Halfway and Meseta: Morille to Salamanca

 "Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out."
Robert Collier

Via de la Plata Stage 21

Halfway on the Via de la Plata

Today was better than yesterday, but perhaps that doesn't say much.  Sean woke up feeling achy, tired, and sore, with little energy and now a black eye that is in full bloom along with a very swollen cheek.  The apartment was so quiet and peaceful last night that we didn't want to get up or leave.  We were sorely tempted to stay another night, taking a rest day and time to explore the tiny village that somehow has two museums and an underground art collection.  However, perhaps unwisely, we decided to push on, driven by the prospect of catching up with friends we haven't seen since Merida over dinner, as well as keeping ahead of a group of pilgrims we haven't managed to click with and have little desire to encounter again. 

Today promised to be a significant milestone, as Salamanca lay only 21 kilometres ahead. This city is one of the most important stops along the Via de la Plata, and for those who continue along the Camino Sanabrés to Santiago de Compostela, it marks the halfway point of the pilgrimage. The idea of being halfway is encouraging, yet also daunting. We feel as though we have already given so much of ourselves to reach this place, and the thought that an equal distance still lies ahead is exhausting. Since setting out from Cádiz on the Via Augusta (175 km) and then continuing from Seville on the Via de la Plata (nearly 500 km), we have now covered almost as much ground as if we had chosen the Camino Francés. On that route, we would already be nearing the end of our pilgrimage.

Morning in Morille

After a simple breakfast in our apartmentos, we stepped out the door and made our way back to the main square. There, a sign reminded us of both the distance behind and the road still to come: 428 kilometres to Santiago de Compostela via the Camino Sanabrés.

The morning was dark, overcast, and cold, and as we set off, a light mist was falling.  This did nothing to improve our spirits or make the walk away from the cozy room we had in Morille more appealing.  

With our backpacks on, we locked our door and walked through town.  We spotted amazing artwork, terrific metal work and a number of Camino symbols. 

Within a few hundred meters, we were already outside the village, following the light golden band of the dirt road that snaked off across the fields.

Following the Camino

At first, the scenery seemed to be an eclectic mix of different elements.  A solar panel farm sat to our right, attempting to collect sunshine that today was in short supply.  To our left, a large square of tilled brown earth sat quietly waiting to be planted with crops.  The next field was filled with lush green grass and artistically divided by curving fieldstone walls.  The next hill was home to a herd of cows, while the following dip in the landscape was filled by a small pond that was full of frogs calling out to their future mates. 

As we progressed across the gently rolling hills, we saw laid out before us a classic Camino portrait.  The long trail snaked across the rolling hills, surrounded by the open fields of the Meseta. 

It is clear that spring is just beginning here, as the path was bordered by brilliant red poppies, their petals still fresh and glowing amid the other tiny yellow, white, and purple wildflowers.  On the south side of the mountains, the poppies have already faded. 

The first rain shower hit around 9 AM, turning the patchwork of fields around us into a glowing blanket of greens, reds, and rich browns.  At one point, we crossed through a cattle farm, where we struggled with the rusty gates, and carefully weaved our way around a bull, several nursing calves and their mothers. 

As we began to descend, we passed through another peaceful dehesa.

Views of Salamanca

Around 10 AM, we crested a hill and suddenly saw a panoramic view of the buildings and roofs of Salamanca grouped together in the distance, the four dark steeples of the Cathedral clearly visible against the stormy skies. 

It was a bittersweet sight - quite beautiful from a distance, but even before we had arrived, we could hear its distant roar, and for all the interesting sights, we weren't looking forward to the noise and the crowds.

About 7 km from the heart of Salamanca, we passed the tiny village of Miranda de Azán, sitting tucked into its own tiny valley.  It seemed to be pilgrim-friendly, with a large sign out front indicating it had a bar, a sello (stamp), and several other services. 

The clouds were threatening rain again, so we decided to detour into the town to see if we could get a café con leche while the rain passed.  Someone had pencilled in '10:00 AM’ on the sign for the bar at the edge of town, but although it was well after this, as so often happens on this Camino, the bar remained firmly closed. 

