Castilblanco to Almaden de la Plata, 18 miles (maybe?)

What a challenging day I had today, almost makes me a little nervous to write about it. 

I had gone out to diner last night and left the group of people early as I didn’t feel well and I wanted to go to bed early. I had told myself and the host at the albergue that if I didn’t feel better I was going to stay another night. He had told me it was alright if I was sick because generally the rules on the Camino are that you can only stay one night. It’s so there is always room for new pilgrims coming through, especially in the small villages that may only have one hostel. 
I slept until about 7:30 AM when my next door bunk mate turned on the light. I felt OK but generally have early in the morning and it gets worse as the day goes on. I had decided I would stay another day and not risk the chance on such a long day.
Many people had already left, some I found out later, about 6:00 AM and used headlights or flashlights to walk on the road as it doesn’t get light until after 7:30 AM. Many people had started early too because it was suppose to be hot again, and the steep last section into Almaden. That should have been a reminder to me of what lay ahead. 
My bed was at the entrance of the room where everyone walked by. It was funny how so many people knew I was sick and gave me a warm good bye or a pat on my shoulder. Almost like some sports event or even a condolence. It’s just a kind of a bond that develops on the Camino. 
I was laying there watching the last few people packing gear. I was wondering what I was going to do all day? I guess it’s like that kid that’s sick looking out the window of his house at all the other kids playing outside and wanting to join them. I had enjoyed Paul’s company and thought that I might not catch up to him down the road. So, contrary to my best reasoning, I decided to head out. 

