Forests, Fields and Fence lines: Canaveral to Galisteo

 "Sometimes, the best therapy is a long hike in the mountains."

Via de la Plata Stage 15

Taxis on the Via de la Plata

We have often said that we have no issue with people who take taxis on long-distance trails or while on pilgrimage.  Everyone sets out and undertakes their own Camino, their own way. Sometimes, taxis are the only way that some people can complete certain stages.  With that said, there seem to be side effects to taking a taxi. 

On this stage, I was reminded of one of the subtle truths about pilgrim albergues: they work because, for the most part, we all share the same rhythm. Pilgrims who hike each stage tend to rise early, walk long distances, and collapse into bed not long after sunset. It’s a demanding schedule, but one that feels natural on the trail.

When people rely on taxis, however, their routines often fall out of sync with the group. Sharing space with them can feel a bit like staying in a hostel with surfers on the Rota Vicentina - two different lifestyles colliding under the same roof. The result is often a clash of expectations: multiple bunks claimed, laundry racks monopolized, long afternoon naps leading to frustration when others arrive mid-day, and late-night reading sessions on bright electronic devices that stretch into the small hours.

Of course, walking pilgrims hardly live “normal” lives either. Going to bed at 7 or 8 PM, after rising at dawn to cover 30 kilometres, is its own kind of absurd. But when routines diverge too far, it becomes harder to find that unspoken harmony which makes communal living possible.

Evening on the Camino

Last night offered a prime example of how easily the fragile balance of a pilgrim dormitory can be disrupted. Two French pilgrims we’ve crossed paths with since Seville and who prefer to limit their daily walks to about 10 km by taking taxis - spent much of the night on an entirely different schedule. After napping all afternoon, from 1 AM onward, they lay in their bunks reading on iPads and Kindles, the glow of their screens glaring through thin blankets and filling the room.

The usual chorus of a full albergue followed throughout the night. Lights clicked on and off as people shuffled to the washroom, bags rustled and belongings dropped, and whispered conversations stretched into the evening. Even when a Norwegian pilgrim politely asked for quiet, the request was ignored. Eventually, one exasperated walker in our room gave up and left at 4 AM, which triggered a domino effect - the French couple sprang into action, shuffling about, bumping bunks, and coming in and out of the room with headlamps flashing into every corner and every bed, ours included.

By 5:00 AM, the dorm had dissolved into chaos.  The night was done.

At least you can say this....by staying in albergues, you are guaranteed to be up and walking early each day.  

Early Morning on the Via de la Plata

As others raced in circles, packing their small bags and making their breakfast, we slipped on our backpacks and headed out.  As we slipped out of the albergue, the gentleman with the walking cart was busy in the corner trying to convince yet another pilgrim that they should try pushing his gear (and wine) for the day. 

Quietly escaping, we walked out the door.  Outside, all I kept thinking was that today would be the perfect day for a short stage...unfortunately, that is not the case.  

Thankfully, a few blocks down the street, we found a churros place that was open and serving breakfast to both pilgrims and residents alike.  The place was packed with people, including quite a few pilgrims we hadn't previously seen.  The café con leche and warm buttery toast felt like life savers this morning.

Eventually, we left the morning bustle of the café behind, passing those pilgrims outside waiting for the local bus or their taxis, and followed the paved highway to the edge of town.  The air was almost chilly, and the sky above was mostly blue, decorated with fluffy pink and yellow clouds.  It was an extremely refreshing feeling to be out of the stuffy heat and overwhelming fug of the dorm and to be back on our way.

Climbing the Camino

Soon, the yellow arrows directed us away from the road and up a rather steep dirt track.  It was a long climb, up past homes, an olive grove, and a utility corridor that was buzzing as we passed below.  Beyond the small farms, the forested hills rose steeply up, their rocky tops already glowing golden in the rising sun.

Behind us, we could see the white buildings and red roofs of Canaveral and the hilly valley stretching out beyond it.  As the sun rose, it created a very interesting pattern of light and shadows among the many tiny hills that dotted the landscape like moguls on a ski hill.

It was a beautiful sunrise, filled with golden light. Up and up we climbed, the trail getting steeper as we went.  Both of us were glad that this climb was at the beginning of the day when we were still fresh and energized.   Eventually, we arrived at the top of the ridge, named the Alto de los Castanos, and found ourselves in a quiet pine forest.  The sandy reddish track wound off between the trees and into the distance.  It was very peaceful, and we enjoyed the shade and fresh, tangy-smelling air after the steep climb.

