Saturday 20 September

Next morning packed and head out to meet a woman Dee has befriended. She has been laid up for 2 weeks with knee pain as a result of pushing hard on the Camino. I try to help with advice and bandaging but she will have to go home. Her Camino is finished for this year.

We board a bus for Burgos passing peregrinos on the way. The country is open and the Camino often has long stretches beside the road. It is hot. Some pilgrims board the bus on the way., Many of them are limping. Discretion the better part of valor. We arrive in Burgos at 3 pm, find tourist information and a hotel. Food and a beer. The hot water is always good. Tomorrow is another day as they say.

We head out to be greeted by street theatre everywhere. Saturday and the spanish are up for a party. No sleep tonight. Dinner in the Plaza san Fernando del Rey and then onto a risque Parisian street theatre troop. It's 10pm and all the kids are watching simulated sex, abortion, death and everything in between, with their parents. Completely over the top for the audience but fantastic all the same. We head off to bed at the same time as the toddlers but the party in the street outside goes all night.

Friday 19 September

From Pete

Pack, strap even more than the day before. It is 30km to Logrono and Dee, my achilles is severe pain with each step. Leave by 7am in the dark but not alone as the peregrinos test their aching limbs and sore feet for another day of torture. I pass a famous cemetery that has an inscription over the gate. “ I was what you are. You will be what I am”. I had stopped there quite by accident to take my jacket off and pack it. This wasn't the message I needed. So off in the early grey light and reach Sansol, climbing to it's highest point to see the vies from Iglesia de Santo Sepulchre as recommended. It is very steep on the way down and I had to wonder if the view of Torres del Rio was worth it. Two days later and a half bottle of wine consumed, I concede it probably was. Stop at Torres del Rio to patch new blisters.

Several km pass in an undulating topography with many steep ascents and the inevitable descents. The wine and olive growing region and small copses of trees make the going more interesting and although tired and sore, my achilles feels better or numb, I cannot work out which. Stopping above the olives and vineyards , many other travellers are perched either resting or taking lunch. The litter is appalling so I grab a plastic bag and pick up as much rubbish as I can. Finally I give up, pull out the bread, tomato, cucumber, proscuittto and of course, a bottle of red. Popping the cork I hear a “yank” walking past say, “he's got a bottle of wine”. I pretend not to understand. I carried it, I'm drinking it. 40 minutes later packed and with lunch sitting well I set off on the final leg to Logrono and Dee. Stopping frequently along the way to gorge on wild blackberry and rest my achilles, I cannot help but question why anyone would undertake such a ludicrous journey.

Limping into Viana I stop to take pics of Iglesia Santa Maria (another one!!) with it's Renaissance portal. This proves a bad decision as getting my legs going again proves painfully difficult. 9km to go. Shit.

Finally Logrono appears yet it's industrial appearance is far from appealing and 4-5km of industry later I am in a steep descent to Logrono. An old woman sits outside her house stamping credencials and selling cold drinks. The house next door is marked 1249.

Slowly descending to “old” Logrono the view seems more pleasing. Crossing the Rio Ebro, on the Puente de Piedre the scene could have been from any romantic movie you choose to imagine. I have been looking at my feet for over 5km and for some reason I look up to find Dee there in front of me. I wish I could say there was a romantic encounter on a grand scale, well there was a bit, but to tell you the truth, 30 kms later all I can think about is hot water and cold beer.

I get the hot water, followed by ice for my legs. I brought my own wine and Dee has some left over. It doesn't last long. Somewhat fortified we head out to eat and catch up. Can't tell you the rest.

So far I have walked approx 150kms. Slightly over 1/6th of the Camino. My only advice at this point is if you ever entertain the idea of walking the Camino, travel very light and be prepared for pain.

Thursday 18 September - Pete

From Pete

Tossed and turned all night, probably a combination of dread and anticipation. How strange the human condition that we might actually look forward to pain and the physical challenge. It takes me 45 minutes to pack and strap my ankles. The achilles pain is evident on getting out of bed and at this point I cannot see how it is possible to walk the 23 kms or more that it will require to get me to Los Arcos. The desolate description of the final stage [12 km] is not motivating and leaving Dee at this point just plain makes my heart sink.

