The Kumar at the UoG

Satish Kumar came to the University of Gloucestershire this afternoon for what he called a fireside chat: no open log fire there, unlike at Dartington Hall - though plenty of fire in the belly.

"My pet theme is about soil, soul and society - a new Trinity for the age of ecology." It avoids, he said, the dualism of the Christian Trinity; the anthropocentricity of the American life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and the all too personal "mind, body and spirit".

We are not separate from nature: we are nature, that is "to be born". What we do to nature, we do to ourselves: there can be no healthy society on a sick planet. From one, bitter-tasting pip, the apple tree grows, yielding year after year an abundant harvest, not discriminating between those who enjoy its fruit, whether they be saints, sinners - or grubs.

A body without a soul is only good to be buried. We need to put the soul back into society, for its well-being. You can be rich and not be well - and many of us are exactly that. Without beauty, the soul will starve.

"I'm going to Pakistan," Satish told a fellow-Indian. "Take some food with you," came back the advice. "No, I am foremost, not an Indian, but a member of the earth community. Your parcels of food are parcels of mistrust."

Climate Stewards

Brendan Bowles, Director of A Rocha's Climate Stewards, paid a visit to Cheltenham last evening, to speak at a meeting of Christian Ecology Link. "Christian responses to climate change" was his theme - what is the particular vision Christians have to offer? What example are we able to set?

Brendan began with the two greatest commandments: love God and love your neighbour as yourself. Loving God means working in his direction: he said of his creation, that it was good. And creation is sustained by Jesus. Can it be a good idea, therefore, to trash it?

Our neighbours all round the world are in need of good soil and good rain to feed themselves. Just as being the League Champions doesn't cause you to win a football match, so climate change doesn't cause floods or drought; but if climate change is due to our human behaviour, then that behaviour needs to be looked at - in just the same way as Christians have championed fair trade, and (in the past) the abolition of slavery.

Brendan used to think that the way was for us to reduce our own emissions, before we started to get other people on board. But whilst moral purity is impressive, it makes it difficult for some ever to start on the journey: you hear the reaction, "Anything I can do is never going to be enough. In order to be really green, I need to be dead."

A Rocha has been planting trees in the arid North of Ghana, to act as a barrier against the encroaching desert; to encourage biodiversity, and to enhance the rainfall pattern in that part of the country. £40,000 a year or thereabouts has been pledged by people in other countries towards this scheme, as a way of compensating for their carbon use being so much greater that that of Ghanaians and others under similar climate stress. Planting a tree has its parallel in Jesus's parables of the sower and his seed; of the mustard seed that grew into a large tree; of the yeast that raised the whole loaf, and the candle that shines in the dark. "You are the salt of the world." (To learn more about Climate Stewards and offsetting, see here.)

What goes on in our churches affects the whole of society: we need a huge response to the challenge that climate change brings. It is never going to be sufficient to have just a few really committed people. The power is in the multiplication. Like Jesus, we each have to talk to the bad guys, to get them to make a symbolic change. Like baptism.

Our vision is of a better way of living on low carbon. What we need is, not to accuse people, but to make the good, normal.

"With an eye on the Via de la Plata"

Happy St James' Day! It also happens to be the day when I've put the finishing touches to my new book about our month on The Way of St James in April - from Seville to Salamanca.

As reported here at the time, Caroline and I went by train from Cheltenham to Seville, arriving on Maundy Thursday, and walked the first half of the Camino de Santiago which starts there, the Via de la Plata - I with my camera. The resulting photobook with the above title can now be seen here: click and you'll see that its 90 pages (with my 325 photographs and 11,000 words of commentary) are all available to view free online - if your eyes are good enough!

The book is also available for sale - print on demand; but as it's in the style of a coffee table book, it is, I fear, rather expensive: for further details see here.

All feedback extremely welcome!

