You may find no snow during the first two weeks of November but it can be very cold and foggy.
However if you do decide on spring 2022 remember March can be rough.
Below is my blog for the famous early March 2009 blizzard.
Be prepared, as always.
Enjoy your planning and Happy Christmas!
March 5, 2009
Foncebadon
Before dawn yesterday morning a continuous brisk noise resounded within the dorm. Could someone be stuffing plastic bags? No, sleet was hitting the roof. The weather had changed, drastically!
Nevertheless we pilgrims set off to cross the mountain. Our path grew more and more slippery. Snow began to fall; pretty at first, then stinging and very cold with an incessant wind. Walking with great difficulty on the snow-covered road after 6k I arrived at the tiny village of Foncebadon. During my first Camino it had been a ruin.
Luckily a private albergue, Monte Irago, has been created and was OPEN. After delicious hot tea and toast Mayte and I decided to stay in this warm and cozy spot. ... Now a full day later the snow outside is deep and still falling and the wind still howling. What a storm! We may be here until the spring thaw!
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March 6, 2009
Foncebadon continued
Our third day here has begun. The main room now resembles descriptions of Mt Everest base camp! Several new pilgrims who were stuck at Rabinal have made it here since the storm seems to have broken. Supposedly the road is being plowed so if no change for the worse occurs tomorrow I will try to continue. Outside there are at least 75 centimeters on the ground with much deeper drifts.
Psychologically the mood this morning is a mix of Sartre's No Exit and some 1930's social realism written by Clifford Odets.
Instead of being greatly relieved to find physical warmth, clean beds and good food available in the middle of a snowstorm on the side of a mountain, some pilgrims complain about the prices! Indeed, they are slightly higher than in Astorga but the stuff has to be brought in.
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March 7, 2009
El Acebo
Today Mayte and I finally left Foncebadon walking up the plowed, dry road to the mythic Cruz de Ferro. Giving thanks for being able to come this far, I tossed a stone carried from our French garden onto the immense pile at the base of the famous iron cross. Pilgrims have made this same gesture since the middle ages; today the scene resembled a medieval landscape painting with deep white snow covering the ground and thick white fog swirling above. ...All seemed timeless.
Now we are in El Acebo, a charming mountain village. Little has been 'gussied up'; much is authentic. Slate from the mountains covers the roofs; second floor porch galleries open onto the single street, the Camino. A friendy bar/restaurant, Meson El Acebo, has an albergue dorm upstairs. Eight other pilgrims are here tonight. Hope the heat works!