Forests and Cork Trees

Eventually, the pines gave way to cork trees, and we found ourselves following a grassy farm track through a different kind of forest.  The black, gnarled tree trunks made interesting, twisted shapes all around us, beneath a canopy of light green leaves.  We could imagine that if it were foggy, this landscape would have looked even more magical and possibly a little spooky. 

Around 8 km into our hike, we came to the turnoff for the village of Grimaldo.  Thinking it would be nice to take a break and have a second coffee at this point, we headed off on the 1 km detour to the village.  The track was overgrown, but clearly marked...at least at first.

However, as we progressed, the footpath became narrower and narrower, and the grass became taller and taller.  Eventually, the path petered out entirely, leaving us faced with a locked metal gate on one side and a fast-moving stream on the other.  The water looked like it was knee deep, and we didn't see any stepping stones. It didn't seem worthwhile to get wet shoes in search of a bar that might not even be open.  So, somewhat crestfallen, we turned back in defeat. 

Drained and Dispirited

Not only did we have to give up on the idea of a café con leche, but having spent half an hour messing about, we now had a new worry. 

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that today our Camino became something of a silent race - an attempt to outpace a fellow pilgrim we hadn't quite clicked with.  He was a kind enough man, but he wanted more company, more conversation, and more assistance with moving his cart than we were prepared to offer.  Added to the fact, his bar bills passed onto us were only increasing by the night.  In addition to this, we have always preferred to walk by ourselves, interacting with other pilgrims during rest breaks and in the evenings, but otherwise enjoying the peaceful solitude of the trail in between.  Our hints to this effect had fallen on deaf ears, so we had quietly picked up our pace.  

For better or worse, the Camino demands a lot of energy - physical, emotional, and social - and by this point, we were feeling drained.  We had trekked for 15 days on the Via de la Plata on top of 9 days spent on the Via Augusta.

We're not proud of it, but the last thing we wanted was to maintain a constant and polite conversation while carrying our own packs and helping to drag a heavy cart through the mud for hours on end.  What had started as a casual walk turned into an exhausting escape mission, our decisions and actions today being determined not by how we were feeling or what we were seeing, but by a quiet need to stay ahead, or at least avoid an unwanted encounter. 

In the end, it reminded us that even a pilgrimage isn’t just about scenic views and grand insights - it’s also about navigating personalities, personal boundaries, and your own limits, something we clearly aren't too skilled at.

Navigating Dehasas

So, for much of the morning, while frequently looking over our shoulders, we followed a rocky farm track through peaceful dehesas.   The tall grass was punctuated with clumps of Spanish lavender in full bloom, small granite boulders covered in colourful lichens and mosses, as well as a subtle wash of wildflowers. 

The well-spaced trees were alive with birds, with many Eurasian Linnets, European Greenfinches, Black Redstarts and Blue Tits flitting between the canopies looking for food and feeding young.

The dehesas are not just open forests of oak, but they also have herds of cows, sheep, pigs, and horses grazing beneath the trees.  As a result, it was a day of walking through many cattle gates.  This can be an adventure in itself, as each gate tends to open slightly differently, and some are rather awkward and stiff to operate. For example, in one case, it was necessary to use a rock placed on top of the gatepost to hammer open a latch that well and truly stuck.

One of the mysteries that kept us occupied today was passing through a section of dehesa that looked like any other, except that it had 30-foot-tall towers with surveillance cameras installed every 100 ft or so.  There was also a triple row of wire fences surrounding it. We thought maybe there were wild animals in the enclosure, but really, we have no idea what secrets lie beyond the fence.

Via de la Plata Logistics

There were a number of different options we could have taken today, the first of which was a detour to Riolobos.  In the end, we decided against this as it looked like it would involve more road walking than the alternative. Instead, we continued on the quiet farm tracks, eventually descending off the ridge.  Below us, we could see a wide, dark river snaking across the landscape, and beyond that, forested hills receded into the distance.

We hadn't seen any hikers up until this point, but as we descended the hill, we met two Spanish pilgrims who we've bumped into several times in the past few days.  At the bottom of the hill, we discovered that we had to cross a wide, shallow creek, either by balancing precariously on a thin line of river stones or by taking off our shoes and wading. 

One of the Spanish pilgrims balanced across, and I followed suit, managing not to fall in on the way.  The other woman and Sean both decided to wade across. Just as they reached the halfway point, a tiny, ancient car came driving down the track and confidently drove across the water way, bumping over the river stones without getting stuck.  Amazing. 

