Pause and Wander

Dates: September 24–28, 2025

Routes and Distances: 

Ledigos to Sahagún (17 km) → Sahagún to Burgo Ranero (18 km) → Burgo Ranero to Mansilla (19 km) → Mansilla to León (22 km) → Rest day in León

The Meseta is a strange beast. On paper it looks like an easy stretch of the Camino—flat, open, endless skies. In practice it’s a slow grind that tests not the legs, but the spirit.

After our unexpectedly long day into Ledigos, our silver lining was a shorter day to follow. And it was made even sweeter by the surprise appearance of “Il Guru Improbable”, one of those characters you meet on the Camino that you don’t forget. He had a roadside stall where he provided pilgrims with wax stamps, free but donations welcomed. He provided us with lots of laughs and entertainment as he created his mini works of art in our Pilgrim Passports: the best 10€ we’d spent all day!

We hit the supposed halfway point somewhere between Ledigos and Sahagún. “Somewhere” because the Camino, with its usual sense of humor, offers no fewer than four official markers, each claiming the honor. We did what any indecisive family of pilgrims would do: took photos at all of them. Surely one will count.

The Meseta’s scenery wasn’t the problem. There was a bleak beauty in the long roads, the harvested fields, and the sense of walking inside a horizon line. What wore us down were the towns and hostels at day’s end—dusty little affairs with paper-thin mattresses, scratchy blankets, and food that tried but rarely succeeded. In Sahagún, we stayed in a converted convent. Religious posters and crucifixes filled the walls, reminders of a faith that threads deeply through this path. The upside: it was staffed by kind volunteers and “sacerdotes” from all over the world, and we had a private ensuite room for only 32€, a bargain by any measure. The downside: the room was freezing, the mattress thin, and the blanket inadequate. Rest remained elusive.

In El Burgo Ranero we found a hotel that was somehow both sterile and grimy, as if it couldn’t decide on an identity. At least the lunch at a neighboring hostel was memorable—giant hamburgers, spaghetti bolognese, and a radler that washed away a layer of dust from our throats. The Camino offers these tiny mercies, and we grab onto them like lifelines.

Walking itself wasn’t the chore. Our legs carried us steadily, fueled by jelly beans, bananas, and a Twix divided four ways. Arya and Finlee laughed their way through Brandon Sanderson audiobooks, the absurd humor matching the absurdity of trudging across Spain with backpacks. It was the in-between—the blistered feet, the cold hostels, the disappointing towns—that sapped us.

And then, a shift. A perfect walking day delivered crisp air, golden light, and leaves just starting to turn. We landed in Mansilla de las Mulas and were delighted to cross paths again with Hilda, our Australian-Colombian friend. Despite her age, a nagging knee injury, and the many obstacles the Camino seems determined to place in every pilgrim’s way, she presses on with steady determination. Watching her grit and grace in the face of it all was a reminder of why we are out here: the Camino isn’t just about moving forward on the map, but about moving forward together, each at our own pace, with resilience as the true measure of progress.

The real turning point came in León. The walk into the city alongside a busy road and through the industrial outskirts was dreadful, but what waited for us made it worth every step: Arya’s 11th birthday. Our chic apartment in the old town had real beds (with actual comfort!), and at our request the manager went above and beyond—decorating the place with pink balloons, a shining gold Mylar “11,” drinks, and a cake that made Arya’s eyes go wide. She squealed when we opened the door, and that moment alone felt like a gift to us all.

The day unfolded exactly as she wished. We wandered the old town to find her favorite foods, made a grocery run to stock up for our stay, and then gathered at a bistro for her surprise party. Friends we’d met along the way—Ben and his mom Hilda, Kiwi Patricia, and Martine and Heline, the French pair charmed by Arya’s language skills—they all showed up ready to celebrate. The bistro didn’t serve chocolate ice cream, so a smuggled pair of cones made its way to the table, to Arya’s delight. Despite our protests, each pilgrim had brought her a small gift. Toasts were made, laughter echoed, and Arya beamed at being the center of a Camino family celebration.

Back at the apartment, she chose Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them for her birthday movie night. We made it partway through before exhaustion set in, but Arya went to bed grinning, balloons bobbing above her.

What gift can you get a kid for her birthday when packing light on the Camino? A rest day, of course!  It turned into one of the best days yet. León opened its arms with a scavenger hunt: Gaudí’s fairy-tale Casa Botines, San Marcos convent turned fancy hotel Parador, a bronze lion leaping from a sewer grate, canela pastries, and finally the León Cathedral glowing with stained glass. To top it off, the whole city was alive with festivities, celebrating El Día de León, its civic birthday—parades, music, shops open on a Sunday—the streets were alive.

That day closed not with exhaustion, but with cake and movie night. The Meseta may have tested our resolve, but family, friends, and small joys carried us through. With Arya’s birthday break, we felt ready to smash the second half of this journey. The Camino had chipped away at us, but somewhere between dust and balloons, we realized it was shaping us too.