Astorga to Rabanal del Camino (Sep 27)

It was good to finally leave the highway after Astorga and even better that our long walking day (for us that is anything more 20km) coincided with cool morning. There were several reasons for the more pleasant weather; we were another month towards the cooler period of the year, but at the same time we were gradually ascending to higher altitude.. We passed several small villages and just as it got warm in the middle of the day we headed into yet another oak forest.

Our next destination for the night Rabanal del Camino was surprisingly interesting. We were desperate for a cup of tea and so we were immediately attracted to a new, professional prepared sign proclaiming a taverna with "Italian cuisine" in English. We ordered tea and was suprised to  be served with an empty teapot containing a tea bag, a jug of hot milk and no water. And the tea was green tea. We should know better to order tea in a country better known for coffee! We did not return to the bar for another drink not just for that reason alone but the village was built on a steeply sloping land and our hostal was right on the top of the hill. We did not want to have to repeat the climb again.

We were also surprised to find that tbe restaurant at our accommodation not only stay open at our hours but actually received mention in the Michelin guide. The fish and seafood soup in the "menu del diaz" was remarkable as was the stew.

After dinner we attended part of the vesper run each night by the local Bendictine monks for pilgrims; the Latin service was supplemented by readings in a number of languages by pilgrims from a number of countries. We were not present for it but the monks also bless stones that some pilgrims carry to be placed at the Cruz de Ferro, the iron cross on the highest elevation point of the entire Camino now just half a day's  walk away.

Astorga (Sep 26)

Villadangos was one of half a dozen or so small communities that lined the original Camino route in parrallel with the busy main highway N120 between Leon and Astorga, which was why some walkers choose to use a longer alternate and more scenic route of recent creation. We chose to get over this uninteresting stretch by busing down the highway some 14 km to Hospital de Orbigo where I made my way back on the Camino track and Kay continued on to Astorga.

Oak trees and acorns.

I had some trouble finding my way to the Camino initially and ended up walking along the busy road for some distance with cars zooming past me at 80 km/h or more. I was about to turn back when a truck driver kindly indicated to me to carry on as I was indeed on the right track. Eventually I was able to join the alternate route that veered away from the highway, past a quiet village and then over a couple of hills and through an oak forest. From a lookout I was able to see Astorga and beyond that the ridge we would have to ascend in the next few days.

Astorga is a very attractive touristy town that has not just a cathedral but also a Gaudi designed mansion to its name. It prides itself to a range of local specialties in confectionary and for that reason has a large number of chocolatiers. Busloads of tourists descend on the town each day, described disparagingly by some as tourigrinos, tourist visting the Camino sights by buses. Of course whoever we are we have impacts on the community, both positive and negative.

Now in a more touristy place, we have found that more English were spoken by the storekeepers and more shops were open during the afternoon. Happily for us, we were able to find a restaurant that was open all day!

Town square at Astorga.

Leon to Villadangos (Sep 25)

When I referred to Leon's wide streets and pavements, it was that of the new town.  Behind the main thoroughfare of the old town where our Hotel Paris was located was a maze of winding narrow streets of shops, restaurants and bars that come alive after sunset.

Ahead of Leon, the distances between places to stay were such that we had to choose between a long day of walking or two short days. The change in the weather helped us make the decsion. Short days would allow us to cope better with the anticipated wet day, and especially the climb ahead since we had come to the end of the meseta.

Right on cue light rain began falling as we made our way out of Leon by following the yellow arrow signs painted onto pavements, drainpipes and sometimes smack in the middle of grafittis.

We made two stops at bars to dry off over cups of tea. Beyond the outer suburb of Virgen del Camino, without the shelter of the urban buildings we were soon exposed to very strong winds and driving rain. Our Gortex jackets did not protect fully and by the time we got to San Miguel we were cold and damp.

Storks' nests on church.

We had done more 10 km and our destination was only the next village but with the difficult weather we decided to catch the bus. Fortunately the main road followed the Camino route and we were able to find a bus stop quite easily.

It was a bit of a comedy when the bus arrived because we told the driver our destination was Villadangos when in fact our accommodation was 2 km before the village in a new largely industrial  neighbourhood. We rushed to alight when we spotted it, over the protest of the driver who was yelling to us that it was not our stop.

Our hostal was basic, located above a bar with little around just a petrol station next door and another pub 500m away. We had gone from the 3-star Hotel Paris in Leon to a truckstop! Still, it was clean, had good hot water and free wifi to the room, a friendly bar tender and a pretty stamp for our credentials. All we ever needed as pilgrims..

Leon (Sep 24, Day 25)

A cold and windy morning in Leon and our clean and unused warm clothings were out for the first time for weeks.

Leon was a pretty city in the bright crispy morning with its wide streets and pavements. We spent some time at the main Cathedral, a massive gothic structure that invites comparison with one in Charters in France and of course the rival city Burgos.  We could see why some purists think that Leon's was more of a place of worship while Bugos' was more a museum.

We walked several blocks to the Paradors hotel made famous by the comment of Jack of Ireland in the movie "The Way", that no self respecting pilgrim would stay in it. We didn't but we did have a capuccino each and shared a serving of ice cream. A lovely hotel created out of an old monastery that could inspire the comment: why was a monastery so grand?

Burgo Raneros to Mansila de las Mulas then Leon (Sep 23, Day 24)

We left Burgo Raneros in the morning under an heavily overcast sky and gusty winds. After our complaints over the past weeks about tbe heat we could only be thankful about the change in the weather; indeed the cool air and good walking surface allowed us to make good progress. We were still at the meseta but the landscape we were passing through had changed, with more trees and undulating fields.

Rain at last.

