May: Week Two
If you click on the picture next to the diary entry, you will go to a page with the pictures of that day. Expect to find some french, Dutch, Spanish and German words thrown around in this diary here and there. If you need me to clarify anything, please mail me at beken_barbara@yahoo.com.
Left Cizur Menor around 7 A.M. as the climb to Alto de Perdon looked heavy. I'm having a horrible time getting going. My muscles and joints ache and I don't seem to be moving very quickly. Damn that wine! I still make good time though until the climb begins. Wow. I've been seeing the windmills since Pamplona but it's something else climbing up to them.
OK, that was hell. Apparantly, the road out of Puenta La Reina is being redone and we were led into some kind of Australian outback that went uphill, all the time. Nearly did me in. I'm resting right now on a bench in Maneru, contemplating the birds.
I arrived in Estella around 8.35 and rested up a bit at the Santo Sepulchro church, which is the first one on entering the town. It's a beautiful Romanesque church with a magnificent portal and very much closed.
Like in every village or town there are swallows everywhere, of course there are a lot of insects also. This is really a country of birds, snails, ants and big bugs. Big scary beetle-bugs. Brrr. Not to mention those horrible grey millipedes. yuck.
After a shower, I visited the beautiful roman cloister where you can see the twisted pillar in the garden. The church attached to it is quite stunning, very calming and peaceful. The absis is perfectly symmetrical and decorated wit a very original pillar made to represent coiled snakes. I joined the small mass and got blessed once again.
I went to the Post Office and again, no mail. Argh! I sent it out more than two weeks in advance!
After 2 hours walking I arrived in Azqueta. It's hard to get going as I expected. The muscles in my right leg hurt a lot specifically in the thigh area. It's getting hot already at 10 A.M. en except a few cyclists; I haven't seen many people on the road.
Ugh, the little monsters on my toes aren't healing. They shouldn't be there; my shoe doesn't even rub against my toes on that place. Every morning they look better and every evening they're like 4 little bubonic plague sores. Argh. Just try to tape up two small toes.
I'm alive! I'M ALIIIVE!
And again, no mail. Boohooohooooo! Well, there might be mail but as I got to the Post Office exactly two minutes after closing time, I'll never know. Considering it's also Sunday tomorrow and I'm not planning to stick around till Monday on the off chance there just might perhaps be a letter. Very frustrating. I don't like cities. They depress me every time I walk into them even though this one is more pleasant than Pamplona, it's just as wet. I only walked about 10km today but I'm tired, wet and cranky so I stop here for today. I slept very badly as expected, the mattress was very bumpy and the idea of an amazing nightly plunge into the depths woke me up every half hour or so. Meaning, I'm a mess who needs a hotel room.
After a seemingly endless walk through the park I finally manage to leave Logroņo. The park was very nice and all but so humongous and filled with early-morning strollers and joggers.
A Dutchman passing me asks worriedly if I'm OK. No, I'm really not having a heart-attack; I always look like this climbing up a steep hill. The heart is not an issue but my knee is loudly protesting. I'm just glad my groin muscle doesn't give a peep. 45 minutes to climb up, not too bad I'd say. It's quite cold and windy up the Alto. I take a quick picture of the iron pilgrim statues braving the wind. Aha! John, the camper guy is here, selling a measly cup of coffee for 2, it's worth 50 to me. I enjoy the bad coffee with a cookie and rest a bit underneath a windmill. They're huge and make a very distinct sound as the wings slash the air. Behind me lays the entire valley I walked through with Pamplona in the distance, before me lies the valley I still have to do. A line of small villages dot the way. Pretty.
Daphne (the Canadian lady) and I are the last ones to leave the Alto. The descent is not easy as it is pretty steep and over loose round stones. The walk to Uterga is turning out beautiful, on a dirt path through fields covered with blood-red poppies. A large hawk-like bird soars above me, circling for a mouse dumb enough to venture out. It's starting to become pretty hot by the time I get to Muzarabal. Only 5km to Puenta La Reina. I'm resting on a little bench under a flowered tree that attracts the most gigantic black bees I've ever seen. Did I mention I'm an entomophobe?