Worcester to Tenbury by bicycle

There are three ways to tackle this problem, all with drawbacks for the cyclist (like me) who is aware of Old Father Time's approach. Today, I made the journey to Worcester by train, both cheap and bike-friendly. Rather than wait for 90 minutes for the next bus to Tenbury, I set out under a grey sky to find the Martley road, via good views of the Cathedral, the River Severn and the Worcester County Cricket Ground. The decision has to be taken whether to follow the River Teme, after its crossing at Ham Bridge, or to plough on the B4204, involving a 200m ascent. Well, that's where it ought to be taken, but I missed the turning after the bridge and by the time I was half way up to Clifton (misleadingly called "on Teme"), it was rather late to go back.

The advantage of sweating up the hill is that you have a nice long downhill into Tenbury, passing Hill Top and Kyrewood, two places mentioned in my ancestor's diaries: I'm in the process of editing these, hence the expedition.

On the way back, I had thought of taking the relatively flat (until Abberley) A443, but having biked along to Burford Church from Tenbury, quite a wide stretch of that road, I realised that I might be lucky to survive the unequal battle with the lorry traffic. So instead I took the minor road along the South bank of the Teme, via Lower Rochford, Eastham, Orleton and Stanford - coming out again to join the B4204 at Ham Bridge. Drawbacks? Well it's marked with 19th Century milestones, scenic and there isn't a lot of traffic; but it's very steep and narrow - and it was pouring with rain.

"Bad habits die hard"

Yesterday marked the start of this year's Cheltenham Science Festival, which seems to attract bigger audiences year by year: certainly, if the crowd at the event with this title last evening is anything to go by. Jonathon Porritt was talking to psychologist Stuart Derbyshire, of Birmingham University's School of Psychology, and the ESRC's Dale Southerton about why we find it difficult to change our behaviour.

Dale preferred to consider habits, not as addictions we needed to kick, but as essential matters of routine. They are shaped by our daily context. So, the development of deep freezes – which has happened at a rate "faster than that of the internet" – gets us into a dependency on out of town supermarkets: we have become locked into the freezer habit. And power showers lock us into more water use, as few of us use them solely as an alternative to the bath. Our need is to design habits that are more sustainable: what about Tesco's turning into a food delivery service only, and converting their stores into laundrettes? Tesco vans could then return full of our dirty washing when they have delivered the groceries, and millions of home washing machines would never need replacing.

Stuart, however, generally took quite a contrary tack – possibly for the sake of argument, but I rather doubt it. "I refuse to wash my yoghurt pots," he boasted. Che sarà, sarà. But that drip in the background didn't turn into a cataclysm, at least while this hour lasted.

A moral climate

Michael Northcott came to Cheltenham last evening, to address a Cheltenham Inter Faith meeting. His talk was based upon his 2007 book, "A moral climate: the ethics of global warming."

Professor Northcott comes across less as an academic (he is Professor of Ethics at Edinburgh University) than as a campaigner. Not that I have anything against a passionate speaker, but I emerged from the normally tranquil setting of the Friends' Meeting House feeling rather shell-shocked.

Or should that be "Shell shocked"? The first part of the Northcote fusillade was aimed at the oil companies. "Shell paid my school fees... but oil and blood have often intermingled," he told us. Tar sand extraction was "an unbelievably filthy process." And he had brought along the images to prove it.

Professor Northcott's thesis is that inequity is the central feature of the climate crisis; that those who suffer are least responsible, whilst those who are the cause are least affected. The climate, he says, is a global commons, and commons are not traditionally managed by either markets or states; yet the atmosphere is now being "enclosed" by the carbon emissions trading procedure. Climate change cannot be resolved by emissions trading: we have to "keep it in the ground".

The faiths can contribute two things towards meeting this challenge. First, the dimension of healing and restoration (in Christian terms "resurrection"); and secondly their sense of posterity: again, as a Christian, he pointed to the Communion of Saints: we worship God in churches which are traditionally built with graves - containing the bodies of the Saints - all around them. "I am a hopeful person," he concluded (albeit with a rare note of hesitation in his voice).

