I had a good, yet hard,  time of it today; 30 km in 6 hours. Not too bad.

I left Logroño at 5:45 this morning. My roommates from last night (Danny, Mette, and Birgit) were a bit surprised by how fast and early I was ready to head out this morning. Love travelling light…

I walked through the lovely downtown streets of Logroño in the early morning dark and I was surprised by the number of people in the streets. They were obviously coming home from a night of partying and were singing, clapping (a group activity in Spain), and talking. Everyone was in their late teens and early twenties. They were no causing any problems and it was all very social. This is apparently normal in Spain on the weekend.

I had a little bit of trouble finding the yellow arrows in the dark, but I finally found myself walking by a protected bird sanctuary. It was very pretty relaxing. Sat down and had a short rest.

I arrived in Navarette and I had a great pastry and orange juice. Life is good and my pace increased.

I met Anne and Mo near the end of the day, but I didn’t stay with them as I was in hustle mode, but Anne said that when we get to town she would check on my blisters. She is my hero.

After arriving in Najera, doing some laundry, and settling in, I called Sandy. Hearing her voice always makes the pain and fatigue disappear. I then met with Anne, Mo, and Kim and we had a few beers in the plaza. We talked about our travels and watched the locals set up for a medieval faire. Good beer, companionship, and nice weather. Yup, life is good.

Later, I had dinner with Morag, Peter, Kim, Anne, and Mo at a local restaurant that specializes in regional dishes.
I am currently relaxing in my bunk for a change, listening to some Gordon Lightfoot. I am in a weird mood. I think as I am currently having a love/hate relationship with the Camino. I miss Sandy and my family and sometimes the Camino feels like nothing more than some trial I have for some unknown reason decided to undertake with seeing my family being the final reward.

Strangely, after spending two nights in a house and a hotel it is so much more relaxing to be in an albergue. I guess it has to do with shared experience with those around you; the pain, the exhilarations, the fears, and the planning. Everyone has a common purpose.

I noted to myself today that there is no such thing as a solo endeavor. Everything you do can be traced to others in some way.

The Camino is not just a physical challenge that leads to betterment of some sort, but it also challenges us emotionally, physiologically, and spiritually.

It may not provide any ready answers, but it does help to frame the questions. As Mette said, it seems to encourage you to look at thinks in a backwards fashion; much like a proofreader who will read a sentence backwards to spot errors.

So, Will it change my life? I don’t know, perhaps is already has. I have met some amazing, wonderful, and strange people though, and from each of these I hope to add a piece to the puzzle.

Conclusions, mostly partial:

• I had to go a long way for something I could say “I did that” about. But I missed what was there right from the beginning, my family and friends.
• I want to learn to Tango
• I really for some reason want to watch Practical Magic with Sandy on a sunny day while drinking Coronas
• I would like to be better at listening to my kids.
• Not all lives are as glamorous and exciting as others, but they all involve people who care for each other
• I’m not as kind and caring as I pretend to be at times
• I love Sandy; even more than I thought was possible.

I wish I could see the lives of my children past my death. I hate not knowing how a story ends. I guess this is why death scares me so much, I just want to know what happens. Well that, and the notion of Hell or just plain nothingness have something to do with it too.

Soundscape – Bells

This morning Anne checked my feet again (she rocks), and I headed out for Santo Domingo de la Calzada (a chicken was resurrected here). The sky was grey the entire day and I had to pack well with all my electronics deep into the pack. I stopped for an OJ and an amazing croissant in Azorfra, and then did a nonstop 15 km walk to the city. At one point the mud became incredible for several kilometres. I mean it was really deep, and thick, and stuck to my shoes like nothing had before. I tried to walk on the grassy edges, but so had everyone in front of me, so they were not much better. It was a bit tough, but fun at the same time.

Good day, 22km in about 4 hours.

When I arrived in Santo Domingo I joined Keith and Kim while we waited for the albergue to open. We stood around and talked about the obvious tourigrinos. They particularly stood out as anyone who walked today would have mud up to at least their ankles.