Roadway Walking

Once across the river, the trail climbed steeply up an embankment and began following along the side of a busy highway.  However, instead of walking on the pavement, we followed a very overgrown footpath that was wedged between the guard rail and a barbed wire fence.  It was a bit precarious on the steep slopes, and wading through the tall thistles and grasses made us wary of ticks.

Finally, the arrows directed us across the highway and up a steep gravel road.  The road crossed through a cattle ranch, and on both sides of it were grazing cattle.  To our surprise, right as we began the climb, we passed two cow carcasses piled on top of each other.  This reminded us of the huge Eurasian Griffons we saw yesterday and the important service they provide in cleaning up carcasses.

Approaching Galisteo

When we finally reached the top of the climb, the views opened up ahead of us, and we could see the walled village of Galisteo in the distance, perched atop a hill.  The town was dominated by the church and a tall tower.

Galisteo and its impressive fortifications appeared, disappeared, and reappeared over the next hour as both the landscape and our perspective shifted. We had only five or six kilometres to go before reaching the town, but much of the route wound through very muddy lanes, around large puddles, and along long corridors amid pastures and grazing cattle.

As we followed a narrow lane bordered by hedges, the trail came alive with butterflies, dragonflies, wildflowers, and linnets flitting beside us. A flock of birds danced along the path, their movements almost like a performance, while the wind flowing through the poplars sounded like rushing water.

The final climb was relentless. The city disappeared from view as we climbed higher and higher. Even a passing cyclist, cheerful and waving, eventually had to dismount and walk her bike up the slope. When we finally crested the hill, we found ourselves once again amid open cow pastures, catching our breath before the final stretch into Galisteo.

Walking into Galisteo

It was mid-afternoon when we climbed into town and settled at the first bar below the castle to relax. Sonya used the time to make reservations for the next two stages, sorting out the albergue challenges and the long stretches that lay ahead. After a couple of cans of cold Aquarius, we felt ready to end today’s trek.

We wandered up into town, strolling along the Almohad walls and through the medieval historical quarter, passing beneath the large gate in the walls.

Eventually, we made our way to our accommodations for the evening, the Pension Le Parador, run by Jesus. It was a really lovely place. There, we ran into the cyclist who had passed us earlier - her name was Imogen, a solo rider from Scotland traversing the Iberian Peninsula on a mixture of the Eurovelo routes, from Faro in Portugal to Irun in Spain.  It sounded like a terrific journey!

In another room at the pension, an Italian lady on the Camino struck up a conversation. She had just retired and wanted us to know that the Spanish word for retirement translates as “celebration,” which, as she pointed out, certainly beats the English notion of being “a useless old goat”. We couldn’t have agreed more; it was such a wonderful way to think about this stage of life.

Afterwards, we took our showers and washed our clothes, hanging them outside to dry in the warm afternoon sun.

Exploring Galisteo

After resting and cleaning up, we set off to explore Galisteo. We wandered up through the historic part of town, a neat area full of whitewashed homes and a striking historic tower. We walked along the tops of the city walls, where stone residences lined the inside of the fortifications, while modern homes stretched just outside the walls. It was a really cool place, and we found ourselves daydreaming about buying a home in the walled sector and building a large garden.

Later, we returned to the pension to catch up on a bit of work before heading out again. We picked up a few groceries and enjoyed a couple more cans of cold Aquafina in the Plaza España at the center of town. All around us, storks perched atop buildings, while black redstarts flitted along the walls. From the tops of the city walls, we were treated to amazing views of the Jerte Valley - a perfect blend of history, nature, and the quiet magic of wandering through a town that feels suspended in time.

It was in these small, wandering moments when we were able to explore communities, climb city walls, spot birds, and watch the world unfold that the Camino reminded us why the journey is as much about discovery and reflection as it is about miles walked.

Later in the day, after enjoying a simple dinner of sandwiches and crisps, we set out once again into the historic center of Galisteo. The evening brought an amazing sunset across the landscape as we wandered along the city walls. As darkness fell, we walked the walls again, watching the sun sink behind the hills while swifts darted overhead and frogs called from below. 

   

We meandered through the historic fortifications, photographing the moment and observing swallows, bats, and storks going about their evening routines. It was a stunningly beautiful day on the trail, the kind that reminds you why every long step of the Camino is worth it.

See you on the Way!