There also seemed to be better facilities with rest areas every few kilometres complete with large skips for the rubbish not seen in provinces earlier. These may in the long term reduce the littering problem that spoils the route so much. There was still no public toilets around even in villages (we were totally dependent on pubs) and bushes out in the open fields invariably show evidence of previous visits!

Soon the wind became gustier and horizontal rain started to come down but luckily we were only a few hundred metres from our first rest stop of the day, having done more than 13 km.

After our rest we did another 6 km to Mansila. Our reputable English guide by John Brierley suggested that we should take a bus from Mansila to the major city of Leon without losing too much. As K said, we did not have to be told twice to skip a small uninteresting section (given the distance we had to cover in total). We headed for the autobus station only to find that being Sunday the next bus for Leon won't be due for another 5 hours.

We could stay at the cafeteria and watch the Singapore GP (yes, it was on live at the cafe too) but we were tired and a decision was quickly made to get into Leon by taxi. Twenty euros for the last 18km was a bargain.

Sahagun to El Burgo Ranero (Sep 22 day 23)

Five kilometres out of Sahagun the Camino offered two alternatives, one through a village to an old Roman road that was uneven and exposed to the elements, the other a shorter and on tree-lined "senda" (compacted sandy earth), which was easier to walk on. We took the easier route, as did most pilgrims, but someone, a villager perhaps, must have been dissatisfied with losing business from pilgrims taking the more comfortable path, had the signs defaced, diverting pilgrims to the village (and the tougher route) unless they were particularly careful in reading the maps. We stopped with a group of others and there was a lengthy pause but we eventually found our preferred way.

A cool breeze was  blowing and the line of trees on the southern side provided good shade; the day was perfect for walking. We made good time and we were were still glad to arrive at El Burgo Ranero because we were hungry (as we always were after a few hours walk). Already from the distance we had spotted a cafe bar because of the telltale red Coca Cola sign, the brand that dominated the Spanish soft drink market. Into the cafe bar we were met by the bar tender totally engrossed on the large flat screen TV - showing a live telecast of the Singapore Grand Prix. We sat down for a simple lunch, entertained by cars racing amidst the familiar Singapore skyline!

Carrion to Sahagun (Sep 21 Day 22)

We found out that the bus for Sahagun leaves at midday, which gave us a bit of time to roam around the town. I finally found a tobacconist to recharge my prepaid phone account, and later discovered that the post office did it as well. The post office provides a valuable service in sending extra items that could not be carried to an address or even a post office the final destination. Of course finding one that was not shut for siesta remained the perennial challenge.

The journey to Leon took an hour for the 40km journey in a nondirect route through towns  not on tbe Camino route. With that mechanical propulsion today we were now only a few km short of our halfway point to the final destination of Santiago de Compostela.

Our bus left us at the first hotel in Sahagun, that happened to be the town's finest but that was not where we were staying. Instead, we had to walk into the town and spent some time trying to locate ours through a rather inaccurate guidebook map. We eventually did find it, a small hostal with very comfortable room right on the Camino route.

While nearly all towns and villages we passed through were dominated by one or more churches, always visible for kilometres around and nearly all visibly restored, Sahagun seemed to be dominated by the ruins of one that fell apart through tbe tribulations of war and lack of religious interests. This last point was a surprise to us given the ever presence of the Catholic church. Indeed we have not observed much religious preoccupations by the peregrinos on the trip so far even though it is nominally a pilgrimage. About half the participants were not Spanish, and most seemed more concerned with clocking up their 30+ km a day than to waste time on sceneries let alone the inside of churches.

As most villages and towns we passed had been impressively clean and tidy, the less tidy ones stood out - like Sahagun. The town square where we had dinner al fresco was alive with noisy children but the atmosphere was more degraded by the unswept kerbs and footpaths. My BBQ sepia (cuttlefish) was good but K steak was tough.

Carrion - what a name (Sep 20, Day 21)

After all the stuff we read about the meseta, we have been wondering when we would encounter the endless flat terrain after nearly a month of hills and valleys. We finally hit it on the straight stretch from Fromista to Carrion. The path ran parrallel to the motor road, the land flat and treeless on both sides, merciless in the piecing sun, the clouds having deserted us once again.

Along the 18 km route there were only a couple of small villages, the first of which had a bar with an open door but they refused to serve us any coffee even though it was already nearly 9am. At the second stop, an albergue had a good informal cafe that served food. When we mentioned about the previous village, the lady kindly told us that she was working for 9 months a year and would take 3 months off each year. So, we need to understand!  With our cultural bias, we could not help but wonder what Angela Merkel thought of that comfortable lifestyle.

Carrion (where did they get that name? Rob asked) was a sizeable town with a busy town square, lots of tourists and pilgrims, but we had trouble finding somewhere to recharge my prepaid mobile phone, the one with the Spanish SIM card. Everywhere I inquired I was directed to the one shop that had trouble getting their computer to connect to the provider.

We located a supermercado (supermarket) where we stocked up with some food for the long walk the next day, only to find that we could not be assured of any accommodaton at the next destination, a very small place with limited places some 18km away. If we were to take the risk and proceed regardlessly, we could be faced with another 5km to the next town/village, an undertaking we are still unprepared to take, given the ongoing hot spell. A bus ride to the town beyond was the only solution.

Fromista (Sep 19, Day 20)

We enjoyed a sleep in at the hostal of Itero and did not leave till well past 8 in the morning.  Our first stop was 8km away at Boadilla where once again it was a question of knowing where things were.  Luckily we ran into the Danish people whom we met the previous night and they introduced us to a cafe they just came out of, one attached to an albergue several metres from the main Camino route, one without any signage to its existence.   The guy in charge of the cafe was friendly, spoke good English and best of all the ham and eggs was supreme.It was one of those well kept secrets of Spanish villages.

