Day seven - Los Arcos to Logrono

The day stretches out ahead of us

It was a long day. Today we walked for eight hours, covering nearly 30km at an average speed of 3.6km/h, which seems to be our gold standard. Of course, we didn't walk non-stop, but we only had two significant breaks each of 15-20 minutes.

We would have had more. We'd counseled ourselves to take all possible breaks and to eat and drink whenever we got a chance. On the road today, there just weren't any chances.

We knew we had a long day ahead and we knew it was going to be hot. A few minutes ago we went outside for the critical mission of buying cold beer. It's 4pm and you could fry an egg on the pavement.

The street of Los Arcos as we set off for the day.

The strategy was to start early. Our hotel in Los Arcos was offering breakfast at 7.30am and that just wasn't going to work. We set the alarm for 5am and were on the road by 5.35am. Of course it was still dark and there was nowhere open for us to get a coffee, so we set of for the first village. 

Pre-dawn behind us on the trail.

Along the way the earth continued to turn.

Sunrise behind us on the trail at about 7am.

We kept glancing behind us and eventually the sun fulfilled its promise - about time too, it was jolly cold out there.

Unfortunately, the first village, Sansol, was 6.8km away, but nothing was open there either, including the farmacie.

For weary pilgrims, it's much more interesting to know how far it is to the next medical support.

Interesting that on most road trips, the signs indicate how far it is to the next petrol station.

Fortunately, in another kilometre, we came across Torres del Rio at about 7.30am.

We quickly found a lovely little bar attached to an albergue. Their coffee was excellent and the little bocadilla were lovely, beautiful fresh rolls without the take-the-roof-off-your-mouth crusts and stuffed liberally with cheese, tomato and egg. After two and a half hours of walking in the cold it was so nice to sit in the sun and break our fast. Nothing hurt too much, so off we went.

The church at Torres del Rio, Iglesia de Santo Sepulcro, linked to the Knights Templar and based on the octagonal church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem.

Our plan to stop a lot was a bit doomed today, as there was nowhere to stop.

We were entering the wine region of Rioja - coming out of vast stretches on wheat and barley and passing orderly vines (upon whose offspring we had serious intentions).

It was another 10.6km before we reached the village of Viana at about 10.30am. By now we'd been walking for five hours, so had clocked up some serious distance - about 18km. We had another lucky break with our choice of bar. This one had Spanish-speaking Chinese owners - a Chinese opera was being played on the TV as I placed our order. 

Two cafe con leches and two tortilla. But which tortilla? There were three on offer. I chose the biggest, fattest one. It was a good choice. As well as the compulsory egg and potato, this one had some bacon. The obligatory chunks of bread were perfect, the tortilla was delicious, the coffee was just right and the toilet (long overdue) was a welcome addition to the mid-morning festivities.

By now, many other frequent faces were catching up. Even though you don't know their names, you recognise faces and they do too. There was the couple who were at breakfast on our first morning at St Jean Pied de Port. There was Marie-Celine, who was at our hotel in Bayonne and who travelled on the train with us to St Jean (we're not entirely sure if that's her name, but it's similar).

Marie-Celine is Italian, young and with a beautiful smile. You'd never know it, but she seemed to be hurting even more than we were. She looked at bit desperate when I told her we had at least 9km to go to Logrono. 

Max came by - the German with whom we'd had dinner at Estella. We'd crossed his path earlier on, as he sat dressing a blister on the side of the trail. He's taken his shirt off too, to give it a chance to dry while he took a medical break.

Viana Iglesia de Santa Maria, 13th century. In front of the recessed doorway is the tomb of Cesare Borgia, who was killed nearby. He was originally buried inside, but when his mausoleum was vandalised, he was re-interred outside.

So we pressed on - nine or ten kilometres to go. At our optimum speed and depending on conditions, that could be another three hours.

Logrono has created a very orderly entry to the city. For several kilometres, maybe six or seven, you walk on a well paved wide path.

Along the way are Logrono's distinctive signs, twin stone columns with a unique scallop symbol. They're interspersed with the traditional concrete pillars emblazoned with blue and yellow Camino symbols. With a few exceptions, along a 5km stretch they'd been vandalised.

Here's the symbol that should have been on those stones

We had no trouble finding our hotel. We were knackered. In Cathie's own words: "I'm so tired - it's bringing tiredness to a whole new level."

On the other hand, our ancient bodies were holding up. Cathie had a troubling blister, but her dodgy knees were still alive and well, despite some very slow descents. My Heathrow hamstring is slowly easing - definitely better now than it was a week ago.

We've had seven days on the trail. Tomorrow we have our first rest day - oh how welcome it is.

In summary, we're getting stronger every day. Our ailments are minimal.

I have my usual problem with my 73-year-old brain continuing to empty - I'm expecting the birth experience to arrive at every moment.

As for the songs that go around in my head. I've had embarrassing moments  today - Max Bygraves yodeling about tulips and Amsterdam and Dean Martin getting maudlin about pizzas. But the song that stuck was one that must have become imprinted when I was somewhere between three and eight, when I listened to the radio a lot. I loved songs about heroes and love and happy endings.

My mother Shirl was an accomplished pianist. She didn't care much for emotion and floral asides, but she was a great technician. I think she would have made it big as a honkytonk player.

When I was a callow teenager, about 13, shy and grumpy, you could never have got me to sing out loud, no matter what you bribed me with.

One day, 60 years ago, old Shirl (she was young Shirl then) sat down at the piano and started playing The Floral Dance. Completely without inhibition, I stood up behind her and lustily sang every single word of this song, at high volume. When I was done, the room was silent, nobody could believe that this tender teen had just done that (I couldn't believe it either).

So, for your edification, here's the song that was in my head: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=581Ba1I_63E

The afternoon has progressed. We found some quite nice double malted beer at a nearby supermarket for 83 cents a can. They make the beer strong here. This one was in excess of 7 percent.

We also found a bottle of the local product (we're in the capital of the Rioja region now and we got a nice bottle of Rioja tempranillo on special for €4.30. We snooped around the local restaurants, but it's uncertain what you're getting and what you're paying for it. After considering a few options, we decided that since we had no plans to meet anyone, we'd just eat in with packaged salads and a nice wine for a fraction of what we'd pay to go out. Besides, we can eat early and crash, which is our preference. Tomorrow is our first rest day - a blessed sleep in, followed by a lazy day.

Here's the Relive video of the day: https://www.relive.cc/view/vdvmKVorRx6

Here's a link to today's photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/UZQQdN3MA8zkjJj58