Birds of passage

Nicki Gwynn-Jones ARPS has a new exhibition of her photographs in Cheltenham: it opened this evening, "A bird's eye view". Her stunning ornithological treatments are shot in Florida, whither she commutes along with her husband. ("How long, O Lord?" It's all very well dedicating your show to those rescuing sea birds on the Gulf of Mexico's shores, but don't airoplanes run on... oil?)

Nicki is sharing the Gardens Gallery this week with Helen Dewbery LRPS, whose photography is less spectacular, but in a way more coherent. Both shows are worth a visit, I'd say. Especially on an evening like tonight, when the Montpellier Gardens are to be seen at their most vibrant. What a joy it is to live in Cheltenham!

Freedom in The Suffolks

For once Cheltenham has had a dry late May Bank Holiday Monday this year. And The Suffolks were thronged with happy-looking people, strolling along, people-watching, enjoying the music - and browsing the stalls: one which caught my eye was selling fruit swirls, a sort of sorbet in an edible cup: mine was strawberry and yogourt flavoured - rather delicious.

"A taste of Freedom" was their slogan, and the name of a new social and environmental venture, intercepting fresh yet unwanted fruit before it rots - 20 million tonnes of it are said to be wasted annually in the UK. Tristram Stuart, on the right of my photograph, is behind it: his book, Waste: Uncovering the Global Food Scandal, was published by Penguin last year.

The music festival season is upon us

We were at Highnam yesterday on a sunny evening for the opening of this year's Carducci Festival, a glorious event! The young and engaging Carducci String Quartet have been putting on an intensive weekend of music-making there each year since 2007, and people respond. No wonder! The setting is perfect - a much-loved Victorian Gothic church amidst parkland; the quartet's programmes are imaginative, and the playing both rich and delicate - absolutely no gothic horrors.

An interesting contrast was the recital we attended on Wednesday night, as part of the Newbury Spring Festival. St Mary's Church, Kingsclere predates Gambier Parry's Highnam by 700 years, and for a performance the Norman setting feels more secretive than exuberant. The virtuosic intensity of the Trio con Brio Copenhagen's playing contributed to this atmosphere, especially in the tragic music of Smetana's G minor Piano Trio.

Ascension-tide in Cheltenham

It was a fine day for Cheltenham's first carnival for many years. The children loved it, especially the extremely well-behaved sheep, which led the procession. More often associated with racehorses, Edward Gillespie was properly dressed up as freeman of the borough, and made a splendid Mine Host for the afternoon. He was pursued through the streets by swirling kilts (pipes and drums), and a ukelele band, amongst others.

Walking along the wall

Having commented on the capital investment - mainly European Union money - on the Via de la Plata, it was good this morning to note the progress with the walling along the Cotswold Way. A stretch of new stone wall 1,300 metres long is well on its way to completion, running along the top of Leckhampton Hill and marking the boundary of Charlton Kings Common. Natural England is bearing 80% of the cost of this large project, the total bill being (as I recall) more than £600,000.

When the work is finished, Dexter cattle will be able to graze the hillside without quite so much of the rather unsightly wire fencing needed in the past. Nevertheless, to complete the Common encirclement, a further 3kms. of walling is needed.

Meanwhile, the landscape at the top of our Hill is dotted with machinery and huge piles of both old and new stone. It makes you wonder at the creation of the original boundary walls, in an era of no dumper trucks.

Post-election climate change

The environment as usual seems to have come well down the list of hottest election issues. And since climate change has gone completely out of fashion as a discussion topic since Copenhagen, UEA, IPCC etc., it seems opportune to have been catching up a bit these last few days.

On Thursday night, the sensible Director of A Rocha's Climate Stewards program, Brendan Bowles came down from Cheshire to speak in Cirencester, giving us a (Christian) vision of a better world with less carbon; and today, at Gloucester Guildhall, Meghna Das, Sustainable Communities Officer at Coventry, led a COIN climate change speaker training course: most useful!

Pilgrim places

From Salamanca, we caught a train to Lisbon on Saturday last; and after two happy days there, we are now back home again - via another five trains (Lisbon - Hendaye - Toulouse - Paris - London - Cheltenham).