The albergue is nice and it even comes with three roosters to wake us up. It is considered good luck if you hear one as you leave in the morning.

Anne and Mo found room at the albergue that is run by the local convent; it is just down the street. Anne again had to tend to my feet, but I’m happy to say that my knees seem to have completely healed! Yea! We sat about and drank some wine.

I went out for a walk, and ended up in a small bar looking for some cerveza and food. I was starving. So, I looked at the tapas that were sitting under glass at the bar. I asked for one that seemed to be some kind of fritter. The owner looked at me and stated, “Porco”. Hey, I like pork, and said “Si!” He looked at me again and said “Porco” and rapped his knuckles on the counter. I nodded, “Si”. So I took my food and beer and sat down. I guess I should have seen this coming, or figured it out, but I was tired I guess, so I ended up sitting there with pig’s feet in front of me. Well, I did try them. Not my thing, but the bread and beer were good.

So I went back to finish my laundry and get washed for dinner.

Well, dinner was not a great success. The company was great, but the food and service was okay at best. Of course, this is the same restaurant where earlier in the day I ordered pig’s feet. Should have known…

After dinner we did a walk about, as it was earlier than normal, and I ended up having a few beers with Danny Birgit, and Keith. Lovely time.

Soundscape – Birds
Soundscape – Cafe

Only did another 22 km today, and I took a nice eight hours to do it in. These gave me an opportunity to rest and air my blisters often. It was worth it.

I traveled with Anne and Mo for most of the day and we hit several small villages in a row. This morning I had a wonderful coffee con leche and a boccadillo with cheese in Grañon with them and we looked in on a wonderful small village church. It was amazing. The artisans knew how to build a sense of wonder, and this was just in a small village!

The walk was sunny today and it wound through the green hills and fields on a gravel path.

In Villamayor del Rio, the last little village before Belorado, Moe, Anne, and I sat in the tiny central square, ate fruit, and watched numerous village dogs and cats. We had never seen so many in one place in Spain.

I ended up in a new albergue that seems almost like a resort. There is even a pool. I am not used to this. There is a nice computer lounge and the laundry it all new. The bunk beds are stable and all is good in the world. I had a beer in the afternoon sun with Danny, Mo, and Anne which we followed up with a nice paella dinner that Morag and Peter joined us for. The paella was universally loved.

Then I retired out to the patio to have a drink with Peter and Morag and they described their jobs in more detail. They are both working in climate research, which in my mind is not only a timely field to be in, but a vital one also. They described how they are working on models to track different gasses in the atmosphere, as well as some history and stories about work others have done in climatology; efforts such as tracking down climate information from medieval manuscripts and records and how someone is actually taking regular air samples and sealing them so we have a record we can go back to. Very cool stuff.

Soundscape – Road to Belarado

I’m sitting in Atapuerca in the main kitchen. I was to be in a semi-private area, but I was uncomfortable sharing a room with a woman. I’ve been in a room with several women, but that just meant that there were chaperones, in this case there wouldn’t have been one, so I switched for a bunk with Alex.

The walk today seemed long, which really it was; 30 km. I am doing well enough though. I was walking with Anne, Mo, and Danny. They help me from going off like a fool at high-speed.

We intended to walk to San Juan de Ortega and the last 12 km to get there was flat, boring, and hot. We were very much looking forward to a bed and shower. However, when we arrived, we found that the priest had recently died and the refugio was closed. It is hard to find out that you suddenly have a 30 km day when you are mentally prepared for a 24 km day. Sigh.

I shared some bread and cheese with my walking companions and we drank water and tonica while reviewing our options.

My companions opted for a ride. I opted to walk, just to see how I would do. Danny was able to ensure we would have rooms at the albergue, bless her and her cell phone, and they snagged a ride from a kind Spaniard.

