Amazing Vistas and Insights: Aljucen to Alcuescar

 “On long roads, friends meet friends.”

Via de la Plata Stage 11

Rainy Morning on Camino

Last night was wonderfully quiet, peaceful, and comfortable.  It made us remember what it feels like to actually sleep well, which is not something we are able to do often, either at home or on the Camino. This makes us appreciate a good night's sleep all the more when we find ourselves in a quiet and peaceful place.  We would have been very happy to stay another day in the little Roman villa, especially when we opened the window to see a torrential downpour going on outside.

Putting off the inevitable, we went to breakfast, which seemed like a luxurious feast compared to our usual meal of bread and jam.  We were offered toast, cheese, ham, jam, yogurt, orange juice, café con leche and two pieces of spice cake, which we took with us as a snack for later.  It was a lovely meal, and the cook was incredibly kind to us.

Around 8:30 AM, we couldn't delay any further and finally stepped outside into the rain.  As often happens, the weather turned out to be better than it had looked from inside, at least at first.  The stage ahead was modest, just 22 km, which for us meant about four hours of steady walking. We didn’t want to arrive in the next town too early, before cafés and shops had opened their doors, so there was no rush to begin.

We made our way through town, taking a last look at all the colourful murals, the Camino-themed statues and art, and the special tile markers on the sidewalks and in the middle of the streets.  The Camino spirit was indeed strong in the little village.  We also noticed that, as in the last town, there were saplings lining the street.  Unusually, however, they had been planted into small holes cut into the asphalt of the travelled part of the roadway, rather than beside the pavement, out of the path of cars, as you might expect. 

Return to the Camino 

Leaving Aljucén behind, we soon found ourselves out in the open countryside, where rolling hills stretched before us and sheep grazed contentedly among the meadows. The wide dirt track carried us through a sparsely treed landscape, lined with historic stone walls that enclosed fields now vibrant and green with spring growth. Here and there, the land rose and fell in gentle undulations, scattered with erratic rocks that seemed to have been dropped across the hillsides at random. Wildflowers brightened the edges of the path, adding splashes of colour to a morning already alive with the freshness of spring.

We followed a quiet roadway for a short distance, surrounded by eucalyptus and rain-soaked fields.  The world smelled fresh, and in places carried the spicy scent of eucalyptus forests that always make me think of Galicia.  By this point, it was raining quite hard again, and we were grateful for our umbrellas.  The pilgrims ahead of us were all in rain gear, but it felt too hot for that to be comfortable for us.  An added benefit of carrying the umbrellas was that the sound of the raindrops drumming on their tops almost drowned out the noise of the nearby highway.

Soon we came to the entrance of a Natural Park called the Embalse de Cornalvo Y Sierra Bermeja.  It has been designated as a ZEP (Zone of Environmental Protection), with over 50 important or red-listed species occurring within it, as well as 163 bird species. 

In addition, this park is also home to the mongoose, which is one of the only locations in Europe for this species.  As a result, we set off down the sandy track into the natural area, full of excitement at what we might find there.

Trails, Rivers and Mud

Among other things, we found ourselves walking through an incredibly beautiful landscape.  The sandy golden path curved through grassy fields dotted with holm oaks and olive trees.  Large granite erratics were scattered throughout the overgrown fields, and pieces of lichen-covered rock were sticking up through the tall grasses.  In the distance, the darkened outlines of forested hills disappeared behind sheets of rain.

We were grateful that the wide track was sandy, as the rain was turning it into a bit of a stream.  In several places where actual streams crossed the path, we were also glad for the white marble blocks that had been provided as stepping stones to take us across without getting our feet wet. 

In other places, people and pilgrims had sought to arrange stones to help others cross.  By this point, our shoes didn't have much to lose, as the trail was a small river.  In fact, not long after, we spotted a miniature Natterjack Toad half swimming across the path.

Eventually, the sandy track changed to a bright red mud path bordered by oily dark green rock rose bushes.  These striking shrubs were still adorned with delicate white flowers, their sunny yellow centers contrasting with the dark maroon patterns on some of the blooms.  Intermixed with the rock roses were large clumps of Spanish lavender, which added bright spots of colour to the already stunning landscape.

As we passed through the park, we came across several stone crosses, some of which had the red cross of Santiago painted onto them.  These were the first of their kind that I remember seeing on this Camino, and it served as a nice reminder that this is, first and foremost, a pilgrimage.  We also came across several picnic tables, although with the rain, everything was soaking wet, making a rest stop somewhat impractical.  This didn't stop some of our fellow pilgrims, who were dejectedly sitting in the puddles and consuming a soggy snack.

