Day 7 Navarette - Najera – Distance walked 14km

Albergue

€5

Weather - back to the singlet and shorts heat we had come to know and hate

A week on the Camino today. In some ways we feel like the time had passed slowly while at the same time we feel like we have only left Pamplona yesterday. Before beginning the Camino we had read that it takes on average 14 days to find your walking legs. Fourteen days until you have found your natural rhythm and the walking becomes effortless and enjoyable leaving the mind free from focusing on the physical discomfort of the earlier days. People describe missing the walking and feeling ‘restless’ in the albergues wanting to keep going each day. 

We look forward to the days we don’t reach the albergues and fall into an exhausted heap.

After a shocking night sleep, courtesy of some inconsiderate Spanish roommates making one hell of a racket, people around us have been slow to get going this morning and yet we are still the last pilgrims to leave - with the exception of our 71 year old pilgrim friend Ardt.

It surprises me how some people can be so inconsiderate of other travellers, how oblivious of how their actions impact on others. Whether it be emptying their packs and spreading their equipment all over the place, having overly long showers and using all the hot water or talking at the top of their voices well past lights out aka the Spanish pilgrims. My personal favourite is the pilgrim who reads the sign on the albergue door “no waking before 7am allowed” and yet still sets their blaring alarm for 5.30am. Even more popular in the dorms is the pilgrim who sets their alarm for 5am or 5.30 am at maximum volume and then sleeps straight through it leaving the pilgrims sleeping near him to search desperately for the alarm in the dark dorm room hoping they can smash it. Luckily I brought ear plugs and Aurelia continues to sleep through everything.

Where we had THE best pilgrim meal of the camino - the albergue was through that archway.

As we head out of town, right on the border we strip off our jackets and beanies. The air is still fresh but we know we will overheat quickly and I need to remove my jacket before Raya goes back to sleep for her morning nap in the carrier - otherwise taking her off my shoulders to remove the layers will disturb her.

As we strip off our ice breaker layers the skies show us that the day is going to be a hot one. Our plan was to cover the kilometres as quickly as possible as sections of the trail today we knew would be lacking in shade. We were aiming to be at the albergue by 12 noon if we could.

However our day didn’t start well. This time my feet weren’t to blame, threading cotton through my blisters and using betadine had helped slightly overnight and I had become more proficient in taping my feet. Instead poor sleep was affecting both of us and it was Nick’s turn to be hurting today. Unsurprisingly Nick was really struggling with his pack and I had noticed that his knee had begun bothering him. Reluctantly he had begun using a knee brace. We had discussed trying to lighten the pack even further but were at a loss as to what we could possibly do without - we were at the bare minimum as it was. Not helping matters the camino crosses several regions of Spain bringing with it regional variations in weather. The middle section, the meseta or desert region is hot but the final region of Galicia is known to be incredibly wet and can be cold so a range of clothing options are required.



Our morning walk allowed us to catch up with the familiar german faces from dinner last night and a lovely group of german men who we have been keeping pace with since the early days on the Camino. One of these men is my father-in-laws doppelganger (my husband did a serious double take the first time we met them) and Aurelia jumps up and down in the carrier when she sees him - a sure sign she hasn’t forgotten her Poppy. As usual we meet strangers on the path who all take photos of the “littlest peregrino” and she obliges with big monster smiles and waves.

As we walked on we saw the option to head off towards Ventosa on a smaller track which would weave through olive trees and cereal fields. Pilgrim after pilgrim made the turn in front of us. Ahead of us (if we chose to not walk through Ventosa) lay a straight, boring trail which ran mind numbingly parallel to the N-20. No churches, shops or cafes on this path. However it was shorter and with time being the issue in the forefront of our minds and knowing we were carrying enough water we pushed on straight ahead on the N-20 route without looking back at Ventosa.

We ate while walking to make the best time possible while Raya was sleeping in the carrier. Today Nick would pass food to her while she was in the carrier and she would have plenty of time to crawl around if we made it to Najera in good time.

