No, it’s not the Camino [4]
Mark Eveleigh’s 1200km walk across Spain: week 4
A few days ago Mark met someone who’d taken a drone video of him walking. These screenshots are from that video.
If you missed any previous updates on Mark’s walk, please click on the following for: week 1, week 2 and week 3.
What happened next? Please see: Week 5; the end
Dear friends
What were you doing this time last month? I don’t mean to pry – although you’re welcome to tell me – but I’m asking because when I think back to what I was doing four weeks ago today (coffee with my cousin Pam, followed by a day on my computer), it feels a lifetime ago. And when I consider that Mark has been walking ever since then – Every. Single. Day. (Bar one.) – I am in absolute awe of him. Of his commitment; his strength (both mental and physical); and his single-minded pursuit to “get the story” and achieve a dream. Also, tbh, it makes me feel a little bit lazy.
Mark is now 923km into his 1200km walk from Gibraltar to the northernmost tip of Spain. His feet are callused; the soles of his boots are beginning to wear thin; his beard is more rugged; his pants a little looser; and his appreciation for water has increased exponentially since he set off on this walk.
You see, it’s been tough going this past week and making sure he has enough water has been particularly important. After taking last Thursday as his first rest day (and, after three weeks on the road, a much-needed day in which to catch up on email admin, find thermal long-johns for the colder nights, and search for that all-important 3-in-1 coffee), he’s been averaging around 40km a day, despite the relentless heatwave that’s had northern Spain gripped in sweltering 39-degree weather. When he messaged me from the side of a road a few days ago, his phone was showing 42 degrees in the shade.
As he’s trekked north from Salamanca into the province of León, Mark has transitioned from striding across wild flatlands into a rolling landscape that at times is densely forested with conifers and holm oaks; the old cork forests are now far behind him. He’s seen plenty of rabbits, a few deer and, quite often, the tracks of big wild boar. He’s walked over spectacular Roman bridges and past many shrines, and through little villages where centuries-old buildings have been constructed from rammed earth walls. In the kilometres between these clusters of houses (which always have a church watching over them), there have been long stretches of wheat fields that disappear into an horizon where, occasionally, a black fighting bull looms against the skyline.
On the very first day of his trek, once he’d cleared the concrete jungle of Gibraltar and was venturing into a beautifully rural area, Mark came to a gate that warned of “savage livestock”. He doesn’t usually pay much attention to such signs but he knew that, as he was in Andalucia, it referred to fighting bulls. Deviating slightly from his carefully planned route would, Mark knew, be wise. But the imposing black bulls he’s seen recently require no such detour.
The “Osborne bulls” are imposing 14-metre-high signboards that stand proudly as icons in a country loved for its fiestas and football. They first appeared along motorways back in 1956 when the Osborne Group commissioned Andalucian artist Manolo Prieto (1912 – 1991) to create an advert for their Veterano brandy. At first the bulls were only four metres high but, as a change in laws in 1962 and 1974 required all billboards to be placed 20 and then 50 metres away from roadsides, the bulls increased to seven and then 14 metres. By 1988, when another ruling prohibited all advertising from being visible from the motorways, the bulls had become such an integral part of Spain’s cultural identity that the public outcry led to the country’s supreme court making an exemption for the Osborne bulls. There are now 92 black bulls that stand watch across Spain’s landscape. So far on his walk across the country, Mark has seen four of them.
[Prieto, by the way, was a prolific artist who was very influential in Spain’s design circles post World War 2. Take a look at this short piece for an overview of his career and this website for images of his work.]
As I write, Mark has just walked into the village of Astorga, where he’s had to stop to check the final PDFs for his upcoming book (hence the 10km distance). He is further north than the northern border of Portugal and, with the end of his walk almost in sight, I asked him, how does he feel about this walk almost being over?
Mark: It’s kind of hard to imagine that it is really nearly over. I go in swings and cycles between feeling like I’m really in the zone of walking, and that it’s something I could just keep doing day after day – and there are other times when it feels very, very hard and I’m counting the miles and the days to the end. The actual walking is only part of it – the camping and the stress of trying to find a place to camp every night is pretty endless too. At the moment I feel like I would rather cover more distance each day, than take it easy with shorter distances and have more nights where I have to find safe, comfortable and dry places to camp.
How does your body feel?
Mark: I’m astounded to realise that I actually feel 90% fine. From my ankles downwards there is pretty much constant pain; I have a new crop of blisters coming through. I’m amazed that my legs and back have been fine almost all of the time. I am, however, missing Balinese massages.
How do you amuse yourself while you walk?
Mark: Sometimes I listen to my Vagabond playlist, but mostly I walk in silence. I think and look at the view. Everyone I met on the Via de la Plata said that they’d spent quite a lot of time in their heads – I have too, and sometimes I feel like I need an escape. That’s when the Vagabond playlist helps a lot. I’ve also been listening to an awesome book by Victoria Hislop called The Return, which is interesting because it’s a novel set during the Spanish Civil War. There’s a lot of description about the bravery of the various Republican refugees, who walked all over Spain from one bombed-out city to the next – and that’s been very inspiring for me. I sometimes give myself an hour to listen to something, then I turn it off and concentrate on my own thoughts.
What’s something that you’ve enjoyed this past week?
Mark: I stopped late one afternoon in a town called El Cubo de Tierre de Vino, and I was looking for somewhere to have a meal. There was only one restaurant, which was due to open at 8pm, and there was a little bar where I managed to get a few Radlers. It was there that I met a Dutch hiker who was walking the Via de la Plata, and he told me about an alberge that was serving dinner at 7pm. I joined the pilgrims for dinner and had a wonderful evening at a long trestle table that was set up outside in a kind of farmyard, and the owner, Filiberto, hosted us with amazing wine from the area, and we had salad and wonderful chicken stew cooked in cognac. The meal was awesome, and because I’ve been camping on my own and it’s been a very solitary experience for me, I loved having a sociable evening with a few glasses of wine and chatting with two Portuguese cyclists, two Dutch walkers and a French cyclist. That night was one of the highlights of my entire trip so far.
How is your backpack holding up?
Mark: I’m carrying a Jack Wolfskin 42-litre pack, and it’s amazing. The size is sbsolutely perfect, and it’s super comfortable. The pockets are spot-on. It came with a rain cover that seemed unnecessarily heavy so I removed that before I started to walk and, as I wrap everything inside in plastic, I felt it wasn’t necessary. The compartments inside are great, and I like the mesh pockets on the back and sides. In the back pocket I can fit my hammock, its strings, and my roof. One thing I do for a peaceful night is put insect repellent on my hammock strings – but foolishly I’d been using one that contained DEET and so the strings have actually corroded some of the mesh of the pocket. I now use a different insect repellent…
Mark’s walk has me inspired to set off on my own long trek – but when I’ve suggested we do one together, he’s responded with expletives I’ve rarely heard him use before. He softens the blow with laughter and then adds, “maybe I’ll change my mind”. I have some plans up my sleeve, and I’m pretty sure he will. He’s not one to turn down an adventure…
With love,
Narina
PS I have been overwhelmed by the number of people who’ve signed up in the past few days to receive NE Where in their inbox – thank you so much for choosing to be here. If this is the first update you’ve received from me then you might have missed my piece about the the 79-year-old woman who lives in one of the most inhospitable places on the planet. Hers is an exceptional story and if you’d like to read it, please click here.