We woke a little before the alarm, our bodies attuned to the rhythm of the Camino. Expecting to be the first up and out, we found the kitchen already buzzing with the quiet preparation of other pilgrims. They murmured about the warnings they'd heard: not to walk in the dark, for this was bear country. But neither they nor we heeded the advice. There was a certain thrill in setting out under the stars, our headlamps slicing through the pre-dawn darkness.
The air was cool and still as we made our ascent into the highest reaches of the Camino Primitivo. This stretch, far removed from the comforts of civilization, demanded self-sufficiency. Yet, as seasoned hikers of the Pacific Crest Trail, this was familiar ground, albeit with a fresh European twist that stirred a slight unease in us. The unknown landscape, the tales of bears, and the sheer remoteness played on our nerves just the smallest amount.
As the first light of dawn touched the horizon, the anxiety melted away, replaced by awe. The sun rose, casting a golden glow over the undulating hills, painting the scene in hues of orange and pink. We knew then that this would be the most scenic day of our journey. Climbing higher, we followed the ridgeline, the world falling away to steep valleys on either side.
Cattle and horses grazed freely around us, their presence a gentle reminder of the life sustained in these rugged lands. The terrain was a tapestry of grassy pastures interspersed with rocky outcrops. The Camino Primitivo, known as the Original Way, is a route steeped in history, tracing the footsteps of early pilgrims who sought solitude and reflection in their journey to Santiago de Compostela.
We walked from one hospital to the next, relics of a bygone era when these mountains were dotted with rudimentary shelters for pilgrims. Some hospitales were reduced to mere piles of rocks, whispering tales of hardship and devotion. Others stood more intact, though still uninhabitable, their crumbling walls a testament to the passage of time. These hospitals, or pilgrim shelters, were essential in the medieval period, providing refuge from the harsh elements and treacherous terrain. They were places of rest and healing, where weary travelers could find solace in the company of fellow pilgrims and the generosity of the locals. We traveled in the summer, and the elements were not a problem for us, but in other seasons this portion of the trail could be quite difficult.
The descent from the high point was abrupt and steep, the path winding down into more familiar farmland and tiny villages. The change in scenery was striking, from the rugged highlands to the gentle embrace of cultivated fields. The air grew warmer as we descended, and we found comfort in the pastoral landscape that reminded us of the simplicity and beauty of rural life.
The final kilometers led us through a dense pine forest, the ground bare beneath the towering trees. The canopy provided a welcome respite from the increasing heat, casting dappled shadows on the path. It reminded us of walks in central Oregon, where the scent of pine and the soft whisper of the wind through the branches created a sense of peace and connection to nature, and the travels we have taken in the past.
As we approached Berducedo, the village emerged from the landscape like a well-earned reward at the end of a long day. We found our albergue, aptly named "Camino Primitivo," and settled into our bottom bunks with a sense of accomplishment and relief. The hot showers washed away the grime and fatigue, and we shared a simple but hearty peregrino meal.
The hike was a beautiful day: the beauty of the sunrise over the hills, the remnants of ancient hospitales, the rocky steep descent into farming valleys, and the cool tranquility of the pine forest.
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