I waved to them and headed on. The next part of the walk was not too bad. It had more shade than earlier in the day and it was very pretty. I noticed that at one point while I was leaving a wooded area that the clouds seem to race away from the tree tops at an unnaturally high speed. I assume it was some sort of optical illusion, but it was very cool.

I found myself at Ages. A very pretty little place, but the albergue was full. Ah well, only 4 km to Atapuerca. I had to stop halfway though as I was close to done.

When I walked into Atapuerca, Mo gave me a cheer and a beer. It started to rain.

In the evening Mo, Anne, Danny, and Alex decided to make dinner and asked me to join them. So we went to the store and picked up supplies. They would  nt let me pay for the food or do anything as they said it was to repay the small kindnesses I’ve done for them along the way. It felt nice.

We had a lovely spaghetti dinner with wine and a fair amount of laughs, and then we sat around while Anne checked us for blisters. Ah, life on the Camino.

Soundscape – Water and Birds

I stayed at: Albergue de Atapuerca

The next morning was mist, and lots of it. Visibility was at times less than 30 feet or so. It was a long, cold, misty, and rainy walk.

After a few hours I came across Peter and Morag. We chatted and strolled together for a bit until my knees started to ache. I slowed down for a few kilometers. I caught a second wind and met up with them again when they were have a rest stop near the top of a hill in the shade of a lone tree.

Our intention was to take the southern route into Burgos as the normal route leads you through 10 kilometres of industrial wasteland. Most guide books recommend avoid it by taking the south trail which is just a few kilometers longer but much nicer, or to take a bus from the outskirts of Burgos from the little bedroom community of Villa Fria. Well, we missed the south turnoff and ended up in Villa Fria. We were not to sure where the bus stop would be but Morag, an astute student of history and European culture surmised that it would be by the cultural centre of town; the church. She was right, it was right across the street from the church.

We found it quite strange to be in a motorized vehicle for the first time in almost two weeks. Fortunately the ride was relatively short and we were deposited near city centre. We found our way to the cathedral with the help of Peter’s GPS phone and we separated as I was looking for the albergue and they were going to try for a 2-star hostel or hotel.

The albergue is not too great. It had started to rain while I waited in line and the albergue itself is humid and wet. Really one of the least comfortable albergues I’ve seen. Everything felt damp, and shortly so did all my clothes and gear. I was going to start running out of dry clothes soon. Oh well. Life on the Camino.

I went to the Burgos city centre with Keith, Alex, and Birgit and we had an amazing supper at Restaurante Meson de los Infantes. It was the best meal I have had on the trip so far. Garlic soup with an egg in it and a roast chicken to die for, the obligatory french fries (they get served with everything here) and then cheese drizzled with honey for desert. Then we rolled to the cathedral. I was gobsmacked! I’ve never seen anything like it! It was immense, ornate, and inspiring. I was amazed by the shear devotion and man-hours that went into the building and the artworks. I even saw El Cid’s tomb.

Keith and I then wandered in the rain searching for bank machines. We were wrapped in the two very thin ponchos I had luckily picked up in Belorado, mine was yellow, and Keith’s was orange. This was followed by a few hours shopping for socks, postcards, fruit, bread, ponchos, stamps, and phone cards. Then Keith took me to the old city of Burgos to have a look around. Keith is a right, good mate. We saw some statues of El Cid and I think a Constable.

We started to head back to the albergue by way of the cathedral and stopped to make calls our Sandy and Alice. While hanging around the pay phone, Ellen found us and noted in her wonderful Dublin accent, that we “Look like ****’in condoms!” I like Ellen.

So we had some wine and beer in a street café with her and Danny (who graciously suggested I call Sandy on her cell phone as my phone card was giving me trouble) and we then paid a visit to Anne and Mo as they were in a hotel not far away. Keith and I had a glass of wine and we exchanged contact information with Ellen, Mo, and Anne ad we were not sure if our paths would merge again. Then back to the albergue, a damp sleeping bag and a sleeping pill.

Left Burgos in the rain. It kept up for most of the day. Fortunately, I had my new poncho.