The route to the next day stop Fromista was made more attractive by the shade of a line of trees and the old canal that followed it on the other side most of the way. The canal system was being restored for recreation and irrigation purposes and at the entrance to Fromista there was a series of locks that allowed navigation upstream. In fact most of the surrounding land was several metres below the canal water level.

The attraction of Fromista was a Romanesque church. Hope to post it when the internet services allow!

Romanesque church at Fromista.

Itero de la Vega (Sep 18, Day 19)

We left Hontanas before sunrise guided by the light of a torch once more until there was enough light in the sky. We had to climb tbe gradual slope out of the depression that Hontanas was in (pun not intended) in darkness but it was bright well before we got to the ruins of San Anton, the next village.  The heavy cloud cover made it a warm in the morning and also mild for most of the day. 

We were looking forward to Castrojeriz (probably pronounced "Castro - her ith" ?) because we needed an ATM to replenish our cash and the usual proper cup of coffee that albergues often did not provide. When we came to a crowded bar at the entrance to the town we pushed on knowing that the town centre was another one km further.  To our frustration, we found ourselves at the other end of town without  finding any real life. We later discovered that most of the shops were on another street and no one had bothered to put up any signs to attract customers. No wonder a guidebook described the town as being in perpetual siesta. 

We had morning tea by the side of the road and skipped lunch, tackled the Alto, a rare steep hill on the plateau, like a pimple on the flat land. Right at the top was a 360 deg view of the meseta and there was - yes nothing, apart a shelter generously defaced with wise cracks by peregrinos. In most places around the world there would be a kiosk serving food and coffee but of course this was Spain!

Walking towards Castrojeriz.

The 18% slope desent was steeper than the ascent and we watched with some concern as cyclists did it with courage and perhaps not much brains. Down at the bottom, we it were back on the meseta proper, a mosaic of grain fields all in harvested shades of golden yellow and brown broken by patcbes of black where dried sunflowers stood perhaps awaiting harvesting.

The sun had reappeared from behind the clouds and the 4 km to the shade of the next tree from the hill was arduous. When we came to it, there were a couple of locals behind a stall with some fruits on display and a thermos flask that contained coffee that K was desperately seeking. How much for the coffee? Just a donation. We admired their entreprise but it had not got to the profit motive stage. On the other hand, it might just be a way of evading stringent EU regulations. If only we had the Spanish to find out more.

The day's destination was Itero del Vega but just before it we passed by the albergue of St Nicolas a serious refugio with only 12 places for the hardcore that many had talked about. It had the long history of monks providing medical and other care to pilgrims on the Camino. Today the refugio retains the simplicity of the olden days by the absence of electricity as the place is lit only by candlelight.  We wondered what the monks thought of the young ladies in bras and knickers having a wash publicly outside the small building!  Not wanting to do without electricity, we pushed on another 1 km to Itero and stayed in a place where I could have my mobile phone recharged.

St Nicolas outside Itero.

Rabe to Hontanas (the place to avoid?) (Sep 17, Day 18)

From outside Burgos we should be going onto the meseta, the flat plateau that stretches to beyond Leon over a distance of more than 200km. But there were a few low hills to go over on leaving Rabe, practically treeless hills with stony paths. There was a small village stop and an even smaller albergue stop (San Bol, where there was nothing else apart from the one building and a row of trees, for those desparately enough to need one).  Eventually we found our way to Hontanas. The village roused our curiosity because an Aussie couple we met earlier on told us that it should be avoided. Interestingly while most old villages seeme to sit on a hill, Hontanas sat in a valley depression. It entirely depended on pilgrim business to survive.

Come to think of it, the same point 3 can be said about many small villages we passed through. Many had houses in ruins because until recently they were abandoned and were enjoying a revival from the pilgrimage industry.

Nonetheless, the albergue we stayed in was well run and provided the most value for money room and dinner that we had come across so far. Over dinner, we were also thoughtfully placed with another English speaking couple, a brother and sister from Ireland.

Hontanas, to be recommended we think !

Burgos rest day (Sep 15, Day 16)

We had not previously thougbt too much about Burgos apart from the possibility of having our backpack snatched by a kid as in the movie "The Way". The first impression of the city as we got off the bus was immediately favourable. The streets were neat, wide and the tree-limed wide pedestrian mall along the river most inviting. The lanes in the old town linked a series of plazas where in the after-siesta hours the residents gathered in large numbers. No better city to spend an extra day for rest.

The massive cathedral of Burgos magnificient from the outisde was also a beautifully maintained museum of the royal and religious powers in the history of the city. It was more a museum than a place of worsbip that led some to comment rather disparagingly. To us with limited interests in its religious or historical significance, it was simply most pleasing to the eye inside and outside.

While there were no backpack snatchers we did run into an ATM glitch when our  cash withdrawal trasaction went through but no cash appeared. We  had to make a couple of calls and were promised that our account would be corrected in a few days, our fingers were crossed.

Our day at Burgos was a Saturday and it was good that siesta was not so strictly adhered to by people who were NOT working. The shops stayed open for them and us, and the plazas were full of life. We enjoyed a good al fresco lunch of pasta (grab it while we could, as every small town bar has nothing much beyond basic Castillian cuisime of spanish ham, tortilla and bread).

We stocked up on medical supplies, caught up on the internet and then enjoyed the luxury of our four-star hotel !

Rabe, a¨"quiet" small town (Sep 17, Day 18)

At Burgos we failed to find any medical centre that was willing to open on a saturday to take another look at K´s blisters but fortunately they looked well enough in our non-expert eyes and we felt confident to push on early on Sunday morning before first light. (I´m sure the hospital is open but after the previous experience at Logrono we decided to give it a miss and depend on the private ones).

