What Closed, What It Means for Us
A long heatwave and record wildfires changed the Camino this season. Authorities shut a stretch of the Camino Francés—about 50 kilometers—between Astorga and Ponferrada. Trains in the zone also saw disruptions. Buses shifted. Schedules bent. Pilgrims paused. In other words, the usual flow met a hard stop.
This is tough news. It is also a safety win. Fire moves fast in dry wind. Smoke pools in valleys. Rail lines and roads need room for crews. When officials close a corridor, they are protecting us, the towns, and the people who keep this route alive. Closures are not the end of our Camino. They are part of a living journey that must adapt to real life.
Let’s name the heart of it. The Astorga→Ponferrada section is a classic step in the story of the Francés. We love the rhythm of small plazas and wheat fields. We love the long lines of cypress and the iron markers by the road. We love the climb toward El Bierzo and the promise of wine, chestnut trees, and mountain air. So yes, this hurts. But most of all, it reminds us what the Camino has always taught: we keep going together, even when the path bends.
What does the closure mean day to day?
- We do not walk the closed segment. We avoid smoke and active fire zones.
- We skip ahead by bus or, when available, by regional train to Ponferrada or to the next safe village.
- We rest when asked by local authorities and Camino groups, because rest is part of the work now.
- We stay flexible. Closures can shrink or expand as conditions change.
This is a time for calm choices. We can still collect stamps. We can still meet friends. We can still reach Santiago. We simply trade one kind of story for another. Instead of a strict, unbroken line, we carry a story of care and good judgment. That is a strong story.
If you are in León, Astorga, Rabanal, Foncebadón, Molinaseca, or Ponferrada, you will feel the ripple. Some albergues will be quiet for a week. Others will be busy as walkers gather and reroute. Transport desks will see lines. Station boards will change. A café that planned for a rush may serve fewer lunches. Another café by a bus stop may sell twice the tortillas. In other words, the Camino economy shifts with the wind. We can help steady it by being gentle, patient, and fair.
Let’s also talk about heat. High heat does not just make walking miserable. It raises real medical risks: heat cramps, heat exhaustion, and, in the worst case, heat stroke. Smoke adds another layer. Eyes burn. Lungs ache. Headaches spike. If the air smells like a campfire and the horizon looks brown, we do not push through to “keep the streak.” We slow. We pivot. We protect our bodies first.
Here is what local teams want from us right now:
- Follow closures. Respect tape, signs, and advice from police, rangers, and firefighters.
- Make room for crews. Keep roads, tracks, and plazas clear where trucks must pass.
- Skip the selfies in burn zones. These are people’s fields and forests. Dignity matters.
- Plan transport early in the day. Seats fill fast during disruptions.
And we can still honor the spirit of the route. We can volunteer a seat, share water, and help translate for a pilgrim who is stressed. We can leave a note on the albergue board with the day’s bus times. We can offer our spare mask to someone coughing in smoke. Small kindnesses travel fast on this road. They are the true currency of the Camino.
Smart Detours, Safe Travel, and Heat-Ready Plans
Closures ask us to think like guides. So let’s map options with a cool head and a friendly voice. Our goal is simple: keep the pilgrimage alive, keep our bodies safe, and support the towns that host us.
1) Skip the closure cleanly.
The fastest, safest choice is to travel around the closed section and pick up the trail on the far side. From Astorga, look for a regional bus to Ponferrada or Villafranca del Bierzo. From León, you can also move to Ponferrada in one shot and then walk back east for a day if conditions allow. In practice, many of us will:
- Book a morning bus.
- Rest at mid-day when heat peaks.
- Walk a short, safe evening stage if local guidance says yes.
You will still earn stamps. You will still meet people. And you will show respect for the communities working under pressure.
2) Consider alternate stages while you wait.
If you’re held in León, Astorga, or Ponferrada for a day or two, you can do short sunrise loops on open, safe urban or riverside paths. Ask your host for a local greenway, park circuit, or church-to-church walk that avoids smoke and crews. You’ll keep your legs ready and your spirit steady without crowding a fire line.
3) Eye the Invierno and other lesser-known options—carefully.
When the Francés is pressured, some pilgrims sample a leg of the Camino de Invierno beyond Ponferrada, or choose a rest day and then a bus hop to resume the Francés in Villafranca del Bierzo. This is not a rule. It’s simply a way to keep moving if official notices point that way. The key is simple: do not chase a new route into the same weather or smoke. We pivot only if conditions truly improve in the next valley.
4) Keep your credential intact.
Your pilgrim passport (credential) tells your story, even with a skipped section. Stamp where you sleep. Stamp where you eat. Stamp at a parish, museum, or café. Add a short note in your journal: “Stage skipped for fire closure.” The Camino office understands. Safety is not a loophole. It is a value.
5) Make transport your ally.
During disruptions, trains can be limited, and bus routes carry more weight. Here is a simple strategy that works:
- Buy early in the day for same-day travel.
- Travel light so you can board quickly.
- Carry cash and a card. Machines fail.
- Arrive 20–30 minutes early. Lines form fast when many pilgrims pivot at once.
- Ask the driver if the stop you want is open; sometimes coaches skip smoke-affected towns.
6) Build a heat-smart day.
Heat is the background drumbeat of this season. We can still walk, but we walk like mountain people who respect the sun:
- Start before dawn. Leave when stars fade. Arrive by late morning.
- Drink early, not just when thirsty. Take small sips every 10–15 minutes.
- Salt and carbs matter. Snack on simple foods that your body knows—bananas, nuts, bread, yogurt, and soup.