Bird Life on the Camino 

As the day wore on, the sounds of the highway receded, slowly being replaced by mostly unfamiliar bird song.  Some sections we passed through had large pastures bordered by fieldstone fences, and the musical sound of cowbells worn by the peacefully grazing herds of cattle filled the air.  This is always a sound I associate with walking Caminos, especially crossing the Pyrenees on the Camino Frances.

By early afternoon, the rain tapered off to a light mist.  One of the things that kept us entertained was the incredible bird life. Pairs of European Stonechats kept us company all day, inspecting us from atop the stone walls and wire fences. 

There was also an abundance of Crested and Thekla's Larks moving about in the grasses, and flocks of tits were busily feeding young in the trees.  We caught flashes of blue from Eurasian Jays moving about the fields, and the call of cuckoos occasionally sounded among the trees.

As we approached the town, we began to notice a huge number of hawks and raptors circling in the now clear blue skies above, perched on fence posts, and swooping down into the long grasses after small animals or lizards.  Sometimes they would re-emerge from the grasses with huge, laborious flaps of their wings, rising back up into the sky with their prizes gripped in their dangling talons. Black Kites and Booted Eagles were among their numbers, but there were a few additional species we couldn't identify as well.

Alcuescar Spain

Much of the day's hike had been a steady but quite relentless climb.  As we approached Alcuescar, we began to pass small homes tucked into the hills with large gardens outside, some with dogs or chickens in their yards.  At one point, we caught a glimpse of a small brownish-black animal darting across the road and into the shrubs.  It was there and gone before Sean could take a photo, but we later discovered that it had been an Egyptian Mongoose, which may or may not be native to the Iberian Peninsula, but which was definitely a new species for us to see!

The final stretch into Alcuéscar was a hot, exposed road walk, the heat radiating up from the pavement as the afternoon wore on. By the time we finally entered town, it was already 3 PM - a surprisingly late arrival for what had been intended as a short stage.

We knew there was supposed to be a turnoff for a basilica just before town, and we intended to make the detour to check it out.  However, we never saw any signs or directions to do so, and when we came out to the highway, we realized we had missed it.  We followed the arrows to the convent at the edge of town, where the Camino oddly deviates back into the countryside without taking pilgrims to the church at its center.  Since this was the edge of our stage, we walked into Alcuescar to explore.

When we arrived in Alcuéscar, we tried to find the municipal albergue at the “House of the Poor,” part of the Convent of the Slaves of Mary and the Poor. Yet no matter how we circled the building, we couldn’t figure out how to get inside. Other pilgrims were wandering about in the same confusion, also searching for an entrance. Uncertain of what to do, we drifted to a park on the edge of town and decided to rest for a while on a bench.

In need of refreshments, we stopped at a variety store, only to be stunned by the cost - 15 euros for two bottles of Aquarius and a bag of potato chips. Converted to Canadian dollars, it was the equivalent of paying twenty-five dollars for a couple of small bottles of Coke and a small bag of crisps, a price that felt more than a little extreme.

Sitting in the shade, debating what to do, we discovered that there was another option, the Albergue Turístico, though it was located at the far end of town, perched high on the regional hill. Resigned, we shouldered our packs once again and trudged uphill through Alcuéscar, the afternoon sun making the climb feel longer with each step.

Continuing up the winding streets of the town, eventually arriving in the main square, which was covered by a colourful awning constructed from crocheted circles, each one uniquely patterned and coloured.  It was very cheerful-looking.

Bull Rings and Albergues

We continued climbing until we reached the edge of town, and just when we were about to give up hope, we came to a very modern-looking albergue - on top of a bull ring.  Which might be an odd choice for a pilgrim, but it was noted as having amazing vista views from the rooms. 

We stepped inside, we hoped to check in, and were promptly greeted by an older English-speaking pilgrim who said, 'Come in, enjoy a glass of wine!'  A lady was sweeping the albergue steps, and she kindly checked our names and gave us a key to the room, so we went upstairs to take our showers and do our evening chores first.

The room was large and modern, and one wall had a huge window that overlooked a bull ring and the valley below.  Apparently, the bull ring is still active, with the last fight having taken place only a few nights ago.  I'm not too sure how to feel about that. 

The valley beyond the ring was gorgeous, and it was ringed with forested hills.  It created a bowl-shaped depression, and many birds were soaring on the thermals created by the updrafts.  There were also four active White Stork nests on the church steeple, and the adults were constantly flying back and forth. It was joined by a gorgeous Black Kite, which was circling above the buildings, and we enjoyed seeing it from above.

After showering and doing our laundry, we went downstairs to sit on the large outdoor patio and enjoy the view.  At this point, we understood John's invitation to enjoy a glass of wine - there was an enormous jug of it sitting on the counter in the kitchen area, free to anyone who wanted a taste.  We joined him for a glass and an interesting conversation before heading back to town in search of the grocery store, which would be open later.   