Underutilised freeway?

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We found our way out of  Burgos passed the university of Burgos but there was no sign of the city gate that was included in the Emilio Estavez movie {"The Way"}. The route led us in a circuitous path around a new freeway system, one that was so new that there were virtually no cars on it. Sign post distances were again questionable but we eventually reached the morning  coffee stop at Tarhajos.

We chose to stay the night at an albergue in the tiny village of Rabe expecting to be practically the only ones there especially when it was only 13 km from Burgos and we arrived there before lunch but we were in for a surprise - there was a queue outzide. The albergue was managed by an efficient manageress who seemed to be the owner.  We ended up in a communal room of six persons, one of whom coughing vigorously much to our concern.

Rabe was not so quiet. We were lucky or unlucky to be there for their one-day-of-the-year festival. At lunch time the local dancing guild performed traditional Spanish dancers in costumes in the village square, right outside the albergue. Later singers performed more modern songs on stage. With the large speakers right outside our window, I was lucky to have brought along ear plugs and enjoyed a good night's sleep. Still it was good to be in the right place at the right time.

Street dancing at Rabe.

As usual, the village pub did not serve hot food even though there was a large post-church crowd and a special vintage car show (3 cars including a Cardillac), but it was good to be able to meet up with other pilgrims when we were just having coffee. There was an interesting Canadian man from Quebec and later, surprise surprise, we found an Aussie couple from Canberra working for the foreign service in Madrid.

Ages to Burgos (Sep 14)

A major plus of staying in an albergue is that it brings us into the company of a community of shared interests. In the afternoon of arrival we met up with a Spanish couple from Barcelona and we were able to listen totheir comments on the recent demomstration in their city for thr independence of Catalonia. At dinner time K had fun using her French with a couple from the French Basque country.

The albergue at Ages (pronounced "Arg As" ,we wete told ) confirmed the advcie given to us that we should avoid the  breakfast offered in such places. We were the last to turn up because I slept in till 730 and though it was still within the designated bours, there was only cold coffee, no butter and only one small sachet of jam left - all for 3 euros for each of us. Worse, there was no one there to complain, for it seemed the private owner simply set up the self service breakfast early in the morning and left. Most of the pilgrims got up very early to start a long walking day.  Fortumately for us, the next village of Atapuerta was less than 2 km away and it had a shop serving proper food.

What Kay thinks of the albergue at Ages.

Beyond Atapuerta we climbed a rocky hill at the top of which we could see the city of  Burgos to the west.   But it was so near yet  so far, for the route soon veered south when we descendsd the hill and had to walk through 3 small villages none of which showed much life apart the last that had a pub. Our friend Sue L once said that Sydney was dead (compared to London), well she aint' seen nothing.

After a short lunch break, we followed the route past the boundary fence of Burgos airport to the outermost Burgos suburb of Villefria. We did not think that the 7 km along a main trunk road not unlike Sydney´s Parramatta Road was quite spiritual, so we took the bus to the centre of Burgos.  Not surprisingly, there were more than half a dozen other pilgrims in the bus with us.

Ages (Sep 13)

By the time we got to Villafranca, we were starting to look forward to Burgos one of the four large cities on our route, but we had another ridge to cross that according to the maps, was made up of a series of three forested hills. Leaving the the very comfortable Villafranca hotel, the Camino was literary on its back door and from there it was straight up the hill. It was a steep climb but the weather has mercifully turned cool and the sky heavily overcast.

It was interesting that we had entered for the first time a totally natural environment, a forest of oak trees and later pine plantation.  For someone who had never seen more than two oak trees side by side, a whole forest of it was a treat.

Oak forest after Villafranca.

It took an hour to reach the top of the first hil where there was a memorial to a massacre that happened there during the 1936 Civil War in Spain. It was a sad reminder to Spain´s traumatic past.

The second hill was less pronounced, the third practically non existent. We walked into the small hamlet village of St Juan in light rain, grateful to find shelter in the one and only pub even though the less than enterprising owner only served coffee, beer and biscuits. We wondered why he was not more entreprising, notwithstanding there was nothing in the 12 km from Villafranca and every single pilgrim had to pass through it!

To save our legs we had arranged for part of our luggage to be transport to St Juan, but since we felt rather energetic, we picked up the load and walked on to the next town.  Beyond St Juan, the forests made way to open fields again all the way to the village of Ages.

There were a number of places for pilgrims at Ages, we randomly chose one and shared in a 8-bed room. It was rather crowded but the facilities were satisfactory and we enjoyed the hot shower. 

Villafranca (Sep 11 and 12)

Today's experience was a good lesson about planning and the necessity to stick to it. Leaving Redecilla we had 25 km ahead of us before hitting higher grounds where there were several hills to cross. Not being young seasoned walkers we planned to break that up into two days with a stop at the interesting town of Belorado being most logical .


However as we started very early and we arrived at Belorado around 10am.  After a coffee break at the entrance of the town, we succombed to the temptation of walking to the next village Tosantos, omly to find that the weather had become uncomrtably hot especially for K and also on arriving that the only accommodation was one that provided 30 mattresses on the floor.  A true pilgrim would not have minded, and we wouldn´t either if we had planned for it, but it was somewhat a disappointment. The next two villages were tiny as well, so at that point K chose to bus to the next big town Villafranca still 7 km away, while I walked on.  The day was hot but the scenery of gentle rolling hills of dry largely scrub land was beautiful.

View from our accommodation at Villafranca.

It was not a satisfactory situation especially when K was also nursing a couple of blisters, so we decided to take a rest day at Villafranca, especially when the hotel albergue we were at was very comfortable. We were glad that they had a room at the albergue for us for two nights.