R.L. Stevenson wrote that "to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive," and, although it's nice to come home, I'm inclined to think he was right, at least so far as pilgrimages are concerned. We loved our four weeks' walking on the Via de la Plata, but are not sad only to have managed half of it. Santiago de Compostela is the focus for most of the other walkers we met, but it doesn't seem to us particularly necessary to get there. Indeed, many V. de la P. pilgrims are said to be disappointed when they arrive, such is the touristy hustle and bustle of Santiago - a great contrast to the weeks spent amidst such a stunning variety of things natural, studded with mainly small places to stay en route.

Perhaps it's different for pilgrims to Fatima and Lourdes, most of whom do NOT walk there: we passed through them both on our way back from Lisbon!

Camino: interim conclusions

On Friday afternoon, we sat down here and celebrated the conclusion of our planned walk from Seville. The Plaza Mayor in Salamanca is said to be the world's grandest drawing-room: on a sunny afternoon, with a glass of white wine to hand, you couldn't disagree! Our only problem was that we were seated rather too near a stag party from Essex, all its members wearing sombreros and drinking large beers, their glasses not being allowed to stand empty for more than a moment.

What a great feeling it is to walk towards the cathedral towers of Salamanca, visible for a good 10kms! Modern blocks of flats only screen the old city when you reach the rather dismal outskirts, but even there we found something to wonder at: a new motorway has been built, at present unused, and in the tunnel which takes the Camino under it was a man recording his own extraordinary voice in a Basque lament!

One of you readers has been wondering about the availability of accommodation along this Camino. Did we use a guide that has this information? Did we generally reserve ahead or find places on arrival?

We were indebted primarily to the Confraternity of St. James' guide (and its web-based update), which has addresses and telephone numbers. There are various other web resources too, which we explored before we left. We found a number of places with a new casa rural, and one, in Torremejia, with a new albergue. We did book some ahead: it is not necessary, and it gives greater flexibility if you leave deciding where to stay till you get to whatever you feel is the right destination for the day. Having said this, some of the villages are many, many kms. apart, so you do at times feel glad of the security of a booking.

Huge amounts have been invested in tourism all along the route, which can "take" a much larger number of pilgrims than currently walk or cycle it: we just felt so lucky that more people - particularly the dreaded cyclists - don't!

Half way on the Camino

It´s 1,000 kms. from Seville to Santiago, and we are now 493 kms. along the line.  But tomorrow we bring this year´s walking to an end, on arrival at Salamanca.  It´s sad to be parting from the company of other pilgrims, and from our simple routine of the past four weeks: up before dawn, coffee and toast for breakfast, the same relatively few possessions stuffed away in the rucksack, along with plenty of bottles of water, and then OFF into the empty - and usually beautiful - countryside.

This morning´s was a particularly dramatic departure, from Fuenterroble de Salvatierra, with the sun coming up behind the fortress church of Santa Maria la Blanca.  That was the stay where we have had the strongest feeling for being on a pilgrimage: the parish priest, Don Blas Rodriguez, has done an enormous amount not only for the people of his small parish, but also for the visibility of this Camino.  We were all invited to his children´s mass at 8 last evening: he used the pilgrimage, and its international significance, as a teaching tool for his first communion class.  And as many of the pilgrims who came along may never have experienced a mass before, the celebration had a double effect.

The church was in ruins when Don Blas arrived in the village: now is it not only gloriously restored, but filled with modern, wooden sculptures of enormous dynamism, including Santiago of course, and the centrepiece, the risen Christ.  Blas´ home is the pilgrim Refugio, its dormitories filled with icons.  What one man can achieve in a short time!  Nor is he - from what we could see - subject to Mr. Darcy´s strictures:  The power of doing anything with quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance.

Camino: ¿por qué?

Since I was last able to sit at a computer, we have met a couple more "nationalities" - a Swede, and a man from Cape Town.  The question, "Why are you doing it?" is never far from my mind, even if not articulated.  The South African, a recently retired mining engineer, went to the trouble of making a Schengen Visa application in order to be able to fly into Madrid: he had picked up an Australian´s account of walking the Via de la Plata in his local library, and was taken with the challenge. No religious convictions there!