The walking was nothing memorable and neither of us were in a mood to appreciate the scenery. It was a case of put one foot in front of the other. Repeat.

This repetition was only broken by Raya jumping up and down in the carrier with excitement. We looked around us to see what had got her so excited. Nick was shaking his head in confusion - perhaps there had been an animal we had missed however as I looked at the path I knew what had captured her attention - the rocks.

Back home in Australia Aurelia loved to watch a BBC show “In the Night Garden”. One of the characters Maka Paka loved to arrange stones into small piles - exactly as pilgrims had done with stones on the trail. Aurelia had obviously thought Maka Paka had been here so we spent some time looking at the stones while she laughed. Nick and I commented the arranging of the stones had obviously been done on a much cooler day.

Walking on past the Maka Paka artwork was the hardest part of the walk that day. By now the sun was almost overhead and we were struggling. The heat and low mood made each step harder. It is generally not the physical action or discomfort but the mood that accompanies it which determines how difficult a person finds a task. Our moods were not helping us out.

As we reached the top of Alto de San Anton the dark cloud that had been travelling with us all morning dissapated and we felt the beauty of the camino shine down on us. The view was like a long cool drink and our spirits felt rejuvenated. Nick commented that “this was what he looked forward to on the camino each day”. To the left we saw indigo coloured mountains with white peaks and as we stood under the shade of the tree we were surrounded by vineyards with Najera spread across the horizon.

Onwards we walked, eating our baguettes, as we continued on down the gentle sloping descent into the city.

Walking down the trail, as we changed Raya’s nappy, came the Spanish man with the dog who was now walking with the ‘Swiss Blister Boy’ who we had helped on the side of the road. With smiles and ‘Buen Camino’ greetings we all continued onwards towards Najera.

This part of the walk was ugly, with a huge radio tower having been installed on the top of a mountain and the industrial region and quarry sitting like a scar on the landscape. Then out of the blue we spied Wolfgang - he just kept popping up along the trail when we least expected it.

We reached the albergue in Najera with the help of some locals who pointed us in the right direction as we crossed the river flowing through the town.

We reached the albergue in Najera with the help of some locals who pointed us in the right direction as we crossed the river flowing through the town.

We were 5th to arrive at the albergue and there was nothing else to do except follow the other pilgrims, who had arrived ahead of us, staring in disbelief at the sign that informed us that the albergue didn’t open till 3pm!!! We now had 4 hours to kill.

We decided we would just queue our packs and retreat to the shaded grass area next to the river until the albergue opened. From here we could spread out, Raya could crawl around, people could do yoga and we could all keep an eye on our belongings. Nick and I knew our pack was safe - someone would have to be able to lift our pack before they could steal it and we knew the average person had NO chance.

Here relaxing on the grass we met Tim, an English character now living in Ireland, and his Portugese camino buddy. Tim spoke little Spanish and the Portugese guy limited English and yet they were getting along like a house on fire - perhaps limited communication rather than the endless Top Five games we had been playing - was the key!!



Tim informed us he had continually heard about us, the “Australian couple with the baby”, the “littlest pilgrim” and he was excited to catch up with us and hear our story. We were surprised that so many people were talking about Aurelia but Tim assured us that she had quickly become a legend on the camino with people showing the photos they had taken of her to each other to confirm they weren’t lying - they actually had seen a baby on the camino. Wow - a legend on the camino. We figured that made us legends by default.

This Portugese pilgrim was amazing. He must have been 50-55 with grown children our own age but he didn’t look a day over 35 ageing with more finesse than any0ne person was entitled too. He walked at an extremely fast pace and wasn’t carrying a single injury. If it wasn’t for his adoration of Aurelia - who crawled all over him like he was a piece of playground equipment - and emptying his wallet in between blowing him kisses - he would have been banished from our sight.

