Behind the Albergue Door: Inspiration Agony Adventure on the Camino de Santiago

from the path to the pile at the last minute like that. So I remained shattered and dispirited, and slowly trudged on.
    From there it was a long and uncomfortable traipse downhill on loose shale and scattered rocks into the valley around Molinaseca and a transition into some serious wine country. Acre upon acre of grapevines as far as the eye can see, all sagging under the weight of their fruity burdens and dazzling in the multi-coloured splendour of autumn. Not sure what it would look like in the summer, although I’m pretty sure you’d be sweating more as you looked at it. Then hills, and more hills, and chestnut plantations, and soaring freeways looming far above tranquil rural scenes straight off the cover of Tiny Spanish Villages magazine. All gradually leading you upward toward the bleak windy ridge featuring O Cebreiro and its vaunted views of valleys on three sides, and a rather grim cemetery on the other.
    After that it’s all downhill, both literally in terms of elevation, and figuratively in terms of trading picturesque views from high mountain passes for ineffectual stone fences, disdainful sheep, occasional forests and eventually satellite towns. Not that the scenery is no longer lovely or verdant or serene or any other overly effeminate adjective you can think of, it’s just not as good as before. And by now you’re so close to Santiago you can practically smell it, although don’t be fooled, that is almost certainly just a passing Spaniard, but the point is you will now be finding it harder to concentrate, and living in the moment will finish a distant second to wistful daydreaming about fast food restaurants, ritually burning underwear and long noisy shits in private hotel bathrooms.
    In summary, the scenery and terrain of the Camino Frances is impressively varied, extraordinary in spots, highly mundane in others, and generally always agriculturally themed. It does not compare to more spectacular mountain treks such as those in Nepal, Chile or the Rocky Mountains. It lacks the sheer drops and ferocious dolphins of Hawaii, the Wonder of the World payoff of the Inca Trail and there is nary an African to be found, but what the Camino may lack in extraordinary views or Mediterranean sunsets it makes up for in cultural diversity, historical participation and a truly unsurpassed feeling of community. In my experience, this is the only place in the world you can achieve such easy friendships and relaxed camaraderie without committing to a three-year contract with the Vodafone family of mobile networks or joining the Bearded Collie Friends group on Linked In.



When to Go and Weather
    Two subjects that are often changeable and always controversial, especially considering that the Camino is open for business all year round. Historically, far and away the most popular time to hike the Camino has been the dead of summer, probably because July and August are when kids are out of school and when most people tend to take holidays. Of course, that reasoning only goes so far since in five weeks we literally only saw two groups hiking with a school-aged child. And it looked like hell, to tell you the truth. But then I tend to throw that comparison out there pretty haphazardly at the best of times, as there seems to be a fairly long list of things you can conceivably do with school-aged children that all strike me as pretty comparable to hell. Christmas concerts, sleepovers, bowling, shopping, eating in public, trying to avoid detection during a top secret military invasion, science projects. You get the picture. The point is, historical statistics tell us that July and August are the busy times on the Camino, June close but somewhat quieter, and that the shoulder seasons of May and September are ideal – warm without being too hot, and quieter without any danger of albergues and restaurants closing. April and October are seen as pushing it, weather-wise and from an infrastructure standpoint, while November to March are only for those hardy fools who either relish frozen appendages and feel that hiking 800 kilometres isn’t already enough of a challenge, or are just way too busy the rest of the year with their job as assistant manager of paddling pool security.
    So, that would be the conventional wisdom. However, based on nothing more than information gleaned from a few blogs, some friendly word of mouth over yet another uninspiring Pilgrim’s Menu, and the ever-present yet often unreliable Camino grapevine,