A Camino in Three Parts: Galisteo to Oliva de Plasencia

 "The earth’s pulse can only be heard by those who take their time to listen.”

Via de la Plata Stage 16

Pilgrimage on the Way

According to the guidebook, today’s stage would have taken us a very short 10.8 km from Galisteo to Carcaboso. Yet, with energy to spare and the road calling, we chose instead to press on to Oliva de Plasencia, bringing our total to 27 km. In many ways, it felt most accurate to think of the day as a Camino in three parts.

The first part carried us across 18 km of beautiful roads and open pasturelands, where the rhythm of our steps matched the quiet feel of the countryside.

The second part was a stark contrast to what I can only describe as a “return to nature.” Here, the skies opened, drenching us in downpours that turned to hail, as the trail itself dissolved into rivers of muck and animal droppings swirling in the flood. 

The third part was our arrival into Oliva de Plasencia - sodden, tired, and ready for the day's end. It was, in the truest sense, a Pilgrim’s Progress: not only in distance gained, but in endurance, patience, and perspective earned.

Returning to the Camino

We began the morning with a quiet walk through the town of Galisteo, circling along the historic walls in the hope of watching the sunrise. The skies, however, remained too cloudy to reveal it. Instead, the day opened gently with a café con leche and toasted bread at the local bar.

Back at the albergue, we packed up, lingering in the scent of fresh bread drifting from the panadería that had just opened beside our lodging. It was the kind of detail that made us wish we could stay longer - Galisteo is a place we could easily imagine spending much more time in. The walled town, with its rich history and charm, had captured us.

Having delayed long enough by 8 AM, it was time to continue on and return to the Via de la Plata.  As we set out, at least according to the online weather predictions, there was only a small chance of it raining today. 

Leaving Galisteo behind, we crossed the Puente Romano over the River Jerte, the arches of the ancient bridge reflected in the calm water beneath a soft, brightening sky. From there, the way wound through modern roundabouts, each turn offering a glimpse back at the town’s stone walls, which seemed to linger on the horizon.

The landscape soon shifted. We passed fields dotted with greenhouses and walked through the quiet community of Aldehuela de Jerte, a small village that felt welcoming in the morning light.  Beyond, the trail stretched into a broad agricultural landscape, giving way to the open dehesa, whose expansive forested pastures have become a defining feature of this part of the Via de la Plata.

Walking into Carcaboso

In Carcaboso, the Camino revealed a different kind of history - modern creativity expressed in a series of colourful murals inspired by American film and cinema. They brightened the walls as we entered town, lending a sense of playfulness to the route.

Wandering through town, we stepped into the first bar where 2 cans of Aquarius set us back 10 Euros. Stowing our cold refreshments, we continued on until we located another open cafe, Zapp 2.0, where the coffee was excellent and we could enjoy a welcome pause. Here, the prices were reasonable, and we were reminded that just as prices vary from village to village, so too can they vary from place to place.

Carcaboso struck us as a curious blend - at once odd, friendly, and welcoming. Crosses stood at the edge of town, a reminder of its pilgrim connections, and many walkers chose to end their short stage here. In many ways, as we walked on, we regretted that we didn’t have time to visit the Iglesia de Santiago Apóstol. As if to make up for it, the Camino offered us a small gift on the way out of town: two Roman mile markers standing quietly beside the trail, simple and timeless witnesses to centuries of journeys before ours.

Forests and Pasturelands

Continuing on, the route led us through beautiful, tree-dotted pastures where the narrow path was hemmed in by long, elegant stone walls. They seemed to stretch for miles, a testament to generations of careful work shaping this landscape. The scenery was idyllic - scattered boulders resting like sculptures, patches of shade beneath the trees, and herds of cattle and sheep grazing quietly in the fields.

The only drawback was underfoot. Days of rain had left the trail thick with mud, and every step required attention and care. Yet even as we picked our way forward, the beauty of the pastures and the timeless presence of the stone walls made this stretch feel peaceful and rewarding.

Downpours and Hail Storms 

Then, without warning, the skies darkened and, within seconds, rain became a downpour, which in turn changed into a hail storm which hammered down. We barely had time to snap open our sun umbrellas before the deluge struck.  There was no chance to fumble for rain jackets or rain pants. A light breeze offered little relief, but in moments we were soaked through.

The landscape transformed before our eyes. Fields and dehesas became swamps, and the narrow track turned into a rushing stream. Even the familiar stone Camino markers stood half-submerged in pools of water, as though the trail itself were dissolving. We zigzagged across fields, trying in vain to avoid the worst patches, though soon it became clear the only real goal was to keep our footing and not tumble into the mud.

Through the downpour, we spotted the Basque couple ahead, shuffling carefully through the flooded pastures. The trails had become rivers, the sheer weight of water overwhelming everything. It was wild, exhausting, and strangely exhilarating - a reminder of how quickly the Camino can strip away control and immerse us in the raw elements.

Turtle Ponds and Bird Life

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the storm broke apart and sunlight returned. The trail brightened, glistening with the sheen of rainwater, and our spirits lifted with the change.

It was at this moment that the Camino wound alongside a large pond - alive with turtles. We paused here for nearly half an hour, enchanted by the sight. Dozens of Mediterranean turtles basked on rocks and fallen logs, their shells gleaming in the fresh sun.

The pond was a haven for wildlife. Overhead, Black Kites circled lazily, while along the shallows we watched a Grey Heron and a Great Egret move with patient elegance. In the water itself, life teemed: Iberian Painted Frogs and Iberian Spadefoot tadpoles stirred the shallows.

