Pilgrims on a Roman Road: Guillena to Castilblanco de Los Arroyos

 “Not all journeys have a destination.  Some are just a conversation between your feet and the earth.”

Via de la Plata Stage 2

It was a quiet enough night, although our neighbours used the washroom about once every 20 minutes all night long - for a total of 16 trips over 6 hours.  Adding to this unfortunate situation was the fact that they cleared their throats, were constantly passing gas or going to the toilet ... absolutely everywhere in the washroom throughout the evening.   It must have been exhausting for them, but I was glad to have our dorm room to ourselves, keeping the noise a little bit at bay, and allowing us to keep the fan going and the window open for some cooler air.

As the sleepless hours slipped past, I was grateful for the many blessings bestowed on me.  Including the opportunity to simply walk for 40-50 days along the Via Augusta, Via de la Plata, and Camino Sanabres.

Early Morning on the Camino

We set the alarm for 6 AM, which coincided with the wake-up time of our neighbours.   We had a quick breakfast of instant coffee and croissants in the albergue kitchen and were ready to head out a few minutes before 7:00 AM.   As we ate, our fellow pilgrims each brought out two huge rolling suitcases tagged for transport and proceeded to drench themselves and everything in sight with cologne.  

Amid their constant activity, we slipped on our backpacks and, glad to get some fresh air, we walked out onto darkened streets where we could see the outlines of at least three pilgrims on the sidewalk ahead of us.  Today’s stage is short, only 18 km, and we set out hoping to find bunks, as there has been no response via Whatsapp to our inquiries sent out yesterday. 

Lost in the Dark

At the edge of town, the Camino became an unlit track, and a French couple were looking into the darkness, uncertain where to go next. We got out our headlamp and helped them follow the arrows, but the track led down into a flooded pond, so we had to backtrack a little and take the road bridge across the water.

By the time we crossed the river, the sky was beginning to lighten.  A large crescent moon was hanging in the sky with a bright white planet looking like it was being held in the bowl. It was very beautiful, and the sliver of moon was bright enough to be reflected in the ruffled surface of the water.  After a few hundred meters, we picked up a farming track, which thankfully took us away from the main road.  This would be the last time we saw the highway until we reached the edge of Castilblanco de los Arroyos.

Just before we left the town behind, the Camino crossed a busy roundabout and ducked into an industrial section.  Here, a group of 4 or 5 men were loading wooden crates of fruits and vegetables into the back of white vans, ready for delivery to the small produce shops in the area.  Unlike North America, where produce is packed in large pallets and distributed by huge lorries, in Europe everything is done by hand, which I think is quite refreshing.

Surprisingly, a little way beyond the warehouse, tucked into an empty lot between the buildings, was a small flock of curious and active sheep who came over to inspect us as we passed their enclosure.

Pilgrim Crowds

As the sun began to rise, the track took us through a young olive grove.  There were three pilgrims ahead of us, and at least three behind, putting us in the middle of a small pack of other walkers.  After completing the Via Augusta, where we only met two other pilgrims over the span of ten days, we were quite shocked to unexpectedly find such a 'large' crowd.

As the sky lightened, we were treated to a truly beautiful sunrise. The sun rose as a soft pink ball into a sky painted with soft, misty clouds.  Underneath the rounded disc, long grey tendrils of cloud swooped upward like fingers.  We stood on the gravel track, looking over a bank of wildflowers and head-high cactus plants as dawn broke.  The ruins of what looked like a tiny castle made a romantic silhouette atop a hill, and as the dewy grasses below were lit up with silver white light, the scene became ever more stunning.

Sounds of the Way 

We were grateful for the cool morning air and for the shade provided by the nearby olive trees.  We were also grateful not to be walking directly on the highway, although we could still hear its roar in the background, underneath the cheerful sounds of birdsong.  We could also hear what sounded like an active construction site, and we soon discovered that the noise was coming from a field where large groups of workers were installing the metal or concrete posts for a new vineyard.  There were a great many people involved in the process, and the thudding we heard was a pile driver that was putting the posts in the ground.

As we continued onward, the landscape became progressively hillier and soon we were walking among forested hills, with valleys opening up to either side.  At one point, we came to a sign indicating that we were in cattle country, and we should keep the gates closed in order to contain free-roaming livestock.  A while later, we passed a paddock filled with lovely white cows with reddish heads and spots and truly impressive-looking horns. We also heard the telltale sounds of horses whinnying among the trees, but they remained hidden among the shrubs and palmetto plants.