We used the free day to bus back to Belorado, the interesting town that we shot past the day before; the bus ride took a grand total of just 15minutes.  K took the opportunity to visit the local medical centre and was relieved that the nurse there was satisfied with the condition of the blisters..

Most interestingly, the owner of the hotel was a retired doctor and he had taken it upon himself to take care of passing pilgrims in strife, having done the Camino himself! In fact he insisted of looking at K´s blisters and pronounced it quite satisfactory from his medical viewpoint.

Ciruena to Redecilla (Sep 10) Day 11

We left at daybreak again, and soon after the next small hill we could see the next town, Santo Domingo, famous for its cathedral with two chickens!  The legend is too long to be repeated here but it was interesting to see that it is kept alive with two live roosters in a special glassed in cage within the church. Apart from that, the story of Santo Domingo, as someone from way back who helped pilgrims by building a bridge to save some walking, and whose remains are in the church, made the place an attraction.

The cloudy sky was an early relief but the clouds soon gave way to more heat as we walked through bare hills and crossed the border into Castillo y Leon. We had enough when we arrived at the first village into the new region, Redecilla, and stayed at a new place, another Casa Rurale, a place so new that it was not even in the guidebooks. It should do well as it served meals at seemingly all hours.  We were given an attic room, this one had a sky light was gave us a direct view of the church bell tower, a pretty aspect except that the church chose to keep the hourly bell chimes right through the day and NIGHT!

Country near Redecilla.

Najera to Ciruena (9 to 10 Sep)

At Najera, we inadvertenly picked a Jewish owned albergue to stay on a saturday, their Sabbath!  At least I think it was Jewish owned because of the Star of David on its stamp on our pilgrims credentials and the restaurant assciated with it was closed that evening. It also meant that there was no one around at the albergue when we wanted to seek advice on the huge blister that had developed on K's foot, at a time when all the town's pharmacists were also shut.  Luckily we had read up before we left and so we followed our limited knowledge and perhaps intuitions!

Najera is situated on a narrow strip of land bounded by a river and a hill with a rocky surface that reminded me of  Castle Hill in Townsville. The town square was all set up with a stage and soon it became obvious that a festival was on. When the music started around 9pm we could not resist going back to the square to join the crowd. The celebrations started half an hour later and over the next hour there was an elaborate introduction of the celebrities getting on to the stage including the MC, a festival queen of some sort and a male high achiever from the previous year, as well as the corresponding winners for the current year. Each had to be given a fanfare by the band, then a long introduction, escorted onto the stage by a member of the opposite sex, given a couple of kisses and receive flowers from two young children, and more kisses.  The crowd obviously enjoyed it. Like quite a few others, we left when the male VIP started to speak, fun was over.

Again we left at first light after breakfast the next day. The vineyards soon gave way to bare harvested wheatland as we got higher. The day got hotter and became  most uncomfortable for us, especially with the constant climb uphill. It was a relief when we finally got to the top around midday, to be met by a sight we only read about, a deserted golf course and seemingly dead suburb of new houses - the debris of the building bubble crash of recent years.  It was the new suburb of the village of Ciruena, that had street after street of terrace houses and apartments, all new and mostly empty and many had "se vende" (for sale) signs.  We went closer into the village's old centre of much older houses and found where there was life  - the pub where people had gathered after church, for it was a Sunday.

We chose to stay at a place across the road from the pub and the local church, called Casa Victoria, our first experience of a casa rurale. It that turned out that a casa rurale was just like a B and B, and Casa Victoria was run efficiently by a friendly couple. The biggest surprise was that the house was renovated from a very old building and the attic room had been renovated to include an ensuite but retained the original exposed natural tree trunks rafters, similar to those we saw in England.

Kay´s sore shin - Spanish health service.

Some of you have read this directly from Kay. An editted version here --

Tuesday (Sep 5) was very long, 22km, but we made it to Los Arcos.  Wednesday was almost as long - 18km.  We decided to head for Viana rather than Logrono.  About 3km from town, my left foot began to hurt very badly.  Or rather the front of left shin, what I later found out was the anteriaor tibial muscle and its associated tendon.  It was painful - for once, I much preferred going uphill to get some relief, but downhill was painful.  I found that if I walked faster, it was better.  All sorts of visions about stress fractures, abandoning this walk etc played on my mind.  The Camino blues again!  We stayed in Viana as planned, and found there was no doctor there.  So on Thursday I took a taxi to Logrono while KM completed the 9 kms on foot. 

Then we went to the Rohoja General Hospital, just across from our (proper this time) hotel.  I got blank looks - no interpreters here and no guarantee of seeing a doctor.  I was told that Australians pay 128 euros.  Pulled out my cardo credito, and cash, but heads were shaken.  Using google translate, I was told I had to go to a bank, deposit 128 eruos and then be seen.  Or I could go to a clinic in Navarette and be seen after 3pm.  This was 20+ kms away!  I grabbed back my passport and went to the hotel who told us about a private hospital, so we took a taxi there.  After more blank looks from the receptionist, we were rescued by someone who could speak enough english to take us down to emeergency, and who looked after us.  We saw a lovely doctor, who apologised for his rusty english (to us, it was perfecto!).He poked and prodded at my foot, pronounced nothing serious wrong, did not even meet spanish guidelines for an Xray, keep walking, use iboprofen and ice, and no, my pack was not too heavy so I don´t even have an excuse for using a backpack taxi.  And the cost was less - 120 euros.