After retracing the road back to the Camino and taking a short break on a bench outside Miranda de Azan, we continued on, following the dirt track towards Salamanca.  At one point, we came to a split, with one tiny Via de la Plata sticker and our Wise Pilgrim App suggesting we go straight and over a hill into the city, and about four large yellow arrows desperately indicating we should turn left toward a suburban district, a path listed as 'alternate' in the Cicerone guide.

We headed down the 'alternate' route, which I think may now have become the official way.  As we have seen on the VDLP on a number of occasions, the transition between the country and the cities are almost seamless.  As such, this stretch turned out to be a very nice approach to Salamanca. 

At first, we continued to follow our dirt track, getting nice views of the city across the open fields.  Eventually, we ducked under a road through a tunnel and then began following a pedestrian/cycling route towards the city center.

Cafe con Leche in Aldeatejada

Around a kilometre outside the city, the cycling path took us through a suburb, where we were happy to discover an open café.  Just as we were arriving, a tour bus pulled up outside and began disgorging its passengers for a comfort break.  I nipped in to order two café con leches, but was soon overwhelmed by a crowd of about 30 people, all trying to push their way through the tiny doorway and space up to the bar. It felt a little like I might get crushed, and when I finally had two coffees in hand, it was a juggling act to get them back outside.  Sean didn't fare too much better on the patio, which was quickly overrun with spinning tourists.

After our brief but much-appreciated break, we continued on, following the cycling path across town, passed signs for a pilgrim albergue and a refuge for pilgrims (a bench and a water fountain), and up to the base of the impressive Puente Romana.  It poured very hard just as we were approaching the bridge, prompting us to take shelter in the lee of a gas station wall, but luckily, the deluge was short-lived.

Hiking into Salamanca 

The approach to Salamanca on foot is an impressive one, and it is easy to understand why the city has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site and is considered among the most beautiful in Spain. Its roots stretch deep into history, with traces of human presence dating back to the Iron Age in the 8th century BCE. Like so many towns and cities along the Via de la Plata, Salamanca bears the layers of many civilizations. Long before the Romans arrived, it was home to the Vettones, only to be later attacked by Hannibal. The Romans eventually founded the settlement of Helmantica, leaving behind enduring works such as the bridge across the Tormes River. After the decline of the Roman Empire and a period of Visigothic rule, Salamanca came under Muslim control until 1102, when the foundations of the medieval city began to rise, built from stone quarried locally. At the heart of this remarkable city lies the Plaza Mayor, a grand square celebrated as one of the most beautiful in all of Europe.

We crossed the long Roman stone bridge, with its many arches, that spans the Rio Tormes.  The city rose up before us, and we could see the steeples of the Cathedrals dominating the skyline ahead.  As we climbed the steep cobblestone streets, the crowds became thicker, and when we arrived outside the Cathedral, for the third time in our lives, we became 'Exhibit A' for a tour guide who began explaining to her group that we were real, live pilgrims walking from Seville to Santiago. This has happened to us while walking the Via Podiensis / GR65 in France, and also in Porto while walking the Camino Portuguese.  As a result, we were soon encircled by camera-laden tourists all taking pictures, posing beside us, and poking at our backpacks.

Extracting ourselves politely, the Camino led us past the Cathedral, the University, and the Casa de las Conchas, before navigating our way up one of the main tourist streets to the Plaza Mayor. 

The street was lined with restaurants and cafés, and tables filled the center of the road.  It was extremely busy despite the rain, both with tourists and with students from the nearby university.  Somehow, after struggling for so long in the muddy, rain-soaked countryside, walking long stages, and battling to keep a positive and open mindset while living with the constant disappointment of finding no food, the energy and bustle of Salamanca felt reassuring and welcome.  

Plaza Mayor

When we arrived in the Plaza Mayor, we found the iconic square alive with activity, its broad expanse filled with stalls for a Literary Festival. Even amidst the bustle, the beauty of the square was unmistakable. 

