The Winemaker

It rains on the plains of Spain as I set out in the dark.  I have not yet made up my mind to where I will walk today.  I decide to see what the day will bring.

The route takes me along a water canal, nowadays only used for irrigation.  I listen to the rhythmic cadence of my footsteps on the dirt road.  The only other sound is that of the wind through the leaves and reeds, growing next to the canal.

As the day wears on I marvel at small things nature brings upon my path. But this is a story for another time.

I stop at St. Nicolas for the night.  Here the caretaker shows us around and explains how to use the hot water and warns us to use water sparingly.  

After I shower, I go outside to wash my clothes on the round, worn stone. The caretaker comes to me with a little bit of wine in a glass and asks me to taste it.  When he brings me some more, he tells me that I must drink it quickly - the hospitaleiros do not like him giving wine to the pilgrims.  I find it a little amusing.

After a while he invites me to visit his cellar in the nearby pueblo, the village.  I walk with him as he pushes his bicycle up the path.  He points to a little vineyard and tells that it is his.  He has also just harvested his patch of wheat.

We arrive and he opens a heavy wooden door to the cellar, which forms part of his house. It is dark and he goes down the stairs to switch on the light. It is cool and the walls are crumbling.  The cellar is over 300 years old.

I feel somewhat uneasy as I  notice that he has a knife.  My flight mode is in full red alert.  I remember that the whistle I always carry on me is somewhere amongst my things in the albergue.

He starts cutting little pieces of chourizo and hands it to me.  Homemade.  Delicious.

He shows me the press he uses to press the grapes.  There are three barrels containing just over 300 litres of wine.  He tends to the vineyard himself and makes the wine without any help.  The wine is exclusively for St. Nicolas.  

When we finish, he gestures that we should go up and I climb the uneven stairs. As we step into the daylight I am somewhat relieved.  I thank him for his kind hospitality and friendliness.  He holds my shoulders and asks that I keep him in my prayers.  As I promise that I will, I see water welling up in his eyes.

As I make my way out of the village, I give thanks for my safety, and ask forgiveness for my mistrust.   And when I walk through the fields of golden grass towards St. Nicolas I pray that blessings and grace be showered upon the Winemaker of the Pueblo de Itero de Castilo, Provincia de Burgos, Junta de Castilla y Leon, Espana - Senor Miguel.

Buen Camino!

Jovita

1 October 2013