On to Najera (Day 9, Sat Sep 8 )

We had established a routine for our walk to manage the current hot spell.  We were up by 5.30am, had a quick breakfast, often at a place we knew was open for business early (not many), and started walking in the dark. Less than an hour after sunrise we would reach the next village where there would be a pub or kiosk that we could have coffee and morning tea.  Then we would walk on and should finish for the day before lunch.  Either before or after lunch, we would check in at our accommodation for the night and catch a nap. By the time we had waken up at around 4 or 5pm, the shops would be reopening for the day. Sometimes we could even fit in a walk around the village or even visit a museum.  Then it will be dinner and straight to bed after that !

We left Navarette at 6.30am and were at the village of Ventosa by around 8.30 am.  There were few pilgrims around when we left Navarette, but at Ventosa and soon after many caught up, including our three American friends whom we kept meeting, a chatty Englishman from Lancashire and some Aussies as well.

It was one vineyard after another all the way to Najera, a large town with some industries on the outskirts. Our accommodation is just next to the famous monastery, which we visited when it opened at 4pm.

We had still not adjusted well to the local eating culture. We tend to have pinchos (tapas) for lunch, and then found we were hungry again by 5 or 6pm when the restaurants were still not open; most would not be open till well after 7pm, some ven 9pm.. We should follow the advice we previously received, which was to have a large meal at lunch time, and pinchos, available all the time, in the evening.

More photos uploaded.

https://picasaweb.google.com/kinmun.kan/Camino

Avoiding the heat - Navaretta

The weather forecast promised us a horrible few days ahead of temperatures in mid to high 30s.  It called for a new strategy - we had to start even earlier in the morning and shorten our walks to avoid being scalded.

Fortunately the English speaking doctor who saw K (and finding him is another story) was encouraging. Take pain killers and walk on, he advised.

In Logrono the day before we bought some lovely pastries for breakfast. We were up by 5.30am and on the road by 6.30, still in darkness. Logrono is a small but sprawling city and as we were staying at its northern end, we had to traverse the width of the city just to get out of town. The Camino signs were not very obvious, partly because of the dim lights and partly from competing signages. Occasionally, the locals were helpful in pointing to us the yellow arrow sign. 

Out of the city, we reached the town's reservoir in an hour and a half,  where we were thankful that there was a kiosk cafe serving food including coffee.

Beyond that stop, the countryside was largely uninterrupted vineyards, a reminder that wine is the main business of the La Rioja province. Also, we had left behind Navarra, and with that much of the Basque separatist grafitis. We reached Navarette, our destination of the day, before lunch. Navarette appeared initially as another small town on a hill but most of the town was in fact hidden, on the other side.

Walking towards Navarette.

Farmer kindly gave us pears that he specially picked for us from his tree.

Navarette - glad to be in the shade.

Solo walk in darkness to Logrono (Sep 6 Thurs)

K´s sore shin had meant that she could not risk aggravating the problem before seeking medical attention. She decided to take a taxi ride to the next town of Logrono, which happened to be a sizeable one.

In the morning I started off early so as to be in Logrono to help K with my lack of Spanish, (in whatever ways, that is).  The bakery next to our Casa was open by 6am, so we called in and bought some croissants and fruit juice, and I was off soon by 6.30am while it was still dark. I had only taken a few steps when I realised I did not know where I was to proceed, so started looking for the Camino sign. It was difficult in the deep street lights, but fortunately, an early lady walker appeared and I decided to follow for she seemed to know where she was going, rather than spend precious time looking for my torch in my backpack. A few steps out of town and it was pitch darkness. How thoughtless I was not to be prepared for this.

The lady I was following was a swift walker so before long she was several hundred metres ahead. Fortunately for me, not only was she well prepared with a torch, but also considerate enough to keep flashing it and even in my direction so that I always knew where to proceed. The bright half moon helped but I was never in great danger of being lost because the lights of Logrono some 9km away was always visible from Viana in the dark. I guessed in the worst scenario, I could make my way to the main road several hundred metres away and follow it.

Before long the sun had arisen, a beautiful deep red glow in the dusty country air. There were times when I thought I had stepped away from the route, but a few walkers overtook me and I knew I was right. I caught up with a Japanese lady who walked steadily but I was able to learn that she had recently retired. I moved on but ran into her again later in Logrono. In about an hour I had reached the boundary between Navarra and La Rioja, and soon after I reached the bridge that leads to Logrono city. Surprise, surprise, I was outside the general hospital, where I was to meet K, in less than 2 hours and K had not even found her taxi back at Viana. Another problem with the Spanish distances, perhaps.

After K arrived, we spent more than an hour sorting out the medical issues, then went down to the town centre for a look around and some food. It is good to be in a proper town for a change, where most shops stay open and we could watch those residents who unfortunately have to go to work !

Los Arcos to Viana (Wed Sep 5)

Breakfast at Los Arcos was as basic as the room. The common eating area had several long tables and in the middle of each was a tray of a selection of solid sliced bread, jars of jams and sachets of butter.  No one went hungry.

The next town of Sansol was only a short distance away once again on a hilltop, but it was an obligatory stop since we were craving for proper coffee. Only another kilometre away, steeply down a slope, over a bridge and narrow river, and up again a steep walking track was Torres del Rio. This next village was in a losing attempt to compete for business no doubt because few could wait for the pointless descent and then ascent for the coffee there regardless of the reputation of the barista. Perhaps some required another cup of coffee but the bar was deserted.

Nothing else was life supporting beyond that village until Viana, a distance of 18 km from Los Arcos where we started. On the guidebooks, it was an easy flat terrain, but it must be a Spanish approximation because there were a few steep climbs and descents; the hike was made ever more uncomfortable as the sun shone instead of cloudiness as forecast.  (Spanish weather forecast can be as questionable as ours, oops Deryn, sorry, I think yours are much better).