Packed and ready to set off at 8am. Final hugs and kisses and out the door with a limp. A km of town hills and streets and my achilles pain has eased a little. I hope I can fill my bottle at the wine fountain at Irache. too bad, there is a large group waiting, I take pics and push on to Azqueta where I stop for breakfast of plums, dates, orange and water. Feeling good so I push hard for Villamayor. Stopping at the church, an older couple sing a hymn in harmony [in Latin I think]. The hair on my neck stands up and tears well in the eyes. It is an unanticipated moment of pure joy in what turns out to be a day of relentless pain. Fill the water bottle and off at a good pace with 12 km to go.


5km out from Los Arcos and my left achilles is refusing to continue. Out with the sticks and literally plod on. This is worse pain than day 1 and there is no where to stop. Reach Los Arcos at 1.30, good time, bad condition, Left ankle swollen and just plain buggered. Get a good deal on a room, limp out for beer and food. Have to wait 3 hours for shops to open so get a nap then limp out for supplies. Back to the room for a basic wine, bread, cheese and tomato dinner. Sleep really well but wake at 5.30am.

Thursday 18 September - Dee

The bus trip was easy and the drop off station had an information booth where I obtained directions to the tourist office and then my hotel room in the heart of the old city portion of Logrono.

I asked at reception about internet and was told there was only one – Cafe Picasso around the corner. I walked and walked and couldn't find anything so went back to the Tourist info to see what they recommended. They circled something on the map and I went searching again but the circle was actually a very large church. Decided to give up and have a beer and some pinchos at the next cafe – and as it turns out was cafe Picasso.

Beer good. Then a little sightseeing but then the deep bath in the hotel room was calling me so I headed back, bathed and found free Wifi in the room. So a little planning and a text to Pete giving him directions on how to find the hotel, which as it turns out were wrong. Hope he finds it okay.

Oh damn. Left Pete with the bottle opener. As it turns out not a problem. Everyone has one behind the counter, so with wine and fruit back up the 5 flights of stairs for a restful evening.

Wednesday 17 September

We are awoken by trucks – lots and lots of them, followed by street cleaning trucks. At 6am the church bells ring and the convey through town begins. Obviously there are bypasses to these smaller towns but these must be locals who wait until 6 before heading off. Perhaps they cant go in any direction from the Calle Mayor in the centre. Every town has a Calle Mayor meaning major street and they are tiny – only wide enough for 1 car.

The street cleaners come up and down the streets everyday with their whirring brushes sucking litter into trucks and sometimes hosing things down as they go, depending on how big the party was the night before. A slow walk through town to a cafe for a double espresso and snack and then onto the sightseeing.

After our visit to the Tourist info we headed for the Convent of Santo Domingo founded in 1259 for a prosperous community of monks and now converted to an old people's home complete with bar and cafe. It is not open to visitors and like many of the buildings looks completely dilapidated on the outside but is probably spectacular inside.

Then onto Santa Maria Jus del Castillo which is in the Jewish quarter. Some pretty gory history here and the church was once a synagogue. It seems that just about all the churches and cathedrals have long histories of being something else along the way with various architectural additions that make them asymmetrical and full of hidden treasures.

Next the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which was begun in the 12 century and finished in the 14 and still needs a little more work. I took a happy snap for a pilgrim but think I got his feet – Pete was busy with our camera so wasn't asked.

Now for the guided tour of the Church of San Pedro de la Rua at 12 noon. No one there ... doors locked. This church has lots of arabic influences but can only show you the outside as no one showed up for the 1pm tour either.

Our last Church for the day is St Michaels, also closed. Hmmm. The smaller towns churches are always open and everyone is welcome. We read all about it and it sounds incredible so once again just exterior pics.

Drinks, food and feet up are next on the agenda.