The arcaded facades that frame the plaza are adorned with sculpted medallions of Spain’s most storied figures, including Cervantes, El Cid, and Christopher Columbus.  Each reminder of the city’s deep historical and cultural roots. Purportedly, this plaza was designed not only as a civic space but also as the symbolic heart of Salamanca. The Plaza Mayor has hosted bullfights, markets, celebrations, and gatherings for centuries. 

This UNESCO Heritage site was designed and its construction was directed by master craftsman Alberto Churriguera of the famed Churriguera brothers, whose work had its greatest and longest lasting impact in Salamanca, where many of the buildings and monuments reflect their highly decorated, ornate and dramatic style. 

Enjoying the look and feel of this stunning square, we settled at a small table along the edge of the square, ordered a couple of cold pints, and let the afternoon drift by. From our seats, we could watch the festival-goers mingle beneath the golden sandstone buildings, the whole scene bathed in light that seemed to make the plaza glow. It was the perfect place to pause, relax, and take in the life of Salamanca.

Hostels, Laundry and Dinner on Camino 

Eventually, we left the Plaza Mayor behind and walked only a few steps to our hotel, delighted to discover that our room had a small balcony overlooking the main street.

After checking in, taking showers, and getting a few chores done (including a much-needed trip to the Laundromat), we felt refreshed and ready to enjoy Salamanca in the evening.

Later, we met Coreen and Rich for dinner, and were joined partway through by Jaqueline, a German pilgrim we had crossed paths with a few times before. Together we shared a delicious paella verdura, the kind of simple, communal meal that always seems to taste better after days on the trail. The conversation flowed easily as we caught up with Rich and Sue’s news and exchanged stories from the road.

The one difficult note in an otherwise warm reunion came when Sean explained the story behind his swollen black eye and bruised cheek. Our companions listened with disbelief that such a thing could have happened between pilgrims on the trail. As the evening went on, however, we found it fascinating to hear how other tales and rumors had been travelling up and down the Camino - accounts of the French couple reading all night and waking entire dormitories before dawn, of a Spanish couple taking taxis on long stages, and of the man with the cart persuading pilgrims to push it in exchange for a sip of wine. In its way, this exchange reminded us how quickly stories circulate among walkers, carrying with them both amusement and caution, binding together people who may never actually meet.

Evening in Salamanca

Later that evening, as we wandered through Salamanca photographing the city’s golden sandstone under the night lights, we were approached by two members of the Civil Guardia who had noticed Sean’s bruised cheek and blackened eye. Their questions seemed more curious than accusatory, and through Google Translate, Sean explained what had happened. Their reply, however, was immediate and matter-of-fact: “No, you are wrong. Pilgrims don’t hurt people. Nothing bad happens on the Way of St. James.” It was clear their words reflected a deeply held belief in the Camino as a place of peace and protection, one where the idea of violence simply did not belong.

Given the response to Sean’s black eye from both fellow pilgrims and the Civil Guardia, it soon became clear that sharing the truth of what had happened was only going to create problems. People simply didn’t want to believe that such things could occur on the Camino. For many, the Way of St. James is wrapped in a sense of sanctuary and idealism, and to speak of violence or conflict feels almost like breaking a spell. 

Yet our experience suggested that the Camino, like life itself, holds both light and shadow. Myths can be powerful - providing inspiration, comfort, and meaning.  But they can also make it difficult to acknowledge uncomfortable realities.  As such, we realized that, for the time being, we would need to find another way to explain Sean’s injury - something more palatable - because the truth was not what most were willing to hear.

Reflecting on the Via de la Plata

Arriving in Salamanca felt like an achievement in itself. We were grateful to have walked this far, especially knowing how many pilgrims we had set out with were no longer on the trail - some had gone home, others now relied primarily on buses or taxis, moving at a pace that had carried them beyond our reach. For us, the only way forward was step by step, weary but determined, meeting each challenge as it came.

Tomorrow we have chosen to rest, taking a rare day off here in Salamanca. Many others will press on, and so once again we part from familiar faces - some we may encounter again, others we may not meet again. Such is the rhythm of the Way of St. James: constant crossings and partings, an ever-shifting tapestry of companions and stories.

See you on the Way!