Towards the last 5 km or so, K began to experience great discomfort somewhere on her shin.  That put a whole new dimension to the challenges before us.  What are we to do?  We struggled into Viana, the last town of the province of Navarra and found the casa we booked, with the help of my phone GPS! We had a basic room overlooking the casa mayor (the main street) that came with shower facilities but communal toilets,   The room was right above the hotel bar and we could hear every word of the Spanish chitchats below, but not understand any.  Luckily the room came with double glazed windows that cut out the noise.  In this autumnal heat, that must be the only reason for the double glazing.

We have learnt that the Spaniards are helpful and like taking to us. Out of politeless we usually listen attentively, which they mistook to be serious comprehension while all the time we were struggling to pick up individual words that we could possibly understand.  They have not learnt the art of single word summaries that the Singaporeans and other SE Asians practice.  Like my sister BL's domestic help who seriously advised K that ´one week come back cannot, have courage´.

It was no wonder that we found special connections with English speakers, including the three friendly Yanks whom we came across several times in some small towns and some bigger ones. 

Estella to Los Arcos (Sep 4th)

We were not sure about the destination for the day because the closer town of Villatuerta was quite a short walking distance away while the next at Los Arcos was a good 20+ km hike.

Just in case we have a long day, we started at 7am while it was still dark, stopping for coffee and toast at a bakery in town. The ascent after leaving Estella was rather steeper climb than we expected, but we soon forgot about the pain on arriving at the small village of Irache, for it was famous for its wine fountain generously maintained by the Bodegas winery. A small crowd of pilgrims had already gathered around it when we arrived, some filling up their drinking bottle with red wine, a somewhat doubtful thirst quencher.

Wine on the tap.

The day was good for walking because of cloudy skies and cool breeze and before we knew it we were at Villaturta at an embarrassingly early hour of 10.30am.  With the prospect of having to spend the rest of the day in this hilltop village of a dozen houses, we decided to push on.  As it turned out it wasn´t that difficult and we reached Los Arcos before 4pm, and checked into the first albergue that we came to at the edge of this small town, one with Austrian connections, run by young volunteers including some English speakers. The furnishing of place was very basic, but they managed to fit in a double bed in the room that we booked (only rooms can be booked, while dormitory beds are on first come first served basis). Conveniently for us, there was a balcony where we could hang out our washings.

It seemed that the pilgrims serve this village well for shops and restaurants around the town square a hundred metres away were open even outside of the normal siesta hour. A win-win situation for all.

Some photos

Some photos uploaded, click on the link below.


https://picasaweb.google.com/kinmun.kan/Camino

Morning mist over Pamplona.

Bridge at Puente la Reina.

And on from Puente La Reina, through Lorca to Estella (Sep 3)

The walk on leaving Puente La Reina was supposed to be a relatively easy one, but we did not count on the clear skies and treeless terrain that made the 22C felt like 32C.  The uphill stretch from Puente La Reina was taxing even though it took less than an hour to a tidy (they always are) village of Maneru. The next village Cirauqui a few kilometres beyond was very pretty sitting on top of a hill (pretty villages are such an encouragement for us to do the climb). In between were vineyards (yummy grapes) and other cultivations. Being sunday, nothing was open at Cirauqui but thankfully a little shop at the entrance to the village sold fresh bread, packaged ham, and lovely icecream.  Then another trek in the heat to our destination for the night at Lorca, a small village made alive by two albergues and nothing else.  We had thoughtfully booked a room the day before and were given one right on top of the four-storey restored old building, requiring one last climb which we did not need.

Logistic planning is a challenge. We have to space our walks to make sure we get to see villages and towns that we want to see, and yet avoid long stretches or unnecessarily short ones. We decided on a short day today, a rest day with a short walk of just 9km to Estella, but we soon learned that the signpost distances in Spain are not always what we interpreted them to be. One saying 1.5km took us nearly an hour to negotiate, probably because it was only showing distance to the town boundary.

Estella is a pretty town according to the guidebooks - pretty what, K asked. Pretty small, pretty dead
between noon and 4pm, the siesta hour quite stringently obeyed. But pretty as well we found as we wandered through the deserted narrow streets. The tourist office was open, but unfortunately being Monday many museums were shut.  Nonetheless we found this internet cafe, called locutoria for some reasons and were able to catch up with some news..


Today has been much easier with the cooler weather and cloudy skies but we hope the expected wet weather tomorrow will not be too problematic.

Notes from Kay (Sep 2nd)

Some of you will have already read K´s notes, so may wish to skip this  - - - 

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Today (Sunday 2nd, Fathers day) was our third walking day, so we are beginning to get beyond being Camino virgins - just!

We have stayed in two refugios/albergues (the first run by the church, the second private - I think), but all are dormitory/ communal rooms with shared bathroom etc.  The first one was the only show in town, with no shops restaurants etc anywhere, so dinner was provided by the albergue and we got to meet all 16 people staying there.  it was a lovely introduction to the people on the walk.  last night was larger, but there were more options in town so there was not the communal feel, but you still did get to meet people.  Tonight we are in a hotel!  we have some privacy and a proper towel instead of our super-light super-absorbent one.

We have met some interesting people - Catherine from ireland who has been to Australia, and gave me a lesson in how to put on my backpack, jeff from the US who worked on the fishing boats in Alaska to pay for his university studies (no HECS there), helena and pasqual from france,  The danish man so we could talk about "our Mary", the fellow who asked us to buy him a cider (that was his hydration along the walk) and there were more.  I must say that people are frinedly, ready to chat, and so far in the albergues, everyone has been very considerate.

