Allen, Nathan, and the Road to Santiago

When we left off, our heros were sitting in an internet cafe in Astorga as a storm brewed outside, little did we know that the devil was about to rear its ugly head yet again.

As we left Astorga a chill settled into the air, the rain began to fall, and the wind began to whip. As we had been riding only a short time, we were determined to press on, so we settled onto our trusty steeds, tilted our heads against the wind, and rode slowly out of Astorga. So began our climb up the 3rd major climb up to Cruz de Ferro. In comparison to the Pyrenees the climb to Cruz de Ferro would have been a joy, but as we rode, we noticed that the water was steadily building up in our shoes, and the chill in the air was slowly creeping into our bones. We came to an intersection just outside of El Ganso where a farmer who was out fixing his fence, stopped his work long enough to tell us of the dangers that lurked ahead. The farmer told us that the weather was about to get very bad, and that we were crazy to go on any further...We had no choice but to continue on as we had done barely 15 miles. When we reached El Ganso, the wind was blowing like nothing we had experienced thus far, and the rain had finally broken us, so we stopped at a little one room bar on the side of the road.

The Bar in El Ganso was run by two little old Spanish women, one of whom had some desire to be Dutch instead as she was wearing wooden clogs. The bar had only one other patron, an old man, who looked as though the journey had taken its toll only on his feet which were heavily bandaged. The old man sat with a quiet dignity and feasted, thereby renewing his body's will to continue. Inspired by his hunger, and his determination, we too ate our fill of fine spanish soup, chorizo, and eggs, not to mention plenty of cafe con leche. When we finished, we walked outside and the rain had subsided, so we continued on to Rabanal del Camino, the final staging point before the climb to Cruz de Ferro.

It was only that night that we learned that the whipping wind and bone chilling rain was the remnants of Hurrican Gordon, which was smashing into Northwestern Spain as we rode...