I got a late start from the albergue in Castrojeriz, leaving at 08:45. I had been talking to a Spanish guy from Madrid at the picnic table outside. His name was David. It turned out he was the guy I saw camping the day before. I started out walking in the rain, first on an old Roman road, and then up the side of a big hill. Once I reached the top, there was not the epic view promised by the guidebook due to the fog and rain. Eventually it was time to walk down the back side of the hill at an 18% grade. I took it slow and walked backwards part of the way to ease the pressure on my knees and ankles.
Right as I finished the descent, the rain stopped and Mark caught up to me. He had stayed in Hontanas last night and left there in the dark. We walked together and talked for most of the day, catching up on how each of us had broken up the stages since we last walked together. We stopped in Itero de la Vega at Fitero, the only open bar, for lunch. I had horrible heap of macaroni and an orange juice. A couple from Barcelona that stayed in Castrojeriz with me the night before stopped to eat with us.
We then continued on to Boadilla del Camino. My feet were hurting and I needed a rest, so I told Mark to go on ahead. He was planning on getting a hotel in Fromista. I rested up, then walked with three Argentines from Boadilla del Camino to Fromista. They were a 53 year old guy and a couple in their 30's. The older guy spoke English, so I talked to him for the next five kilometers. He was doing his third walk to Santiago, although it was the first time he had walked on the Camino Frances. The group had started in Burgos, and they were on their third day. He told me how his wife divorced him and that is what made him turn back to God. He started going to church everyday, and the trio prayed the rosary while they walked. We followed the Castile Canal into Fromista and then parted ways by the dam complex.
I walked through Fromista, only stopping to go to the ATM to replenish myself with cash. I continued three kilometers past Fromista to Poblacion de Campos and checked in at the La Finca albergue about 17:00. I was the only one there. I took a shower and put some clothes in the washing machine. Eventually fifty minutes later, the Spaniard, David, who I talked to at breakfast that morning arrived. He likes to talk alot. He almost had one credential booklet already filled with stamps and needed to buy a second one. He was really into the Camino de Santiago compared to many of the people I had encountered earlier in the trip.