By this point, we noticed that the sounds of airplanes overhead, traffic on the highway, and construction in the fields had mostly faded away, and we were left with the crunch of our footsteps on the path, the sounds of birds in the shrubs, and the blue sky above. 

What a peaceful morning!

Countryside Pilgrimage

Eventually, we found ourselves among olive groves and orchards, some of which looked like they hadn't been tended to in quite some time.  While others were in the process of being built.   As the sun filtered through the shrubs and tall grasses, the dew sparkled like jewels.  Long shafts of light filtered through the branches, creating an amazing world of shadows.  In that moment, the rolling hills felt magical and blanketed in a deep feeling of peace.

The cooler temperatures held until around 10 AM, and then suddenly the sun felt scorching hot.  We could see the humidity hanging thickly in the air, creating a haze that gave depth to the hills receding into the distance.  The humidity was so high that at one point the clouds began to sprinkle water droplets.  Looking across the hills, we could see it sprinkling all around us, which was a strange sight.  It felt a bit like walking through a sauna with a heavy backpack on.

Sierra Norte de Sevilla Natural Park 

About six kilometres from town, we crossed a set of cattle bars and stepped into the Sierra Norte de Sevilla Natural Park, a UNESCO Global Geopark. Massive white-faced cattle with towering horns grazed lazily in their enclosures, while nearby, Iberian pigs rooted contentedly in large pens. The landscape had the air of an abandoned olive farm, scattered with evergreen oaks, whose shade was patchy under the midday sun. Finding a cool spot was possible, but it was very spaced out.

Forty minutes later, the rough dirt track gave way to a wider gravel road, running parallel to the paved highway. We welcomed the solid footing, though the shade thinned even further. The final thirty minutes into town were slow and laboured: two walkers ahead shuffled at a painstakingly slow pace, and the rising heat pressed down on us with every step.

By the time we reached our destination, the challenge of the trail, the sun, and the uneven ground reminded us why completing the last few kilometres, on some days, can feel like overcoming a mountain.

Castilblanco de los Arroyos

We had not been able to make any reservations for tonight, so when we got to the edge of town, passing a statue of a beekeeper,  we began asking and then phoning around to see if there were any rooms available anywhere. 

Since tomorrow is a longer stage, we figured that getting a good night's sleep would be beneficial.  We were struggling with the heat, and the prospect of spending the night in a sweltering room with thirty other pilgrims was unappealing. However, everything was completely full.

So, we made our way to the municipal albergue and put our packs in the growing line outside the door. We had left early to avoid some of the heat, so we arrived around 11:00 AM.

We reached the Municipal albergue and were immediately accosted by a German man, busy orchestrating the line and rearranging everyone’s backpacks. He made sure everyone knew, repeatedly, that he was “number one” and had arrived at 9 AM - clearly proud of having completed the stage before everyone that day. Not particularly interested in his bragging or his constant meddling, we dropped our packs into the seventh and eighth positions and sank onto a shaded bench.

As we sheltered in the shade and amid the heat, he continued his ritual: picking up backpacks and informing newly arriving pilgrims of his achievement of arriving before them.  For the next hour, he kept arranging everyone’s gear.  Each time he sought to pick up and move our backpacks, he would return to happily tell us, “Too heavy, you will not make it to Santiago!” before returning to tend and supervise the line once again. 

Little did we know at the time that we would repeatedly encounter him at albergues over the coming stages. Each day, his singular mission seemed to be reminding everyone that he “was number one today.” The odd things people fixate on.

While we waited for the albergue to open, Sean walked down to the nearby Repsol gas station to fetch Aquarius drinks, offering a small reprieve from the absurdity of the morning.

Donativos and Supporting the Camino 

At noon, the albergue opened its doors and we were all welcomed inside by two Hospitaleras from Montreal, Canada!  They were incredibly nice and helpful, making sure that everyone felt welcome.  The albergue was well laid out, with a large rooftop terrace, and seemingly plenty of space.

We dropped 50 Euros into the donation box and immediately felt a twinge of absurdity as an older man behind us scoffed. “You gave too much,” he announced, letting everyone know that he’d contributed "only one or two euros." “They don’t provide food, just a roof, so phhhh…” he added, like it was the cleverest observation in the world. Later, he would regale anyone within earshot with tales of his 25 Camino routes, proudly noting that he only stayed in donativos because they are “basically free for pilgrims.”