I walked steady for 9 km to Taradajos. Occasionally, I could see Keith’s yellow slicker in the distance moving quickly and possibly Peter and Morag’s green and red gortex jackets as well as I moved though the rolling hills and valleys. When I got to Taradajos I sat with Peter, Morag, and Birgit just long enough to say hi over a café con leche and a pastry. After they trekked out, I leaned back with my eyes closed and recouped some energy before starting out again myself.

I seemed to pick up a bit of euphoria. I like to think it was the alchemical mixing of coffee and sweet pastry with 10 days of ibuprofen, sleeping pills, and codeine. I felt great and I trudged on at a fairly good clip.

Partly due to my temporary vigor and partly due to the rain which left the paths submerged and muddy;I caught up to Peter and Morag, and trust me, they can move at a good clip. It was a frightful walk the last 6 km to Hontanas. Most people were walking off the track on the elevated side, but it was rocky and treacherous. Peter and Morag had to walk right down the centre in most cases, as it was too difficult for Morag to lead Peter over the rocks. I walked with them for a bit and then decided to move on in hope of getting a room before they were all taken – a very real concern this year it seemed.

When I got to the Hontanos, the private and very nice albergue was already booked. Keith, of course, moved like a demon when he walks and he had already checked in and having a beer. I moved on to the municipal albergue, which turned out to be very nice as well.

I noted a hotel up the hill as I had walked into town so I decided to see if they had any rooms left. It turns out they had one and I reserved it for Peter and Morag. They were having a rough day with all the deep water and mud and were soaked past their knees. They were happy to have a nice place for the night.

I did some laundry and then sat in the café. I had a cerveza and wrote postcards to Sandy and the kids. I spotted Keith and we sat at the counter and had another. It had been a long day.

We sat down with Peter, Morag, Katie, Danny, and Birgit for some wine. Actually, I believe it was two bottles, but there were several of us working the issue. We ended up having dinner at a large table together. It was the usual good food and companionship, and a fine time.

After dinner Keith, Danny, Birgit, and I joined Peter and Morag in their room to discuss strategy for the next day. We decided that with all the traffic on the Camino and limited destination possibilities for the next day, we would be best off booking the next night in advance. So, Keith called a Pensione in Fromista for us all. Then we all went back to our respective albergues to get some sleep.

Soundscape – birds

Michael called to say he had made it to Hontanas. He should be in Leon within six days, and since the terrain is fairly flat here, his old man knees shouldn’t give him trouble. He’s hoping to take a rest day in Leon, and hope he can dry out some clothes – it’s been raining steadily.

My favourite part of this is getting voice mail. First you get a “You have a message, followed by a long set of digits, then a hang up. No “I’m in Blah, and I’m fine, call you in two hours”. I will have words…

Michael called to say there is no internet access until probably Leon. It’s also been “#%@*ing raining for the entire day”. Right now he’s in a small town that was the bread basket of the Western Roman Empire: Fromista. Shin splints are flaring up, and his rest day may have to come sooner than later.

I left Hontanas in the rain. This is becoming so familiar. Slog, slog, slog. Too bad about the rain as it was a lovely walk, but I had to keep the camera packed to protect it.

The walk to Castrojériz followed a road for a good portion, but the trees were pleasant and there wasn’t too much traffic. My legs were quiet painful, and my left shin was really giving me problems today. It has swollen up a fair bit too and I’m afraid that I may have either shin splints or tendonitis.

As I walked down the road I could see Castrojériz slowly grow larger in the distance. It is a stunning building and I cursed again that my camera was in the middle of my pack. I stopped at a café that is right beside Castrojériz and said hi to Keith who was just leaving. I sat with Morag and Peter for some café con leche and bocadillos. We were outside a porch, warming up as best we could with cafés and relaxing. There were a fair number of other pilgrims there and the mood seemed a bit subdued. Too grey for too long I think. I set out again.

