Stage 1: La Linea to San Martin de Tesadorillo
(usually 27km, but due to unfortunate circumstances 37km for me)
Sunrise was at 8:30am, sunset at 6:15pm. With 27km to go I decided to start at 9am. I'm not an early riser and I hate walking in the dark. I figured that at my usual pace, I shouldn't have a problem getting there on time in daylight. I had downloaded the wikiloc data of all ten stages set by the official
Asociación Gaditana Jacobea. This made me fairly independent of missing or misleading arrows.
What could possibly go wrong?
The first raindrops fell as I passed the last houses of La Linea on my way north. The dirt path went slighty uphill and streams of latte-coloured water came down. Thankfully there was enough space so that I could avoid walking in the coffee stream. After two mostly wet hours with occasional free-roaming cattle (I had to open and close a few gates to keep them in their designated areas) San Roque emerged, the only town on this stage.
I immediately thought of a verse I had learned over 30 years ago, when my Spanish teacher desperately was trying to get me to pronounce the Spanish letters R and RR correctly.
El perro de San Roque no tiene rabo, porque Ramón Rodríguez se lo ha cortado.
Well, to this day I still can’t properly roll that letters. Instead of meeting that cruel Ramon or his poor tailless dog, I walked past the empty center of town and stopped for tea at a small café next to a large Mercadona supermarket. I had just started walking again when hell broke loose. A thunderstorm poured out masses of water. For 20 minutes I stood under a small canopy of a kiosk and watched the road turning into a stream with constant rumble of thunder overhead.
Maybe it’s time to take the train?
After a few hours on the first day? No way. That wouldn’t have worked anyway, since San Martin, unlike the latter villages on the Via Serrana, is not on the railway line to Ronda. As the rain eased, I pushed my inner voice aside, took a deep breath, and walked on, hoping for the best. After walking on tarmac through some of the outskirts of San Roque, the trail soon turned into fields of strange dried plants. The sun made an appearance, I saw horses, a small lake and finally entered a forest. Lovely landscape. But as I walked on over a hill, I realized I was heading towards a dark, dramatic sky again. As jungleboy had predicted I had to climb over a gate.
Why is it locked on the camino? There is no cattle behind it. All other gates could be opened and closed easily. Strange.
When it started raining again it became difficult, as the camino was going downhill. It was slippery and getting increasingly muddy. I had to avoid big puddles by walking on the edge or even beside the path. Once I slipped and landed in the mud butt-first.
Now I am looking like the swamp thing from the 80ies horror movie.
But then the rain stopped. I was nearing the end of this stage. Only 4 km left. I was already thinking about the bathtub for me and my pants at the hostel, jungleboy had mentioned two weeks ago. I had booked it too. Then suddenly after a bend I came across this setting:
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The Rio Hozgarganta had swelled and swallowed the bridge. I was shocked. It looked deep with a strong current in the middle. Could I try to cross this?
Who are you, Indiana Jones? It’s too dangerous. Not even a car would cross here.
It was 5pm with a bit more than one hour daylight left. What now, call the hostel?
Sure, they’ll send their helicopter in right away.
I looked at wikiloc and my maps app. No alternative crossing in the east. But there was a roadbridge to the west. The only safe option. But it was a 9-km-detour! I refused to believe this.
Doesn’t help, move your legs, the clock is ticking.
And this time I followed my inner voice and went west on a flat dirt track near the river. My mood was gloomy, I met two horses along the way and reached the roadbridge at exactly 6 pm. I ate a chocolate powerbar and a mandarine because I knew I would need all the energy I still could produce.
Dusk started slowly. On the other side of the bridge was a country road with no shoulder. I turned on my headlamp on at 6:30, as it got visibly darker. It was a strange experience, a car appeared every few minutes. I walked on the left side, only changing sides (and putting my headlamp to the rear) when the road turned left. Around 7 pm I had almost reached the area where I should have been 2 hours earlier if the small bridge had been passable. A few minutes later it was pitch black. I kept my nerve, but of course, this was a nightmare: walking at night against the traffic on a road with no shoulder.
Note to myself: next time start earlier in the morning like most pilgrims do.
Later I asked myself: Why on earth I didn’t hitchhike? More than a dozen vehicles drove by in the 30 minutes after 6pm, while it was still light. It just hadn’t occurred to me. Of course, as a little boy, I was told never to get in a car with strangers. Well, that should change. At 7:25, still more than 2,5 km to go, a car suddenly stopped and a guy shouted at me to get in. He was a resident of San Martin and had been a pilgrim on the
Camino Frances. He was on his way home to watch the Netherlands vs Argentina football match and was happy to help a fellow pilgrim. I was of course very grateful, he even took me directly to Hostal Sabana (40 Euro).
I checked in, took a long hot bath and enjoyed dinner at the hostel's restaurant. It was packed as locals were there to watch the game. When I paid my check, Argentina had won on penalties. I was really tired, I had hiked almost 37 km instead of 27 km. If the friendly local hadn't saved me, it would have been 40km! I have never walked more than 34km on a Camino and that was
a day I will never forget.
Days later I discovered that indeed there was an option east of the flooding. Even close! The JW Guide of 2018 had described it and it can be seen on Google maps (if one looks very closely):
(...) where a chain prevents vehicle access, go Left, then Right, to a “bump” in the path, over the Hozgarganta river. Cross carefully when dry or in shallow water. Caution: slippery moss underfoot. [In wet weather the water here could reach up to 1m. If this is this case, go back a little – to where the chain prevents vehicle entry – to go by the road]. KSO till the houses at the main road, the CA-513 (...)
Maybe that really small pedestrian bridge was also flooded? I don’t know. It would only have taken me 10 minutes. It could have saved me 9 km and a nightmarish night walk.
Note to myself: If you chose a remote camino in winter and there is a written guide, don’t just rely on wikiloc alone and better read it in detail! In Advance!
Anyway, I survived. I knew I would pay the price for the extra long distance the next day. Little did I know there was another Indiana Jones moment waiting for me.
To be continued…
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. I found the infrastructure for both quite good but then again I'm happy with a bed, a roof over my head and a (warm) shower.