Estella was built for and because of the Pilgrims Way to Santiago. It is full of churches and artistic landmarks. Pete has photographed most of them in detail. I'm definitely in a happier mood but definitely over the walking for the moment. The towns are so beautiful but the landscape between was under the pitiless sun without the protection of forests ... to quote everyone who walks and writes about it. The next couple of days sound the same, with amazing villages and hostile terrain between so, Pete is walking the next two days and I'm bussing it to Logrono where we'll meet on Friday.

Tuesday 16 September

Dee is woken early (6:3-am) by men singing harmonies on the back of a truck, the sound of the church bells and aching legs. I have had fits of dream filled sleep. Breakfast is buffet and uninteresting. They seem to have the idea that travellers want this rubbish when I know Dee and I really want the pinchos and lashings of dark sweet coffee. The owner is as sullen faced as his staff. I greet him with a 'hola' only to get a snarled smile in response. The comida is dour, where has the animated conversation and broken language communication gone? One last time, avoid the Hotel Bidean , Puente de la Reina. In spite of it's architectural quirkiness and comforts, it has a dour, inhospitable nature. Undaunted Dee and I laugh at the lost opportunity of these idiots. It costs nothing to smile and say hello.





We look forward to the day and what it will deliver us. We set off only to stop 100m down the road where we get coffee and tortilla on a roll. That's more like it. Over the bridge and on for 2-3 km we enter Maneru ,passing through vineyards and olives we find a little gem.

Ciraqui is everything that Punente de la Reina is not. The people are friendly and helpful. The town is a labyrinth around a knoll and means 'Nest of Vipers' but it is a delight.


We stop on the steps of the Iglesia de San Roman and chat in my broken Spanish to 3 senior woman who are delighted to know where we are going and where we have been. Walking up the steps to this 13th century church with it's famous lobed arch, Mudejar portal, we are informed the church is open. Stepping into the gloom it is difficult to see initially but as the eyes adjust the wonders are evident. Again the vaulted ceilings and gilt sculpture everywhere.

An old lady comes through, she is one of those to whom we were speaking and she turns the lights on for us and the splendor that is illuminated is breathtaking.

We drag ourselves away for lunch at the fountain. There is a small celebration in the church which is why everyone in town is dressed in red and white without exception. We pack and leave on a Roman road that is 2000 years old. We pass over the Roman bridge, equally as old and the road continues for 2 km.

The going becomes tougher and tougher and we stop at a small village (name??) with a great little fountain. Wash our heads, faces, drink and walk on. The leg aching more evident, the scenery boring, the heat becomes a factor. Entering Villatuerta we take a wrong turn and have to walk 500-600m along the highway before rejoining the Camino. Dee has aching knees and feet and my left Achilles screams at me to stop.

Frequent water and rest stops ensue. Dee is over it and says she will not, or more appropriately cannot, walk tomorrow. Again the Camino becomes a huge mental and physical challenge where each metre is a victory over body and mind. The conversation has stopped, the antalgic trudge has set in reminiscent of day 1. Looks like it will be 2 lifetimes before Dee forgives me, the look on her face is pure pain and exhaustion. We press on concentrating on each step, over a bridge just short of Estella, I suggest a swim to lighten the mood, not happy Pete. Estella is there, we stamp our credencials and walk on looking for a hotel and the shower, our symbol of completion, of rest, of achievement or at the very least our reward.

I leave Dee in the Cristina Hotel after taking some time to find reception. The room is old and clean, overlooking a main promenade that leads to the town centre. The nocturnal Spanish are coming to life. I'm off in search of a lavanderia (laundry). Some 15 minutes later I find it and leave our stinking clothes. I feel sorry for the owner. Around and around looking for a bottle of wine. Once found and an auxillary Corona to go, I head to Cristina, a shower and feet up. Dee is in a happier mood. We drink and eat and recover.

In our youth we enjoyed various party drugs, now it seems the drug of choice is anti-inflammatory. We still enjoy a good drop (LOL).