Just past Castrojériz, I encountered an old raised Roman road. It had been updated a little on the top to keep things together, but none the less it was a cool feeling to walk along it. It rose a good five feet above the surrounding terrain and you could see the tactical advantage this would give travelling soldiers. It easily outweighed the fact that it made you somewhat obvious. Hard to sneak along a raised road, but then again, I don’t think sneaking was a standard Roman tactic. I could be wrong.

Just past the Roman road section, the Camino raises high and sharp to the meseta above. I had some trouble moving up the incline and had to stop several times along the way. Thankfully, the trail at this point is well covered in gravel. I can’t imagine what it would have been like going up that incline if it were covered in mud. I rested at the top, then began a long walk across somewhat rolling plains. This part of the walk was riddled with pools of rainwater and mud and I found it hard going. I stopped to take some extra codeine.

I stopped in on a café in Itero de la Vega to get out of the rain and to have a café con leche and some food. As I arrived, I bumped into Keith and Danny as they were heading out. We chatted and laughed a bit while I helped them get their raingear on. Then Keith, being the wonderful man that he is, started to dance around his walking stick while singing the classic rain song; Singing in the Rain. We all had a great laugh and several incoming pilgrim replaced their tired frowns with smiles. Well, except for one German pilgrim who just gave Keith a frown and muttered “Not normal” which of course made people laugh even more. Peter and Morag arrived as I was ordering so we joined each other for a meal and to dry out.

Along this part of the path I met an interesting man, whose name I unfortunately remember. He is, if my memory can be trusted, a Dane and, from what I can tell, rather highly placed in the Schweppes company. I told him that Sandy and I love Schweppes and that it is the only brand of tonic and club soda we drink. He seemed pleased and we walked together for an hour or so until I noted that I was holding him back and I suggested he head on without me.
The last part of the day to Fromista was very painful and I could feel it getting worse with each step. Peter and Morag passed me and expressed some concern, but there is little that could be done. I told them I’d meet up to them in Fromista. When I arrived, the last of our little group, I found the pensione we had booked. Keith was drying out in our room, Danny, Birgit, Peter and Morag were doing the same in their respective rooms. I stuffed my boots with newspaper and had a much-needed hot shower followed by more painkillers, followed by cerveza.

Keith, Birgit, Danny and I then went out to visit the famous Fromista cheese museum. It was interesting, if somewhat underwhelming. It did however serve a nice cheese plate and Birgit treated us to a bottle of red wine. Peter and Morag joined us and we relaxed with the wine until we decided it was time to visit the church, Iglesia de San Martin. The church was lovely and the carvings were quiet extraordinary, in my opinion. Later we went out for dinner and had some lovely garlic soup, followed up with a bottle of wine in Keith’s and my room. We discussed our plans for the next day. Morag and Peter were going to do the 37 km stretch, Danny and Birgit the 20, and Keith was undecided and intended to play it by ear. I had to make the difficult choice of moving on by foot or moving my train and resting.

I debated the pros and cons with my walking companions, and I came to the conclusion that I need to give my body a rest for a day or two. I have been in pain since Zubiri and the shin splints (or tendonitis) are getting worse. I barely made the 35 km to Fromista. It was a difficult choice for me.

As Keith said (paraphrased), “You’ve damned well walked over 350 km in pain, take a rest. Are you walking for pride, or for other reasons?”

But as I think on it, one of the many reasons I decided to do the Camino was that I often play things by rote and cautiously. Here I was forced to change a plan (with a certain amount of anxiety), adapt, and move on. In some ways this was part of my Camino, walked or not. I do hope that it will not have to be repeated though as I really have the hankering for a good walk already.

I was beating myself up a fair bit about it, but it seems the best solution is to take the train to Sahagun, rest a day while waiting for my walking group to catch up, and then try walking again. It means I miss about 50 km of the entire walk, but really that isn’t much. Cross your fingers for me.

So that is that. My train leaves at 8:00am and I should be back on the road in a few days.