Most of those we have come across are of an age with us, perhaps a bit younger on average: are we all out to show there is a spark of life in us yet? That we are happy to substitute for the 9 to 5 life, a spell on the hallowed path from dawn to (Spanish) lunchtime, after which we collapse happily into siesta mode, before catching up with our emails in the local casa de cultura when it opens at 5?

Here we are now at the Northern extremity of Extremadura, which it has taken us more than a fortnight to cross. The villages are no longer dominated by white-painted houses: stone and adobe dwellings, with wooden first floor balconies, have replaced them.

From Carcaboso, we had our most lovely walk yet to the Arco de Cáparra - a Roman relic in the middle of nowhere. We waited (and waited) there, under the ancient arch, for a (hair-raising - when it came) lift from the owner of an off-Camino hostal. (Internot) Then, next morning, we followed blue (instead of our usual yellow) arrows to rejoin the Camino, to reach eventually the pretty little town of Aldeavueva del Camino. (Interneither - though lots of horrifying TV pictures of bull getting the better of bullfighter.) The snow-capped mountains lay ahead.

This morning, we had a shorter walk up here to Baños de Montemayor, which is at 700 metres - more climbing ahead of us! After some less than perfect nights´ sleep, we are comfortably ensconced here at Hotel Balneario, the heyday of which must have been about 1910. And we have been indulging ourselves most happily in the Roman baths next door. Very good for blisters!

Camino colleagues

Three weeks in, and we have yet to come across another person from England, apart from out nice host and hostess at Alconétar Reservoir, Stephen and Sharon, all the way from Woking. American, Argentinian, Australian, Austrian, Belgian, Danish, French, Irish, Italian fellow pilgrims have we met, as well as those from all parts of Germany, Holland and Spain, but where are the English?

I compiled this list today during our rather dreary road walk, from beautiful, walled Galisteo (with its amazing views all round) to the rather less romantic (but very hospitable) village of Carcaboso (Hostal Ciudad de Caparra much recommended). The barns are bigger and more elaborately constructed. There were frogs and bullrushes, and Caroline was Croc-ed: in other words, she eschewed her boots because of... blisters! (Dreaded word in these parts!)

Camino walker´s block

A writer, having contemplated a blank piece of paper for many hours, has to be forgiven for throwing in the towel.  Last night I listened to the rain beating down on our window blind, and the bus marked "Salamanca", which pulled in outside our hostal as we were leaving, suddenly became an attractive proposition.

But we were both glad we did not succumb: it´s been a great day on the Camino.  The rain held off till after we arrived here in Galisteo, and for the most part it was sunny (but not too hot), with high and beautiful cloud formations.  And the scenery ranged from distant views of blue remembered hills (100kms. away?) to cool pine woods and meadows carpeted in purple and yellow with wild flowers.

This time last year I bought a St. James´ shell to take with me when walking part of the Voie du Puy in S-W France: it has kept me company again this year, till today when I sat on my rucksack, forgetting it was underneath. Crack! It was not a good day for sitting: the way is marked by occasional large stone blocks with engraved outlines of the famous Roman arch of Cáparra, which we walk through on Saturday. I collapsed onto one for a rest, forgetting the rain which collected in the engraving. Then we both took another wetting, having to remove our boots to cross a swollen river: quite refreshing in fact - we should do it more often.

So, another 28kms. has been clocked up, and we are off to explore the walled town of Galisteo.

Camino: Cañaveral

Today´s walk was a bit of a holiday within a holiday: first, it was only 14kms., and secondly our rucksacks were carried for us - the kind couple who run the place we stayed last night dropped them off, as they were driving here to do their shopping.