- Cover up. Wide-brim hat, light long sleeves, neck buff. In other words, shade you can wear.
- Cool the key points. Wet your hat, buff, or sleeves at fountains. Cool wrists and the back of the neck.
- Know the signs. Cramps, heavy sweat that suddenly stops, chills, confusion, pounding pulse. If you or a friend shows these, stop, cool, hydrate, and seek help.
7) Walk smoke-aware.
If a stage is open but the air looks hazy, use simple rules:
- Mask up if your chest feels tight. A snug mask helps filter particles.
- Dial back effort. Take shorter steps and more breaks.
- Rest inside at mid-day if smoke thickens.
- Watch your eyes. Rinse gently with clean water if they burn.
8) Pack for fire season.
Your pack is your calm. Add a few small things that make a big difference:
- A light mask for smoke days
- Refillable bottles or a bladder (2–3 liters total)
- Electrolyte tabs or salty snacks
- A thin sun shirt and a buff
- Eye drops and lip balm
- A small power bank (heat kills phone batteries fast)
- A printed list of regional bus operators and town transport desks
- A pen to update your credential and jot detours
9) Lean on albergues and small hotels.
Hospitaleros and front-desk staff are our best guides in a shifting week. They know which road is open, which driver is reliable, and which bakery stayed stocked when trucks were delayed. Be candid about your needs. If you’re heat-sensitive, say so. If you’re traveling with a child or an elder, ask for a ground-floor bed or a fan near the window. Clear words save energy and time.
10) Keep your budget sane.
Disruptions can tempt us into panic spending. Instead, use a steady plan:
- Book one night at a time. Flexibility beats big, breakable blocks.
- Choose set-menu meals. Pilgrim menus deliver calories, salt, and water for a fair price.
- Share taxis only when buses fail and only with folks headed to the same stop.
- Keep small bills. Rural kiosks often prefer cash when networks lag.
11) Travel insurance and refunds.
If you booked rail or long-distance tickets that were canceled, keep screenshots and receipts. Many operators allow fee-free changes during fire and heat emergencies. Be polite and firm. Note the date, time, and station where the change was announced. That paper trail helps.
12) Mindset is gear.
We walk with patience. We walk with humor. We walk with grace for the people who live here and the people fighting the fires. When a plan breaks, we say: “Okay. New plan.” That simple phrase can save a day.
13) Safety checklist you can use right now.
- Is today’s stage confirmed open by your host or the local office?
- Do you have 2–3 liters of water to start, plus salty snacks?
- Do you know the nearest bus stop and today’s times?
- Did you mark a mid-day cool-down spot on the map?
- Is your credential in an easy pocket to stamp if you pivot?
- Do you have a mask in case smoke rolls in?
- Does someone in your group have a heat plan (how to cool and when to stop)?
If you answered “yes” down the list, you are set to move with confidence.
14) Gentle words for your heart.
It is okay to feel sad about a skipped stretch. It is okay to rest for two days and then continue. It is okay to bus around the fires and still call this your Camino. The spirit of pilgrimage is not a GPS track. It is a way of walking through the world with attention, love, and courage.
Ember-Bright Endings, Clear-Sky Beginnings
Closures test us, but they also teach us. They teach us how to care for each other under pressure. They teach us how to let go of a plan that no longer fits the day. They teach us how to celebrate small wins, like cool shade at noon or an open bakery in a quiet town. After more than a thousand years, the Camino is still here because people choose wisdom over pride. We can choose the same.
Here is the simple truth. The Francés between Astorga and Ponferrada will reopen when it is safe. Crews will finish their work. Smoke will lift. The land will rest. The people who live there will welcome us back with the same warmth we remember. In other words, this pause is not a period. It is a comma. We catch our breath, and then the sentence goes on.
What do we do until then?
We walk early. We drink water. We listen to locals. We hold space for the firefighters. We spend money in the towns that are open, because that support matters. We say “gracias,” “por favor,” and “buen camino” like we mean it. We share shade and citrus and news. We keep our sense of humor. We stamp our credentials with pride, even if the stamps come from a bus station and a tiny chapel instead of two mountain villages. The spirit does not shrink. It travels.
If the heat keeps biting, we adjust again. We pick shorter days and more rest. We choose river paths and city circuits when the countryside is smoky. We practice patience with our knees and with each other. We remember that a pilgrimage is not a race. It is a practice. It is how we learn to move through hard things with soft hearts.
And when we finally stand on the stones of Obradoiro Square, we will carry a different kind of story. We will tell friends about a year of fires and changes. We will point to the stamps that mark the detour. We will laugh about the morning we chased a bus at dawn with our packs half-buckled and still made it with time for coffee. We will remember a hospitalera who kept her door open late for a tired pair of walkers. We will remember how strangers shared the last table fan on a hot night and took turns leaning into the breeze. These are real Camino moments. They shine.
Most of all, we will honor the people who live along this road. Farmers, shopkeepers, bus drivers, nurses, priests, café owners, and school kids who wave from balconies. They carry the Camino when we fly home. Our choices now—respect for closures, steady spending in open towns, patient travel—are our way of saying thank you. They are our way of being good guests.
So take a breath. Pack a little lighter. Step out early. If the path is closed, step sideways with grace. If the air is smoky, sit for a while and write a postcard. If a train is late, share fruit with the person beside you. We are not losing the Camino. We are learning it again, in a season of heat and fire, with the same old lessons shining through: care, courage, community.
The road waits. The bells will ring. The doors will open. And you will walk on—safer, wiser, kinder—toward the city of the ancient light.
Ash-Soft Pause, Sun-Clear Steps