Conversations with a Camino Addict

When we returned to the albergue, the large kitchen was bustling with pilgrims, many of whom we didn’t recognize. Once again, we took refuge on the patio, where the view was as spectacular as ever. Among the crowd was a British man who had just completed the Camino Mozárabe. He was clearly very drunk and boasted about filling several empty bottles with the free wine from the kitchen.

We spent much of the evening chatting with John, whose hiking cart had already caught our attention earlier in the day. Our conversation wandered widely - from current politics in Britain, the EU, and Canada, to reflections on life along the Camino. It was fascinating to hear familiar subjects discussed from a different perspective, and just as engaging to listen to John speak about his passion for pilgrimage.

A self-proclaimed “Camino addict,” he has already completed nineteen routes, and still his enthusiasm hasn’t waned. On this trail, we’ve noticed a pattern as everyone we’ve met so far has already walked at least one Camino before. Inevitably, our conversation turned to what it is that draws us all back, again and again, to these ancient paths.

Finding Purpose in the Modern World

So much of our conversation with John moved back and forth between topics that were instantly relatable and others that were more challenging to grapple with. As we talked at length, it became clear that for him and many people, the Camino’s greatest draw is not just the walking itself, but the camaraderie and conversations it fosters - an antidote, perhaps, to the deep loneliness that shadows so much of our modern world and online lives.

Some of John’s reflections were especially poignant. He spoke openly about the realities of aging, admitting that he didn’t want to simply grow old, sit still, and wait to die. He wanted to keep doing things, to remain active, to be part of something larger than himself. On the Camino, he felt he could find that sense of belonging. As he reiterated, "Here in Spain, pilgrims are welcomed, served, and recognized as part of a shared story." Here, he said, one, as a pilgrim, is always “someone important.”

Many of his words resonated with us. In an impersonal world where few truly listen or speak with one another, it is no wonder that so many set out on pilgrimage again and again - seeking connection, community, and meaning. In the end, we are all searching for something.

As he said: “On the Camino I am important and everyone in Spain takes care of me because they know that all pilgrims should be treated with honour.  Pilgrims are revered here, and I am someone here, and that is why I come back!” 

Reflecting on Pilgrimage

Yet as the conversation unfolded, it also revealed a more complicated side of pilgrimage. The line between genuine experience and simple ego can sometimes blur. On the Via de la Plata, we have already met pilgrims intent on being “number one” each day, racing ahead to claim beds, or others who boast of how many routes they have walked - twenty, thirty, forty, even fifty - as if the count alone conferred meaning on a mystical barometer of worthiness. We’ve heard debates about what makes a “real pilgrim,” or which journeys “truly count” as pilgrimage, as though there were a single definition to contain so many personal paths. There are even those who speak of the Camino in terms of demands, as if the trail itself must provide something in return for the effort given.

Tonight was certainly one for reflection, raising questions about where the line falls between genuine insight, gratitude, helpfulness, and simply being used. John, for example, repeatedly asked others for assistance, filling empty bottles with the free wine to carry with him along the trail. Later, he hinted and inferred that we should push his hiking cart the next day “just to see what it was like.” Moments like these make us pause, unsure whether we are being invited into a shared experience or quietly taken advantage of.

Similarly, there was a Spanish pilgrim who had been travelling the same stages as us for several days, who each evening raided the communal fridge in the albergue. Anything left unlabelled - no matter who had bought it - was swiftly consumed. Though very thin, he devoured immense meals: enormous salads, two or three sandwiches, and tonight an astonishingly large wedge of cheese. We knew that if either of us ate that much in a single sitting, we would have been ill. The same scene played out night after night, and then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone, disappearing from our experiences on the trail entirely.

Connection on the Camino

All of these topics and ideas feel like pieces of a larger conversation - threads that are curiously difficult to articulate with any clarity. Yet beneath John’s words, I thought I caught a hint of loneliness, something I believe many of us on the Camino can quietly relate to. In the end, I think we are all out here searching for connection of one kind or another, whether through conversations, community, or simply the act of walking together.

As the day came to a close, we were given a fitting reminder of beauty and impermanence: a stunning sunset stretched across the sky, framed by a distant lightning storm flashing over the horizon. For a brief moment, rainbows arched against the fading light, as if the trail itself wished to underscore the wonder in the ordinary.

As the sun set, a series of storms rolled in across the valley.  We could see lightning beyond the farthest peaks, and showers rolling across the dark outlines of the hills in the distance.  However, closer to us, we spotted a rainbow that was there and then gone as quickly as it had appeared.  When the sunset it put on a gorgeous show, making me think this might have been one of the best views we've had from any albergue. 

See you tomorrow on the Way!