanto and Espinosa del Camino. The walking trail for the pilgrims ran parallel to us, sometimes right next to the road, sometimes off in the distance. There was more traffic than I would have liked on this route and almost all of it was big transport trucks.
At Villafranca de Montes de Oca we took a break in a parking lot next to the Iglesia de Santiago, which was built in 1800, replacing another old structure. Although the town was once quite an important stopping point on the Camino, almost nothing is left to look at. The castle, the hospital–just ruins now. The town only has about 200 residents, so when we left the population dropped significantly.
The landscape here is scrubby, rolling hills, with pine and oak trees. Apparently, pilgrims could not locate any landmarks around here and the historical accounts describe them getting lost, and also talk of the wild animals and thieves. It was here that an uprising against the Republic government took place in July 1936, with horrific slaughter, and large numbers of bodies were dumped in the area. A small monument marks the murder of men from Burgos.




Our rural road joined the N1 and I was apprehensive that we would have very heavy traffic going into Burgos but this was not the case as thanks to EU money a divided highway could be seen in the distance and it was where all the cars were. We were not on the Camino as it crossed fields going into Burgos but we had an excellent ride along the smooth pavement of the empty road. It was getting very hot as we entered Burgos.


Burgos was totally deserted as we rode along the river and into the Plaza Mayor. The sun was blazing down as we came up to the huge white cathedral, whose first stone was laid in 1221. The structure, which only took a mere 23 years to build, continued to be enlarged for the next five centuries. We got off of our bikes and walked around a bit, looking also at the nearby chapels, also all white with soaring arches. Then, because it was so hot–Burgos citizens have a saying about their weather: “nine months of winter, three months of hell”-- we wandered off for ice cream.
Since everything was locked up as tight as a drum in Burgos and we felt pretty good, Max and I decided to continue riding westwards. In retrospect, we should have stayed a day in Burgos and looked at all of the old buildings as it is the city along the Camino that has the most art. At one point in the 15th Century, the city had no fewer than 32 pilgrim hospices. In any event, we rode off along the banks of the Río Arlanzón towards more adventure. We stopped briefly at a large refugio where there were some other cyclists that Max had ridden with previously and we chatted with them but we thought it was too early in the day to stop.




We came to the village of Iglesia and had a nice paved road again. Max was tiring and we had some large climbs ahead and I waited on top for a while near Castellanos de Castro. It was nearly 6 pm and the air was cooling nicely. The sun’s rays had become a soft gold colour, and I took some photos to take advantage of the light.
Max eventually rolled up and then we enjoyed the best section of the trip so far, a 13 km gentle downhill on an excellent empty paved road that let us coast and admire the scenery. To the right was the village of Hontanos, but we ignored the refugio sign and continued onwards.

Soon our destination for the night, Castrojeriz, came into view. It was quite spectacular, and the road led past a fortified hill. In its heyday the town boasted five churches and seven pilgrim hospices. The castle overlooking the town is actually pre-Roman in origin; Visigoths built on the site later and subsequently it was battled over by Muslims and Christians.

We followed the sign to the refugio, which was fairly high up in town and required some more climbing, but when we got there we discovered it was packed with pilgrims and there was no place for us. In fact, one of the women staying there was quite unpleasant about it. On the way up, I had noticed a sign for another refugio. We returned there and the jolly man running the place said there was space for us. I think he may have been a farmer and was renting out space–at 5 Euros each!–for a bit of extra income. It was quite small but Max and I found a room with two beds and unpacked out stuff. Several other pilgrims arrived soon afterwards but I think we were only about seven in all, unlike the big place up the hill. The shower was cold (really cold, actually) but after our 130 km of riding in the heat and the dust this did not matter so much. After getting cleaned up, we shared our bread and cheese and water and then it was lights out. We all slept the sleep of the just.