After a quick drone-accompanied rest, I walk on. A nice old gentleman in wishes me a 'Buen Viaje' and I suspect he talks on about the weather but as I'm Spanish-illiterate I must say gracias and move on. It's getting hotter by the minute and I guzzle lukewarm water by the litre. I didn't bring anything very edible except for a packet of Oreo's which I devour.
Obanos is a slightly larger village and there are lots of people out. Of course, it's Sunday and mass just ended. Children muck up their Sunday clothing playing in the streets. I have to say that I'm losing sense of weekdays; I just look at kilometres and destinations. A bunch of bus tourists is let loose in the village square and it seems they're going to walk the last 1.5 kilometres to Puenta La Reina with me. Sigh. My feet hurt and the sun beats down and those stupid trees are spewing five mattresses worth of fluff over the fields. Ha-CHOO! (If anyone can tell me what trees these are, please mail me.)
I finally arrive in Puenta La Reina and pass the first refugio. My guide announces a second more modern refugio was built on the other side of the town. The walk through the shadowed Calle Mayor is delightful. The Puente del Peregrino is pretty impressive. I cross it and only 300m to the refugio...in the sun...at 2 PM....uphill...after 18km. Boohoo. But it's worth it. Only a few people are here for the moment so I have my choice of beds (bottom bunk!) and an unused clean hot shower. Happy Sigh. I decide not to waste my euros on the washing machines but get used to hand washing. Yerk, everything is so dusty and dirty.
I know I should visit the town but I'm not really in the mood. My energy level is pretty low and it's too damn hot anyway. Also, the nice cool shaded terrace and the cold Coke have a hold on me. I didn't walk to Eunate in the end as it added another 2km and that's too much. I'm still getting used to the whole walking thing. I believe I'll go on to Estella tomorrow unless I find a small casa in Lorca. The guide draws several question marks to that possibility. We'll see.
Now, I understand why no one goes out between 12 and 5PM. Too bloody hot! No use going in the town now as everything will be closed anyway. I may rest a day in Estella as there is much to see? The trouble is that it's hard to get going again after a day of rest. As I want to avoid a similar noon heat, I'll have to leave pretty early tomorrow morning. It promises if the Meseta will be as hot as here. And to think 10 days ago, it snowed at Cebreiro.
I finally removed the Compeed from the blister from hell and it's looking OK, no signs of infection but it's kinda raw so I'm letting it dry in the sun. I must say that the surgical tape in Spain is pretty damn persistent; I had to use disinfectant to get the glue off my toes.
The gentleman are doing their little wash also. Inhibitions are a bit lost here but that's normal. You sleep with dozens in the same rooms, walk together, sweat together, stand in line for the shower together, eat together, do your washing together and hang your underpants on the same line to dry. As long as everything is cleanish and dry, that's all that seems to matter. As I'm resting, I have a talk with a fascinating German Canadian older couple walking the camino too. They've travelled to India, Tibet, climbed Kilimanjaro, hiked the AT, etc. I hope I can grow old like they do.
16h34. My god, it was heavy today. I didn't manage to get to Estella but found a brand-new refugio in Villatuerta. I've now completely lost the group I started out with unfortunately. I've also lost my towel. It's still swinging merrily from the line in Puenta La Reina. It's good I brought my large cotton Egyptian shawl, it will double as a towel now. But man, it was heavy today. The muscles were ok but the feet were against all movement today. I even had to walk on my sandals for a bit after Cirauqui but that only helped a little bit. Will have to rest up a day in Estella, I fear. Today's walk was quite beautiful for the rest, dirt paths through some wonderful fields, a lot of birds, old roman bridges etc. Nice. The last kilometres to Villatuerte were very hard but quite nice through the green wheat fields.
Well, I've done the first 100km, only 650 more to go. I think I'll have to start slowing down a little. Better to go slow now and get there then pull a muscle and go home.