Tim, with great humour, shared stories from his Camino so far, including getting lost going over the Pyrenees. But it was the tales of the other families he had met on the camino that made our ears really prick up. Other families! With more than one child!! I felt a sense of relief to know that we were not alone in our madness.

Tim told us he had encountered two other families. The first family had three children who they were transporting in a large buggy that you normally saw attached to a bicycle. He believed one child was similar to Aurelia’s age, the other two 6 and 8. We couldn’t imagine taking the little legs of a 6 or 8 year old over some of the ground we had covered nor could we imagine pushing the combined weight of a 6 and 8 year old. Still people thought we were crazy so we reserved judgement till we hopefully crossed paths with the family.



Tim told us that the second family were an Irish couple with a little boy who they were pushing in a pram along the camino. He didn’t have any other details other than to say the baby was a delightful little chap. Mmm perhaps Aurelia was not the “littlest peregrino” after all.

Tired of waiting the Portugese man decided to walk on but we were done for the day and happy to wait in the sunshine. Slowly we watched a pattern emerge. Pilgrim walks slowly along the road to albergue. Turns corner and stops when he/she sees packs. Walks to door. Emits audible groan. Throws pack on ground at end of the queue. Retreats to shade. Removes boots. Does not move.

Being a teacher I let my eyes wander to the schoolyard next to the albergue. The class is having what I think is a fitness lesson on the concrete playground. The lesson involves the kids riding scooters through witches cones. I don’t imagine any of them even broke a sweat. That isn’t going to help any of them burn off the kilojoules a Spanish diet delivers in the form of numerous sweets and lollies we see Spanish children consuming. That sooo would not pass for a fitness lesson back at home in my school.

Finally the doors of the albergue are opened and people go to rejoin their packs. We overhear an Italian pilgrim commenting that he has just had to walk back from Logrono for a second time. Seems he had tendonitis so had to go back to Logrono to buy NEW hiking boots. Nick and I look at each other in horror. Imagine wearing boots that haven’t been broken in. I had the blisters from hell and that was walking in well broken in shoes. We asked him what he had been walking in and he told us sandals - he had left his hiking boots at home in Italy because he didn’t think he would need them and they would be too heavy. At this comment we all had a bit of a laugh - his with a slightly manic tinge. I guess when the camino threw you a hand of cards like tendonitis and new boots you either laughed or cried.

As we moved inside the albergue we were greeted by a sour pair of Germans who were in the role of albergue volunteers. We smiled as we passed our credentials across the counter and Aurelia gave one of her big cheesy grins. The woman sneered in response. Charming! Even the pilgrims standing near us looked shocked at her reaction. Where was the hospitality -after all they were called hospitalero's.

I asked if there was a problem with us having Aurelia in the albergue to which there was no response from either of them other than for them to take our 10 euro. Right end of the matter in my mind - we paid, we were staying. Don’t like having a child then don’t take our money!!

Pointing to the map of the dorm room, we saw the single level building which I suspect was initially part of the school building next door must sleep over 100 people, the male volunteer indicated that we had to decide where we would sleep but that the best spot with Aurelia would be one of the end beds. No problem. We picked up our gear and headed straight to the end of the dorm room. As we walked along the narrow row between the bunk beds nearly every person who saw us smiled at Aurelia and many knew her name although we had never met them which made us feel a little odd. Still the warm reception helped thaw the ice reception the volunteers had given us.

One advantage of participating in the race to the albergue is early in the queue means early to the showers. Yes - hot water for us today!!!

Now I am proud to be a woman but the behaviour of some in the showers makes me feel ashamed. No it isn’t the full frontal nudity, it is the way women seem to disregard each other. The men, according to Nick, have ultra quick showers, with men passing through the bathroom quickly. If they are in there long enough to remove the days smell is open for debate, but they don’t muck around in there.