Paul asked if I wanted him to wait so we could walk together but I told him I needed to get breakfast and stop at the mercado to pick up some food and bottles of water. There is nothing in between the two towns. 
You can usually tell how many people have left or are still in a hostel by the number of boots. The rules is that everyone has to take their boots off and leave them in a designated place. Mine were the only ones left.
The host, a very jolly man, shook my hand and gave me a pat on my back, and gave me the usual, Buen Camino” greeting. No it’s not Bueno, but Buen. 
I really like the small town because people in Spain are friendly, but more so in small towns, especially since pilgrims here have probably been part of their lives for hundreds of years.
Had a great breakfast since I knew that I might loose my appetite and I needed the energy. Stopped at the mini mercado and bought some bread, cheese, and three 1.5 liter bottles of water. It hit the road late at about ten.
The Camino runs on the main highway coming from the north and you have to walk on the asphalt shoulder. It wasn’t too bad as it is about two feet wide and usually with a gravel should. Traffic was also very light and at times I only saw one car every five to ten minutes. 
The host at the albergue had warned everyone that the road was boring, and because the section in the National Park was rough, that they should at least take a taxi to the entrance of the park. I think you could do this with many sections of the Camino and that’s not getting the full Camino experience. I just think his brother, or family member, probably owns the taxi service? Four people did actually take the cab. 
The host also told me the road was good and flat! I made sure to ask him again, and he said yes. I have realized myself, and from other people, that when you drive a road in a car you never notice uphill slopes, especially the slight ones. But, walking or pulling a Wheelie you definitely notice and feel them all. 
As it turned out, it was a nonstop roller coaster of hills, and very exhausting heat. As always, I was completely drenched in sweat. The nausea came back and I found myself stopping every chance I found a shady spot. It reached to the high eighties by eleven and then around 95-97 degrees most of the afternoon. 
Traffic was very light, and with the Wheelie, walking the asphalt is actually easier than dirt it gravel. The scenery was far from boring as it is mostly brush and small oak trees. It looks a lot like Southern California. 
It is a little over nine miles to the park entrance and I had made the decision to stay on the asphalt road so if I could not make it, I’d try to hitch a ride. By the time I reached the park I felt better. I sat in the shade and rethought my decision. It looked much further on the highway and the asphalt radiated a lot of heat, so off road I went into the National Park. 
The Camino is well marked through the park, with actual signs. The road is wide and compacted gravel, which makes it easier to pull the Wheelie. It was downhill at the beginning and as it started uphill I began to feel nauseous again, even a little worse. By then, I estimated I was more than half way through the park, and I questioned my decision to trek this way! I had only passed one small truck that might have been one of the park maintenance workers and never saw another person after that. 
As the Camino started getting stepper and steeper, my nausea became worse and I found myself becoming weaker and weaker, stopping every one hundred feet or so. What to do? It was so close on the map, and even going back to the highway would mean uphills and an even longer distance from this point to Almaden. 
I walked for another mile or so on fairly steep hills finally realized I couldn’t go another hundred feet, let alone that steep one mile climb into Almaden. Ironically, it was the exact section where the man died three weeks ago from heat exhaustion. 
I was mad at myself for having made such a stupid decision. I know it happens at times when you are overconfident, but after walking so many twenty to thirty mile days, surely 17-19 should be easy. Yes, it would gave been, but not when you are sick!
It was so hot and the nauseous so bad, that I couldn’t drink any more water because it made my feel stomach worse. I know I needed to keep drinking but every time I got a mouthful I wanted to throw up. I actually started feeling a little panicky. If I had not been sick, I would have just found the softest spot on the ground and spent the night and continued in the morning. My concern was that I would get worse? I had two more bottles of water and bread and cheese that I could not even think of eating during the day.
I luckily had a little cell service but I have no international calling or web service, but got the Spain’s emergency number (112, our 911) from home. I was concerned too was that I couldn’t tell them what was wrong or where I was at with my broken English. As it turned out they transferred me to an English speaking dispatcher. 
He was really through but had no idea where I was because I believe he was in Seville and didn’t know the area. I was on the phone with him for fifteen or more minutes (wait until I see my phone bill. Ha ha) and said he’d call medical services while he had me on the line. He said something about an ambulance and I told him I didn’t need one. He reasonably explained that they are never sure of the situations and are always cautious and send them out.   
I felt better knowing I’d at least have a ride and wasn’t so excited to be going in an ambulance. What if the fellow pilgrims saw me, they’d probably think I was dumb for going in the first place, and they’d be right. 
It was about twenty minutes later that I heard a loud speaker from a distance and then saw the Civilian Guardian’s (federal police) patrol car coming up the hill. Wow, was I thankful that it wasn’t an ambulance with red lights and siren going. 
The two officers were, Miguel and Agusoto, both probably in their early thirties. They were both very nice and didn’t speak English very well. I identified myself as a retired police officer and that made for an even nicer conversation with them. It seems most police throughout the world have this unrealistic glamorous image of American police. 
They helped load up the Wheelie and we headed to Almaden by some back roads and they even had a key to one of the gates blocking the road. They asked if I wanted to see a doctor, and my first macho thought was no, but I said yes. We actually had a great conversion and laughed quite a bit which helped me take my mind off of how bad I was feeling. 
They took me to the clinic, and just as I stepped out of the patrol car, three pilgrims that I had had dined with walked by. At least it wasn’t an ambulance. When they tried to tell me where the albergue was here in town, Agusoto said we will take him, he gets a special delivery. Felt good being the teacher’s pet again.
The doctor spoke no English and used a translator program on his phone to talk to me. I did not have a fever or lung congestion, and my blood pressure was normal. That one surprised me. He pushed on some sensitive places on my stomach. 
His conclusion was that I might have a bacteria from the water I drank from the tap at the hotel. I was told by the clerk there it that the water was fine. However, he thought that sometimes the water here is so different that some people from the USA end up with stomach problem. He also suggested that the heat was a contributing factor. 

I ended up getting a prescription for some medication from the pharmacy and started taking it right away because I constantly feel I might throw up.

The officers took me to the hostel and helped unload the Wheelie. They gave me great door to door service and I can only imagine what I would have done if I didn’t have cell service. 
I figured that I was probably less than a mile, or a mile and a half, from the end, but I don’t think I would not have made it without the help. 
I am in a very nice private albergue that is in a private home. It is in the first floor, separated from the main house and has a living room, dining area, kitchen and private bath. It has only two rooms with two beds each. Again, I have a room to myself. 
The owners, a Spaniard and Hungarian wife, told me I could stay as long as I need to get better. I could not have found a nicer place to stay and hopefully recover from this bug.  
Best wishes,

Ted 

Entry into the National Park

Camino in the National Park

That’s where I stopped

Miguel and Doctor 

Miguel, me, and Agusoto