Villatuerta stinks. Literally. I think there might be a garbage dump around here somewhere as I've noticed several garbage trucks heading purposefully in a certain direction. Oh well, I wont be sad to leave here even though I was very happy finding this place. The only other pilgrim here for the moment is an older Irish man who goes slower than me. It's really a very dead place, but I managed to find a small bar where I got a delicious bocadillo con tortilla. Yay.
No, today wasn't really a good day. It turned very hot already around 9am and then it just got worse. There was a small breeze which saved me from keeling over, but still, the ups and downs of the road didn't help. I was done in by the road works this morning. I would've stopped in Lorca, but the doubtful pension was indeed no more as the lady who kept it has fallen ill. I rested half an hour on the plaza mayor (tiny) with a number of other pilgrims, all eating our sandwiches and enjoying the cold cold fountain water.
I suspect it will rain tonight.
I didn't like the walk from Villatuerta to here as it passed two stinky factories and a couple of aggressively barking dogs of which I wasn't sure if they were chained or roaming free. Brrr.
I feel very tired today as I didn't really sleep well last night. Even earplugs couldn't block the Irish man snoring a bed away. I need a day's rest.
I booked a room in a little pension on the Plaza de Santiago (appropriate no?) for 2 nights, shared bathroom for 13. Great! I've eaten lunch but I don't think I'll be doing much for the rest of the day as I'm really beat. I really don't see me climbing up to Cruz de Ferro and Cebreiro in a few weeks.
I'll probably go to Los Arcos the day after tomorrow, 19km seems do-able. If not, I can always say at Villamayor de Monjardin where there is a Dutch refuge. I do so hope the weather wont get hotter or wetter for that matter. It's perfect now the way it is. It's a shame that I lost the entire group of people now with whom I've been walking for the last few days. But that happens when you walk a lot slower than the rest. It's not a race of course and I'd like to enjoy the walk without dropping dead or destroying my feet. I still have a lot of kms to do and my tempo is good enough for me. If I'd go faster, I'd have to rest up every couple of days and that's not the point either.
Election day is the 25th of May; the feelings seem to be getting heated as there seems to have been a protest yesterday. There are pamphlets and graffiti everywhere. The ayuntamiento doors have been sprayed with the word 'fascistas' and several governmental buildings have been egged. I hope I won't be in any town or city on that day. I foresee big trouble. On a sadder note, in Belgium the Flemish Blok, our local extreme--right party has become the largest Flemish party in Brussels. Sigh. Another black day. I'm glad to be far from the news at this time. I'd rather not know.
I probably should've learned some Spanish before I came. I'm doing okay but it's not always easy.
This walking alone is also bringing up a lot of emotions. They're really ā fleur de peau, it's rather disconcerting.
I walked/climbed up to the San Miguel church today to view the stunning roman fronton. The church itself is closed unfortunately but the statues are outside anyway, protected against the rain by a overhang which is a good thing seeing that some statues have been literally rained away over the centuries. No one is around except a very wary cat and I take all the time I need to take pictures and stare. The statues are really exquisite; the faces are very fine and wear beatific expressions. Lovely.
I haven't done much else today I'm afraid. I wandered around looking for a bookstore selling English books, but no luck. Sigh. I guess I'll just have to reread the book I picked up in Trinidad de Arre for the 10th time. Maybe I'll learn it by heart.
I'm doubting that I'll be able to make it Los Arcos tomorrow. That's the trouble with resting up; the body is quickly unused to walking again. I guess I'll have to drag myself forwards tomorrow.
I arrived in Los Arcos at 2.15 in the afternoon, meaning I walked two hours in the hottest part of the day. And hot it was, scorching even. I took a bed in the Belgian Albergue and had a nice hot shower in a clean bathroom. Ah, Bliss. I still walked faster than I expected as I covered the 20km in about 6 hours. The walk to Villamayor de Monjardin was very up and down while the part to Los Arcos was relatively flat. Of course, the flat part gave no shadow on a blistering white gravel path. I'm not over-tired, which is nice and I'm happy to be walking again. I was glad to get here but I believe that if I had rested half an hour along the way, I might have gone farther today.