It’s moments like these that highlight the strange spectrum of Camino pilgrims and the attitudes they carry with them. Some embrace the spirit of generosity and gratitude; others treat the albergues as freebies to be mined. In our view, donativos are the heart of the traditional Camino experience.  Yet, for others, the expectation seems to be giving the bare minimum - or nothing at all. On the Camino Francés in Bercianos, we were told, “We are using the money from yesterday to care for you today, so remember that your funds will help another pilgrim tomorrow.”  That principle, simple yet profound, of paying it forward, has stayed with us for years. 

Today, with rising expectations for comfort and increasing pressures on albergues, the generosity that once sustained them is at risk. Many rely on municipalities to stay open, and the idea that donativos are “free” has grown far too common. A modest contribution may seem small, but it is what keeps a centuries-old tradition alive. Without it, the Camino loses more than just roofs - it loses its soul.

Bunk Beds and Laundry

Once we checked in, we grabbed the first available bunk - though the people in front of us had staked out the bottoms of every other bunk, turning the room into a minefield of belongings. No chance for a shower: the older pilgrims had turned into a whirlwind, racing for the washrooms and showers and proceeding to monopolize them like it was a competition. The first hour was completely lost to the chaos.

While the “shower race” raged inside, we seized a quieter moment to tackle our laundry. Outside, I was pushed off the laundry sink by two older men, insisting that they had arrived first and I should wait.  Then, as I used our foldable camping bucket to continue to wash our clothes, I was further critiqued.  Ignoring their protests, we washed everything anyway, hung it on the ample washing lines, and finally stepped out to explore town and pick up groceries, grateful to leave the albergue madness behind us.

Exploring Castilblanco de los Arroyos

Walking around, we found Castilbranco de Arroyos to be a nice-looking village full of beautiful white washed buildings, reminding us of communities along the Rota Vicentina in Portugal.  We ventured to visit the grocery store, getting bread and jam for breakfast, and bread and cheese for dinner.

Then we walked down to the Igreja de San Salvador.  It was a beautiful church inside, with a dark wooden ceiling, which is unusual in Spain.  Luckily for us, there was a very nice young priest present, and we were able to receive a stamp for our pilgrim passports just before the church was closed. 

One of the highlights of visiting the church was that it has four large White Stork nests on the roof, with two additional nests on the adjacent building.  The nests we could see into had two chicks each in them, which struck us as unusual.  In any case, we had enjoyed watching the storks circling high above us all afternoon, and it was interesting to see where they lived.

Evening in the Albergue

With the temperatures outside now unbearable, we returned to the albergue, writing in our travel journals and planning the coming stages. Our plan for tomorrow was to walk out at five or six in the morning and cover the fifteen kilometres along the highway before the sun rose or the heat became too oppressive. It seemed likely that we would end up at the municipal again.

We settled into a cold art room downstairs, lined with photographs, while many of the other pilgrims were napping and insisting on silence upstairs. The contrast between their rigid routines and our slow exploration was striking, but it gave us a quiet space to reflect.

By late afternoon, we moved outside, enjoying a bottle of wine and dinner. It was a simple evening meal, but one that felt earned after a long day of trekking, albergue chaos, and relentless heat.

Busy Year on the Via de la Plata

Sitting outside, we were stunned when, at six in the evening, a young Englishman stumbled in, weary after trekking forty-two kilometres from Seville. He was exhausted, as the last town some twenty kilometres back had been full, and he had been told to keep going. 

Hearing this, the hospitaleros here in Castilblanco de Los Arroyos explained that this year had been overwhelmingly busy and warned that we might all face problems in the coming days, as albergues varied in the number of bunks available. They suspected the high numbers on the Via de la Plata were the result of the sheer crowds on the Camino Francés, Camino Portugués, and Camino del Norte in previous years, combined with a pent-up desire to walk in nature after Covid.

By ten o’clock, it was time for bed. The albergue was very busy, very full, and very warm with everything sealed shut. As I went to change into clothes to sleep in, I noticed that something was off with my backpack, but in the dark, I could not tell what it was. Assuming it was just fatigue playing tricks on me, I climbed into my bunk, bringing our second day on the Via de la Plata to an end.

See you on the Way!