Day Three on the Sanabres - Oseira Monastery to Castro Dozon

Day Three – Oseira Monastery to Castro Dozon

The crowd in the big sleeping hall at the monastery awoke early, all seemingly being experienced dedicated perigrinos who embark upon their journey at first light (6 am); not so much for us, since we only had 14 km to go and (as mentioned yesterday) I was suffering from the impact of that home-made red chorizo sausage I’d foolishly had for supper last night. 

Fields of yellow broom

Anyway the day was comfortably warm, with blue skies and scudding clouds that whispered “rain later” as we headed out. The stone path, well-marked with a concha pillar and yellow arrow, started up the big hill overlooking the monastery as we left the grounds, steep and perhaps part of an old Roman road, for the square blocks seemed too orderly for a casual pathway. It soon became tricky going, with moss and loose rocks making for a deliberate climb, with care needed as to where one stepped or placed their trekking pole.

A view of the Oseira Monastery

About a half-mile along, I spotted what appeared to be a fossil embedded in one of the loose rocks littering the path and upon closer examination, my old geologist’s instincts seemed confirmed. A little later we came to a clearing and there below us was a stunning vista of the monastery we’d just left.  The stone walls and trees nearby were covered in bright green and thick moss, and behind in the fields were acres and acres of yellow broom bushes. It was a glorious sight!

"Don't come in my yard!"

The clouds above soon misted us with a gentle rain, prompting us to stop and put on our rain gear tops but after a few minutes when the rain stopped, it became too hot and back the gear went into our packs or wrapped around our waist. The forests were soon left behind and we walked through fields – some with cows or horses grazing – and into and out of small settlements.  Most of this rural scene seemed quiet but there was one unnamed village where the cattle were inside their barn for milking and we passed through a lane where on either side you could see in the cool darkness the cows lined up, as the milking machines attached to their udders rhythmically sucked out milk from the heavy bags. We stopped at the bottom of this lane for a short rest and energy-food break, a move which much upset the resident guard dog behind the entrance gate. All of 12’ high, he was full of indignant guard-dog noise and barked until we finally went our way. Crossing the rushing clear stream at the bottom of this little valley meant that we soon were trudging uphill again, through groves of eucalyptus trees and past meadows. 

The only town marked on our Kelly Guidebook maps was called A Gouxa, where a café (noted as “not open mornings”) didn’t appear to be open in the early afternoon either as we passed through. We later heard at the albergue in Castro Dozon that in fact it was open, just that the front door was closed and one had to knock firmly to be allowed entrance. Not knowing this secret, we stopped for lunch at the side of the road a few kilometers out of A Gouxa. Joan found a nice shelter while Elaine & I sat on a bench on side opposite, I munching away on my carried bocadilla, nuts and chocolate while she pulled out a hard-boiled egg and some other gluten-free foods. It’s tough traveling in Spain if you’re a vegetarian or gluten-free eater!

The municipal alburgue at Castro Dozon

Finally outside of A Gouxa we linked up with the main road from Ourense to Santiago – M425 – and walked along the edge for about 3 km until the side road turned down towards our destination.  At the bottom was a café and we decided it was “café con leche time!” and rested for a while. Our two backpacks had been transported ahead by Joe Angel and his company, MochillaTrans, to the Café Fraga, a combined café/bar & supermercado (grocery store), so we picked them up and then walked about 400 meters up a hill on the M525 to our home for the night, the municipal albergue of Castro Dozon. It turned out to be full service albergue, with a kitchen, showers (single-sex communal), bathrooms and a big sunny sleeping area for about 24 pilgrims. Joan & I found free lower bunks near the entrance, unpacked and did our washing, which was quickly hung on the clothesline out back, overlooking the town swimming pool and playgrounds. 

This was actually quite a picturesque place and very adequate for the needs of we perigrinos. Joan & I cooked up a “pilgrim supper’ of pasta, ouzo, sun-dried tomatoes and Iberian ham, which sounds yucky but was actually very tasty. The internet connection is fair here and we picked up our Gmails and checked Facebook. This trip has pretty much been a “News Free Zone” so far and I must say, it’s peaceful outside of Trumpland; it’s amazing how much noise and static is bombarding us back home. Here, nobody much cares or if they do, it doesn’t overwhelm their lives so much. Life is so much simpler as a pilgrim!