It's nice to hear Flemish people again after 10 days of Spanish, although the first thing the hospitalero told me was 'Uwe rugzak weegt te veel' Your backpack is too heavy. Yes, I know.
Cooked myself some spaghetti with bread and tuna which I yummed up and I even have some baguette left. Tomorrow I'll probably walk the 18.5km to Viana. I don't think it'll be a problem as my muscles held out well enough after a good painkiller this morning.
In the mean time, the first burro peregrino has stopped by. His name is Igor and is owned by a very friendly french gentleman.
The church in Los Arcos is very odd. First of all, it dwarfs the village and secondly it's a camp nightmare on the inside. A prime example of baroque Horror Vacui. Every square centimetre is decorated, painted, incised, sculpted, etc. and it's gold as far as the eye can see. I follow my third mass in 10 days which start with vespers and the rota of the Holy Sacrament. The pilgrim's blessing was quite emotional and I've come to the conclusion that I no longer know the Hail Mary by heart. Tsk tsk tsk.
It was HOT today, atrociously so and at 3.20 in the afternoon I measure 30°C in the shadow. Thank God, what I feared was Viana in the very far away distance turned out to be Logroņo, meaning Viana was closer than I expected. Not that it made that much of a difference considering I have a new blister. Yay. That walk itself was quite beautiful today, past green wheat fields dotted with colourful pockets of poppies, yellow cabbage flowers (I don't know), purple heath and tiny blue and pink flowers. The air was filled with all kind of finches and tits, noisy as usual. I met quite a number of bugs along the way also, millipedes, big black beetles, small red beetles, whole armies of ants, ladybugs, dozens of very loving spiders and butterflies in all colours. Fascinating to watch this fauna and flora.
The road went up and down quite a lot today and as there was no shadow at all, it was hard going. I had to rest quite a lot and my feet are decidedly unhappy. Torres del Rio was a very pretty small village with a church in Eunate style. Attached to it there was a bell that could be sounded during storms to lead the pilgrims in the right direction. Of course I lost my way somewhere after Torres and tracked about a km in the fields before I realised I hadn't seen an arrow or pilgrim in ages. So, I backtracked, grumbling. There were more pilgrims today, I met a nice German man who was worried I'd drop dead and I saw four people with a dog.
The church in Viana is a very bizarre combination of several different styles, it looks a bit like gothified Romanesque with a gigantic (ugly) renaissance fronton that is suffering from erosion and dilapidation. And again, the church dwarfs the village. Unfortunately (for me) there's a lot of building and restoring going on in Viana, which means I can't get a clear picture of one of the narrow picturesque streets.
I thought I was behind Igor the Burro today as I kept following a trail of donkey dung (that was...ehm...different) but no, it must've been another donkey as Igor is walking up the street just now. Such a cutie. The owner is trying to find a place to camp out, but as the hospitalero speaks no french and Igor's owner speaks no English, I'm asked to translate. Apparantly, it's hard for him to find camping spots every day, not to say anything of stopping along the way to get a drink or to go buy some food. As soon as he ties Igor up to a tree or something in a village, he's told that donkeys aren't welcome. Poor Igor.
The refuge itself is not of the pleasantest, especially the dining room is quite dark and morbid. On top of that, I was assigned the top bunk in a three storey bed. EEP! I'm 2.5m from the floor. I foresee very little sleep tonight.
As I sit waiting for the church to open, two storks come wheeling over. Que monstroso! I've seen already two stork nests and I realise this is gonna become my favourite part of the camino. I'll try to take pictures of every stork's nest I will pass.
The mass was very short today but the church had some very fine retablos and paintings, including a half-naked Mary Magdalen and a strange painting of the crucified Christ. I'd love to have that iconography explained to me.
I've calculated the weight of my backpack to be about 12.5kg without the water. With water, it must be around 14.5 kg. Way too much. I'm trying to figure out what I could leave behind or send back home, but I'm still not sure of what I might need further on.