So, we raced along in the mild drizzle, first climbing up from the great reservoir, on the edge of which we´d stayed (amazing views!), and then gradually dipping down across more moorland-type scenery to the river below this village, Cañaveral: we crossed it on the 14th Century humpback bridge of San Benito before mounting to the village road. The main street is full of people putting up tents for a feria on Saturday. Friday is St. George´s day: I had thought he was big throughout Spain, but I was told by the barman that the feria is to celebrate 2,400 years of womanhood - with something of a shrug.

Yesterday was hot in spite of the forecast: the greater part of our walk was on the roof of the world, the track running for a long time amidst huge boulders - I have only ever seen any like them on Dartmoor. Feeling adventurous, we tried to follow an alternative route at one stage, the original Calzada Romana: a failure! It was then difficult getting back to the marked path, and our water was running low. The last 5kms. along the main road where it crosses the two big rivers which supply the reservoir were the first time we experienced the grim in pilgrimage.

April 19th on the Camino

The weather has been more settled today: we have put our macs away. Coming North from Cáceres, the countryside has changed. We find hardly any trees or cultivation, and great rolling landscapes. The Yorkshire Moors come to mind.

The first part of our shortish walk (11kms.), after leaving behind the Cáceres bullring, was along a main road, with more than its usual quota of dead dogs to disgust us. We were glad when a track opened out parallel to, and away from, the traffic, which we followed all the way into Casar de Cáceres. The path runs down a beautiful final half km. of gardens, with a great variety of trees, and below them roses in full bloom.

We had not booked anywhere, so followed a sign saying Casa Rural El Encarnacion, which led us slightly out of the town onto a small hill: the former farmhouse - nicely converted (but a very expensive stay) - is just by one of nine small pilgrimage chapels dotted around the town, this one dedicated to Our Lady of the Incarnation. It has rather good, modern stations of the cross.

Now we are back in Casar itself, and very much ready for something to eat. This place epitomises so many we have passed through: extremes of simplicity and poverty on the one hand, and huge infrastructure investment (housing, roads, library, tourism etc.) on the other.

Camino weekend in Cáceres

Not in accordance with our (revised) plan, we are spending two nights in Cáceres - which turns out to be well worth it! A place the size of Cheltenham, Cáceres has at its core a self-contained walled city with an extraordinary richness of architecture, mainly of the 15th-17th Centuries. More churches and palaces seem to appear as you make every turn.

Last evening, we went to mass in the Cathedral (of 13th Century origins): this morning, we toured a 12th Century Arab house; and as I am writing, Caroline is at a Rembrandt etchings exhibition. The only hitch has been our hotel: the partying continued till after four this morning outside the window of our room. As a result, we are both rather short of reading matter till the Post Office opens tomorrow morning, and we can pick up our poste restante. (Luckily, the concierge has just come up with a choice of The Warden and Bleak House, left behind by previous guests.)

We walked mainly in the dry yesterday, the only serious shower coming upon us just as we happened upon a tunnel under the motorway - the second time this has occurred. Today, the rain has been more constant, so we aren´t really complaining about another rest day.

Stormy weather on the Camino

The two of us set off this morning to walk to Alcuescar, 21kms. North of where we stayed last night. We were aiming for the splendidly-named Convent of the Slaves of Mary and of the Poor, which offers individual rooms and supper (with a pilgrims´ blessing beforehand) - no charge, just a request for donations. I was looking forward to this unusual billet.

Somehow, though, before Alcuescar, we must have missed a turning, as we found ourselves well past the village before we realised. Bother. The next place was 10kms. further on, and there was nowhere whatsoever which offered places to stay. So we ended up walking 6kms. further still, to Aldea del Cano, the place we had booked into for tomorrow night: there was no reply to my calls, so we were left hoping there would be room tonight.

Then the rain came, but luckily with the wind blowing us along towards our destination. And like most of our walking so far, the terrain was not difficult, with no great ascents (or descents). There was room for us at the casa rural, we were much relieved to find, and with warm radiators to dry our stuff.

In the earlier part of the day, we had walked through more lovely wild flower meadows and wooded areas - holm oaks, olives, figs (no cherries!). We crossed a couple of Roman bridges, and passed Roman milestones, to remind us where we were.

