Monday and I am in Molinaseca

But before I tell you about the significance of today´s trip, some more adventures from yesterday.

Last night at 7 in the afternoon (according to the spanish it is afternoon and not evening yet!) I attended vesperes in the little church in Rabanal. There were 3 monks from the Benedictine monastery next door - just a tiny little monastery- and with the help of a few regulards, sang vespers which is evening prayer of the church. Most of it was in Latin and I was delighted to have eveningprayer on Pentecost. A lot of the pilgrims attended as well and the little church was quite full. I only recognised 2 of the chants, but even then did not join in as I might spoil the harmony by singing flat. The scripture reading is usually read by pilgrims in english, german, spanish and french. I was one of the few english speakers so I did the reading. At the end of vespers, there was benediction. Afterwards I was intriduced to one of the priests and he had been to south africa to Inkamana Abbey in Vryheid, Natal, and was a classmate of the present abbot. I had met the previous abbot, who was also a classmate. Small world indeed that in a tiny ( and I mean tiny - about 30 houses in the village) place like Rabanal in Spain I find a southafrican connection.

After vespers I had the pilgrims dinner nearby and then attended compline or night prayer with the monks. This time the psalms were prayed in spanish, and there was a special blessing at the end for the pilgrims.

I am still fascinated by the characters that I meet - mind you I suppose I am one to others! In Astroga I paid 2.5 euro to go into the museum as well as the cathedral. There was a little man in front of me and in English he complained to the poor lady selling tickets that they were playing french organ music in the cathedral when they should be playing Spanish organ music - this to someone who only had a few words of english. I was amused at the time but thought nothing more of it. In Rabanal I discover this man is a pilgrim and staying at the same albergue, is from Ireland, is a church organist and has an opinion about everything. The little bearded Irishman (lbi) always found something wrong, and his way was better. We sat in the garden having tea and he would always chip in with his comments. Any way, after vespers I was chatting and was last to go into the restaurant for the pilgrims meal. I found a seat at a table with a young frenchman called Jean who was cycling from Bordeaux to Santiago. The tables were close to each other and so conversations flowed across tables and the lbi was sitting to my right. At one stage he leant accross to me and said: "I didnt want to say it to the hospitalero (who had prepared tea today), But I saw the eggs that went into the cake and they would be used better in an omelette." I was rather nonplussed by this, so gave my non-committal grunt and contemplated the myteries of eggs while eating my creme caramel.

So Monday I set out with good cheer to face the challenges of the day. The walk would take us up about 800m in elevation to the Ferro Cruz and then the tough part - a steep and perilous descent to Molinaseca.

About 30 min into the walk, climbing ever higher, I stopped and realised I felt good and my legs were good, and then I knew then I could walk anywhere and do anything and it was such a liberating feeling that my heart sang for joy. I finished the climb up to Ferro Cruz easily, tossed my stone onto the pile, had my photo taken, rejoiced that I had reached the highest spot on the pilgrimage, and began the descent. The Ferro Cruz or iron cross has been a marker for the route throught he mountains since medieval times.

The descent was tough and really hard on my knees, but I made to Molinaseca - a largish village. But I wont explore and will instead marshall my resources for tomorrow. i seem to have lost most of the people I have been travelling with in this albergue, but no matter - new friends are there to be made.

And now for some rest.

Adios