It felt like a reward after the chaos of the storm. A moment of stillness and wonder in nature. From there, the path eventually drew us back toward the roadway, where the turnoff pointed the way to our destination for the night, Oliva de Plasencia.

Crossroads on the Camino 

When we reached the main road, we spotted the Basque couple again, along with several other pilgrims, slipping quickly into waiting taxis. They were gone before we caught up. By now, we had learned that while taxis are a common way to bridge the longer stretches of the Via de la Plata, many pilgrims seem reluctant to be seen making use of them. There’s a quiet tension between the ideal of walking every step and the practicalities of time, fatigue, and comfort.

From this junction, the options were clear: continue six more kilometres along the Camino to the Arco, where Casa Rurals offer pickup, or veer 6.5 kilometres off-route to the village of Oliva de Plasencia, which also has several Casa Rurals and an albergue. Not wishing to rely on pickups or transport, we chose the latter.

Long Road Walk

What followed, however, was no easy finish. Soaked, footsore, and tired, we found ourselves trudging along the edge of a busy road - a long, exposed slog that took us just over two hours. Cars skimmed uncomfortably close to the grassy verge; one in particular, a brown car with a huge, erratic driver, gave us the impression that the local bar had just emptied. 

Still, even on this unpleasant stretch, nature offered small rewards: a heron, an egret, and a turtle all sharing the same sunlit rock.

Those brief moments of wonder were welcome distractions as we pushed on toward Oliva de Plasencia.

Albergue Check-in

By 4 PM, we walked into Oliva de Plasencia, following the signs that pointed us through the streets. We dutifully wound our way along, only to eventually give in to Google and discover that the albergue was actually at the very beginning of town - mere steps from where we had first arrived. When we finally found the door, a French pilgrim opened it just long enough to shrug, tell us to call the hostess, before promptly closing and locking it again.

Some days on the Camino are just like this.

So we sank to the ground outside and made the call. To her credit, the hostess came quickly, but the situation descended into a kind of chaotic comedy. She immediately began rushing around, shouting at everyone in sight because the key to the front door had gone missing. Nearly an hour passed before she seemed to remember that several new pilgrims were still waiting, hoping to check in.

Eventually, I managed to get her attention long enough to pay and secure two beds in a small four-person room.

Spanish Drama

When we tried to head upstairs to our beds, the hostess erupted again, racing around in a panic. The village store had unexpectedly closed for the day, and the only restaurant was fully reserved. In short, no food for the pilgrims. Strangely, she seemed almost proud of this revelation, as though it added to the excitement of the evening. When we didn’t react with the level of distress she seemed to expect, she recruited a British cyclist to re-translate her message, as though surely we hadn’t understood.

He dutifully repeated her words and then simply remarked that it looked like dinner would be “a liquid lunch tonight.” I shrugged and said it was fine, as we had supplies. This, however, sent the hostess into a full meltdown. She pulled at her hair, wailing about pilgrims not eating after walking all day and the terrible things people might say about her albergue. The British cyclist kept translating her every lament to the gathered group, turning it all into a kind of absurd performance.

At that moment, a German pilgrim calmly came down the stairs, took in the scene, and summed it up in a single line: “Such is Spain...and the drama that the people here love to have.”

Grumpy Welcome

Slipping away from the latest drama being dutifully repeated for each new pilgrim downstairs, we climbed up to the bedroom we’d been assigned to share with two others. Inside, we found both men already tucked in - having taken a taxi earlier in the day, they had arrived well before the storm and were now bundled in down jackets beneath thick duvets. No sooner had we entered than they informed us that we could not shower, unpack, or do anything else in the room, as it was now officially “rest time” as they were about to have a nap and did not want to be disturbed.

So, with little choice, we quietly dropped our packs, slipped into our sandals, and retreated once more - this time back to a local bar, where at least we could sit in peace.

Finding Dinner in Oliva de Plasencia

As it turned out, our hostess hadn’t been entirely honest - there was indeed another bar in town, though it wasn’t one owned by her family or friends. We wandered over, still in our damp hiking clothes, and gratefully sat down to a couple of cold beers. Before long, other pilgrims began to drift in, including the group of English cyclists and our friend Imogen.

Together we shared a hearty evening meal, salad, fries, eggs, and wine, for 18 Euros each. After the day we’d had, the cost didn’t bother us in the least. We were simply grateful to sit down, share food, and chat with other pilgrims to hear their stories.

Nighttime Activities 

Blessedly full from our wonderful dinner, we returned to the albergue around 8 PM, eager for rest. After such a long day, we were simply grateful to have beds waiting for us. Little did we know, however, that our night’s sleep would come to an abrupt end at 2 AM.

Only a few hours after we had changed and lain down, both of our roommates were suddenly wide awake, shuffling back and forth to the washroom and then lying in bed with their Kindles blazing bright light into the room. Each time they noticed that we were awake as a result, they would hurriedly switch their devices off, roll over, and begin a theatrical snore - as though to prove they were sleeping. Inevitably, within five or ten minutes, the glow of a screen would pierce the darkness again.

By 4 AM, the two began conferring in loud stage whispers, discussing when their taxi would arrive and double-checking their reservations online for the next stage. That hushed but relentless conversation marked the end of any chance of sleep for us.

Nights like this have a way of shaping the Camino as much as the long walks do. On this journey, it seemed, whether by fate or sheer bad luck, that our accommodations rarely worked out in our favour...or at the very least peacefully.  I have begun to wonder whether this constant stream of trials was yet another means of confirming that the Via de la Plata was less of a pilgrimage route and more of a test of endurance. 

See you on the Way!