Today was tough - the third day with a full backpack is catching up, and it was hot with little vegetation and some steep uphill parts.   However tomorrow is another day, and will be a short day into Estella, and there is always a taxi if it gets too bad.  it was when I was thinking that this walk can be torture as well as pleasure.

I was apprehensive before beginning, but have found my fears allayed with the experience of walking.  However am still settling into the rhythm of it all.  >we go to bed early and get up early - 5.30-6am  then look for breakfast somewhere.  it is amazingly quick when you sleep in the next days clothes!

Although I must say standards are dropping fast - we wash when we can, and have had to wear clothes 2 days in a row - I am sure they will need to be burnt when this is all over!  Safety pins make good pegs, and are useful for draping a wet towel or wet socks from the backpack.

KM mentioned language.  My french came in useful today when booking a room.  There is little english, but people are friendly.  We admired a lady´s house in todays tiny village (Lorca) and got a long explanation from her and her neighbour, which was (I think) how she had lived there for a long time, ever since she was a "nina".  It is amazing what you can gather when you don´t understand what is being said.  Just the fact that someone is talking to you has meaning!  If the Spaniards sense that you don´t comprehend, they just keep on talking, and you listen for any word that is comprehensible.

The countryside has been ever changing.  there are lots of blackberries by the road, and a man from Chicago taught me how to pick them (from the top of the bush because animals pee on the lower ones!)  and morning tea today was blackberries and grapes nicked from the the adjoining vineyards (it was just that there were not shops around to get a cup of coffee).  There have been views of cultivation (probably wheat), parts shaded by overhanging trees, steep downhill with loose rocks, which I find very tricky.  Downhill is tough on the joints, while uphill works the cardiovascular system.

We had a pilgrim meal tongiht - pasta and tomato sauce, fried chicken and chips and an icecream for 9.90 euros each - and after today´s efforts, it tasted fantastic!  And it came with a carafe of water and another carafe of red wine.  The coffee has also been good, but we discovered that cappacunio is coffee plus chocolate plus milk.  Best to stick to cafe con leche - espresso coffee with milk.

Zariquiegui to Puente La Reina (Sep 1st)

The albergue became a hive of activities before sunrise. Breakfast was simple and as soon as we were packed we continued our trek up the slope, the peak just over 2 km away.  The whoosh of wind turbines became louder as we approached the top and the famous steel statues dedicated to pilgrims over the ages came into view. As the sun rose from behind the ridge, we had a breathtaking view of the valley below and Pamplona not that far away.

After the obligatory photos, we began our descent, which was more challenging than the climb. The loose gravel and steep gradient slowed us down but soon the path became more manageable. The undulating plains of harvested wheatfields, vineyards and market gardens provided a constantly changing landscape. We kept telling ourselves that we would not be enjoying the views if we were hurrying through it by driving.  We stopped at a small village of Uterga for coffee and continued on to Puerta la Reina for the next stop. It was another easy day, but this second day we did a respectable 13 km !

Language continues to be a challenge; the Spaniards are determined to engage us in long sentences even when we showed no signs of comprehension. Alas, we should have put more effort in learning the language before we left Australia.

Fortunately for us, the weather has been great apart from the first day at Barcelona.  Forecast said that there would be a few more days of good weather.

From Pamplona to Zarigueguie

Nervous about how we would go on the first day that required a steep uphill stretch, we were determined to start going very early but few cafes were open for breakfast at that early hour. We eventually found that there was indeed one that opened at 6am for "peregrinos" (pilgrims) like us, outside a Pamplona albergue. We were there right on time to be their first customer! The special pilgrims breakfast of 2.50 Eur for coffee and toasts was a fantastic deal anywhere, we were rather sad for the poor guy that nobody else was there.

We were off before 7am, as dawn was breaking, following the Camino path signposted by the shell symbol in stainless steel plaques embedded on the footpath.  All was quiet. "Where were all the pilgrims?" we wondered. Soon they appeared in small groups, young ones quickly overtaking us.

We left the Pamplona old town and went through the modern part and then into suburbia, passing the university. Soon we were at the upmarket looking suburb/town of Cizur Menor.  Here the path became unsealed and and the climb began towards the ridge ahead, prominently marked with a row of wind turbines that stretched right across the top.

It being our first day of walking and the path being a steep one, we set ourselves a modest target of 11km to Zariquiegui half way up the ridge.  and before we knew it we were there!  Zariquiegui was a small neat hamlet with a dozen buildings and one small shop where where we bought a simple sandwich lunch and coffee was served by a vending machine.

The alberque had just 16 beds, eight double-bunks in each of the two rooms. The place was neat and tidy, with facilities for dining, lounge and even a small outside area to relax. It was a good introduction to the alberques for us.  As we were the first there, we had a choice and chose a double bunk nearest the window.

There was little to do apart from having a shower, a snooze and a quick look-around, but the view itself was worth the climb, looking back toward Pamplona and the surrounding hills and valleys.

While a number of pilgrims were around when we arrived, they did not stay but continued on. Later in the day walkers started turning up at the albergue and soon the place was full, some having to be turned away. I felt sorry for the four Italians each carrying a large backpack of 15kg (they told me), who had to continue the climb and had another six km to the next available accommodation. Most staying at Zariquiegui had started the day beyond Pamplona; a young American man walked 35km and a Dane happily told us that he had intended to stay at Cizur Menor but was too busy talking and overshot it, ending up having to do another 5km up on the slope.

Dinner was simple but adequate, a soup, salad and fish dish, and hamburger meat for those who did not like fish. It was good to meet up with the other travellers over dinner; we had a good chat with an American woman and her French husband, as well as some English pilgrims.  Then it was bed time; of course everyone was keen to rest for an early start.

Alberque at Zariquequie

Church at Zariquiegue