Day 23 - Mazarife to Astorga - 31km

After some calculating the previous evening I had worked out that I only had 299km to go, so I was all enthusiastic in the morning and up and off by 6:30. I hadn't decided how far I was going to walk that day but there were albergues at reasonable intervals so I intended to keep going and see how far I managed to get. The first part of the route was 6km along a road, straight and rather boring but good going. After leaving the road I passed through an area where there had been some tree felling so there was a good place to sit and have my usual breakfast of water and chocolate biscuits. Shortly after I came to a village where I stopped for a coffee in what appeared to be the only bar there. It was large, completely empty and poorly stocked with food, which surprised me as they must have a monopoly on all the pilgrim traffic passing through. Their ladie's was so malodorous that I nearly gave it a miss, but needs must.

A few kilometres further on I came to Hospital de Órbigo, crossing over a magnificent bridge, one of the oldest in Spain. It was over 200m long, with 20 arches, and is called Puente del Paso Honroso. I had thought of stopping in Hospital as it looked interesting but I'd only done 15km so far and when I got into town I also found there was a fiesta being set up which meant accommodation would be scant and the night noisy so I carried on. I stopped on my way out of town to sit on a bench and have a quick snack. Although the day was sunny it was pretty chilly in the shade and there was a cold wind blowing so I didn't stop for long. While I was sitting there I watched quite a few pilgrims trying to decide which of the two routes to take as once again there was a choice of following the road or going across country, with yellow arrows pointing in both directions.

I opted again for the country route and the path started heading uphill fairly soon. In the last village before Astorga, 10km away, I had to decide whether to stay there or carry on. The place looked somewhat seedy and I wasn't tired yet so I reluctantly bought a bocadillo for lunch since they didn't have anything else and kept going. The next stretch was hilly and rather solitary and the track was very stony and tiring to walk on. I stopped and ate half my bocadillo at a strange spot where there was a full-size dummy dressed as a pilgrim by a tree with a bench and table and little monuments around. I couldn't make out whether it was a memorial to a pilgrim who had died during their Camino or what, but I stopped there anyway to get my breath back after the climb and eat. A few pilgrims passed while I was there but no familiar faces, I was either behind or getting ahead of my network as I was seeing fewer and fewer of them every day.

The surroundings were a mixture of woods, cultivated fields and wild areas and the stony path undulated up and down quite a bit, eventually climbing to a high point by a cross where you had excellent views from the rest area there. I was joined by two German lads I had been seeing on and off for the last couple of weeks. The taller one had helped me earlier on in the afternoon when I'd been unsure of the way at one point. I had noticed that he sometimes slept out as he said he was a bit short of cash. The way downhill was very steep and I took it slowly until the path levelled off through the suburbs and meandered past some industrial areas before finally arriving in Astorga. I got there at about 3:30, It had been a long day, nine hours including short breaks, but I was really pleased at the distance I'd covered and the fact that I didn't feel shattered at the end of it.

I thought I was in luck at the albergue as I was given a bottom bunk in a six-bed dorm with only one other occupant, a very elderly gentleman lying flat on his back with arms crossed over his chest, looking much like an effigy. After a brief rest I went for a quick look round as there were some Roman ruins I wanted to see and to do some shopping. I bumped into Lisa while I was out and we went for a coffee and chat. It was quite cold and drizzling and I soon returned to the albergue and the usual chores. I managed to check my e-mails but there was no news from home so I was still concerned about my father. I had the rest of my bocadillo with some wine for dinner, sitting out on a sheltered terrace near the familiar quiet French couple I kept seeing. My dorm had filled up and two of the men, both cyclists, were very bad snorers. As the first started up his friend who was still awake kept snapping his fingers at him. This worked a few times but then the second one fell asleep and they both roared away. In the early morning it was so bad I got up before dawn and went and sat on the terrace again and watched the day break over the surrounding countryside.