As it didn't stop raining from Viana to Logroņo, I re-enacted the Ghost of the Opera in Blue...I wrestled in my gigantic blue rain poncho with backpack extension, something which scared the bejeesus out of poor Igor who passed me later on. It was cold and windy today and I, once again, managed to take a wrong turn and head out into the fields. It took about a km before it dawned on my distracted mind that 1. I hadn't seen Igor in ages. There were no pilgrim-like footprints in the mud. I hadn't seen an arrow in a while. Sigh. The walk to Logroņo was not very pleasant as it led through an area of light industry and past, under and over highways. There was nowhere a place to sit down unless you wanted to sit in the mud by the side of the road. The corporations we passed should invest in benches for the pilgrims, seems like good PR to me.
The fun thing about the rain was that suddenly the snails were having a party, dozens of snails started crossing the path carrying their little white shells.
I stopped at Felisa's house where the 6 dogs tied up there (not very welcoming) exploded in paroxysms of rage at seeing poor poor Igor. Felisa unfortunately died a few months earlier and it's her daughter who gives out the sello now.
We amble on, the blue spook first followed by Igor about a 100m behind. As it stopped raining, I finally wrestle out of the poncho, only to have it start up again 10 minutes later. Sigh. I arrive in Logroņo around 10. Unfortunately the refugio only opens at 2.30, meaning I either have to hang around for that time or I book a hotel. I need a night of uninterrupted sleep, lying no more than 50 cms from the floor. Hotel it is. I wander around a little and find a hotel a bit off the Plaza de Mercaderos. It's a bit expensive at 55 but it includes a large private bathroom. I do some laundry and decorate the room with drying clothes.
Logroņo is a nice city with small back streets where outside of the tiny bars, people guzzle Rioja and enjoy fried garlicky calamari. The smell is delicious.
The sky cleared up a little after an hour or so and I managed to visit a little of the older sections of the city without getting sopping wet. I count no less than 5 storks nests on the tower of the La Redonda cathedral. I assume it must damage the architecture but no one seems to mind.
Later at night, Belgium loses the Eurovision Songfestival by one point from Turkey. Many text messages are exchanged.
I arrived in Navarette around 1.25 in the afternoon. I had a lot of trouble today, emotionally as well as physically. The walk today was quite nice actually, starting out with a kilometre or two of jogging course, then through the park, past an artificial lake where men were fishing. As it's Sunday today, lots of families are out even though the weather is not brilliant. After the park, a quick climb on a gravel path through a field of flowered thistles. Past a large pile of goat dung (?!) and descending past a lumberyard where there was a Blair Witch Project thing happening. The chicken wire next to the factory has been decorated with hundreds of little crosses fabricated out of scraps of wood, pieces of wire, shoelaces, etc. Very odd.
After crossing the highway, passing the ruins of the original medieval albergue and the usual climb up into the village, I get to the albergue. Oh joy, all persons coming from Logroņo can only ask for a bed after 4 PM. People coming from further away get priority. Great.
I must've looked like death warmed over as everyone seems concerned about me and the hospitalero lets me have a bed even though I'm only from Logroņo. I'm not the only person who is an emotional wreck today as a girl arrives at the albergue and starts crying as soon as she sits down. I really do feel horrible today. The albergue quickly fills up and I share the room with a large group of very nice french people.
Navarete looks like a very nice small medieval village with - as always - a disproportionate church which contains an overwhelming gold altarpiece. The Rubens retablo that normally hangs here has been (temporarily?) moved to a museum, although they left a life-size picture. I'm not too bummed about it as I saw this painting a few years ago when it came to Brussels for an exposition of Flemish Primitives along the Spanish Camino. I do have to say that the Mater Dolorosa is quite creepy. The pilgrims all quickly leave the church when a funeral starts.
I call home and realise why I've been a mess all day long, my grandmother died this morning. It's not entirely unexpected as she'd been quite ill these last months or so, but it's still a blow especially when you're so far away from home.
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