Still, you know when you have walked 37kms. and Caroline and I are ready for supper!

Aljucén on the Camino

We have now reached the Northernmost village in Badajoz, 237km. from our starting point in Seville. Tomorrow we shall be halfway to Salamanca.

Though the sky was overcast as we left Mérida, the heavens did not open till just before we were due to pass underneath the A-66 motorway, which was a fortuitous shelter. Between the development surrounding the Proserpina (sic) reservoir on the North side of Mérida (we got lost there), and the A-66, we might have been on another planet: our sandy track percolated through the best wildflower meadows so far, and a holm oak-dotted, rock-strewn landscape.

We were tired after our day off in Mérida yesterday, not that we did a lot of walking round the town (the main sights are in quite a concentrated area): breaking the rhythm of everyday walking is what makes it hard when you resume: we have resolved to avoid days off from now on.

Here, we are staying in a room above the Roman Baths (Aqua Libera). It was a joy to sink into them - there are three (of different temperatures) - when we arrived. We are the only guests, so it feels rather exclusive. The house guard dog is asleep in a box behind where I am sitting, in the office of the owners.

Breakfast on the Camino

This is the Roman bridge over the Rio Guadiana at Mérida - 800 metres long. We crossed it at the end of today's easy 16km walk from Torremejia.

Easy, because it was much cooler this morning, and indeed spotting with rain, the first since we left England a fortnight ago nearly. Happily, we finished our day's walking before the downpour this afternoon, which has interfered rather with our visits to the extensive Roman remains here. We spent a little time in the amazing museum, before a text came from Thomas: he had just arrived from Lisbon to meet us (bearing cakes).

By 7.30 this morning, we were drinking our coffee at the bar at the end of our road, where we had met up once again with our new Amsterdam friends, Gerard and Franca. We had been chatting to the village priest together, after last night's 8.30 mass in the church: it's next to the sparkling new Albergue, opened only yesterday.

Gerard, at breakfast: "I was brought up in a family with a strict Protestant tradition: I missed the opportunity you Catholics have to get rid of your guilt. And your capacity to celebrate. Too much heavy organ music in our churches! Calvin must have been the greatest hater the world has known." And so ensued a great conversation about truth!

This is the sort of thing that happens all the time on the Camino, even at breakfast time.

From our Camino: 12th April

We are now back on schedule, having arrived here in Torremejia before lunch.  We used our day in hand to make a slight detour to the city of Almendralejo, so as to give ourselves two shorter days instead of one longer one.  It would have been too long: this has been the most unchanging and relentless stage of our journey so far.

The tracks, mainly sand-surfaced, are straight and level, all footprints pointing in one direction, between huge vineyards and olive groves.  There is no sign of habitation between the places where we stay, and the only other humans we have seen have been burly, raisin-faced Spaniards on their little tractors, either kicking up the dust on our track, or beavering away, harrowing the soil between their rows of vines.  Even from early yesterday (Sunday) they went to work.

On neither day did we have a sight of any other pilgrims, which made it seem more than ever a cultivated but elemental desert.  The contrast when we arrived suddenly in Almendralejo yesterday was remarkable. As Caroline put it, this is a very grown up place: population, more than 23,000, with some fine public buildings, and literally dozens of shops exhibiting a variety of exotic fashion items - Spanish and beyond.  We had seen nothing like it since Seville.

Shaking the dust of Almendralejo off our feet at sunrise this morning, we wondered how a Transition Almendralejo might start to get off the ground: it seems everything arrives there (or leaves it, in the case of wine) in a huge trailer truck: all the lorry and car drivers chuck their rubbish out into the roadside: buildings no longer needed for some industrial purpose are merely abandoned. The motorway rushes past the outskirts.

"Paths are made by those who walk on them" was the title of an early essay by Fr. Thomas Cullinan, and these are the luxurious thoughts of a couple pounding the Via de la Plata and so keeping open an historic route to a long-treasured spiritual centre: its values seem more than ever needed in a world like that of Almendralejo.