The women however seem to think they are in the bathroom at home. I may be 5th in the queue but that doesn’t mean I need to adopt a “stuff you all attitude” in regards to the hot water. I shower as quickly as possible, pop my bra and undies on, and then come out from my cubicle to dress leaving the cubicle free for the next sweaty pilgrim waiting in the bathroom. I notice when I jump out that the two women who entered the cubicles on either side of me, before my shower, are still in there with steam pouring from the top of their shower cubicles. How considerate.

On the topic of shower room ettiquette, when I walk out from my cubicle I almost walk directly into the two completely naked Spanish women standing side by side at the hand basins. I know they are both Spanish (we had already exchanged the usual “Are you the Australian with the baby” details in which they told me they were from Spain) but they are both speaking in English which strikes me as odd. Waiting to brush my teeth, and not wanting to lean around the naked woman to reach the sink, I stand waiting with nothing else to do but eavesdrop.

The woman to the left is hand washing in the basin and commenting that she really needs another pair of shorts. I assume she is referring to a normal pair of shorts like I am wearing - I only have two pairs as I packed zip off pants. The woman in front of me nods in agreement. The woman then says ‘I only have these 1 pair” and holds up a pair of lacy boy leg undies. You have got to be joking!!! 1 pair of undies for a month of walking. Now I love lace undies as much as any woman but a synthetic fibre would not be my choice for the weather or terrain we were experiencing.

As I continue to look on in disbelief she pops the just washed ‘shorts’ under the hand dryer and when satisfied bends down and puts them on. Obviously I am being excessive bringing 4 changes of undies with me.

Finally it is my turn to clean my teeth and I almost choke on my Colgate when the Spanish woman, now with clean undies, proceeds to haul a toiletries bag equal in weight to our pack, up onto the sink. Pulling back the zip she reveals moisturiser, conditioner and shampoo (I’m using a bar of soap),mascara, foundation, contact solution (fair enough a pilgrim has to see) and a facial and eye mask. No wonder she only has room for one pair of undies!!!

The remainder of the afternoon and evening was filled with the standard washing, eating and journaling. When Nick set up Aurelia’s cot he saw that the valve for the Kinderkot mattress was torn, rendering the mattress useless. Glue and tape didn‘t work so the mattress ended up in the bin. Unless we wanted Aurelia to be sleeping directly on the floor our option now was to use our sleeping bags to providing padding for her. After some playing with the cot Nick finally got it set up.

Every time the female volunteer saw Aurelia a look of displeasure crossed her face. Almost immediately following us setting up the cot she comes marching down the aisle and using a series of grunts and motioning with her foot we get the idea she doesn’t like the placement of Aurelia’s bed. In frustration Nick repositions all of our gear and moves the cot. My hand is itching to slap her one.

We are not the only pilgrims she has taken a disliking too and finally moves on to frown in the direction of some outgoing Brazilian guys.


In the albergue there was a huge sign that read “A tourist is demanding: a pilgrim is thankful” - well I guess that makes me a Camino tourist today I thought. Despite to escape the depressing mood in this alberque we join the exodus at dinner time to a nearby restaurant for another standard pilgrim meal.

I don’t recall what time it was when I woke up lathered in sweat and freezing cold during the night. I scrambled around in my compression sack to reach as many thermal items as I could. Within minutes the layers were soaking. I curled myself up in a ball inside my sleeping bag liner praying I could fall back to sleep, too cold to move from the foetal position I had curled up into. The shakes continued.

The lights being turned on at 6am woke me and I felt like I was dying. Grabbing my towel I made for the toilets and a hot shower. My hair was plastered to my head from sweat and I was still freezing. Standing under a scalding stream of water I thought how odd it had been that I hadn’t felt like I was coming down with the flu yesterday. I went to lift my left arm to reach for the soap and my left breast felt like it had been sliced with a knife. I dropped my arm and lowered my eyes to look at my breast. I had felt that the straps on the carrier may have been chafing yesterday but not to the degree of pain I was feeling now. I moved my right arm over my left breast and felt the hard patch with heat radiating from it. All the symptoms fit together now and tied into Aurelia dropping some of her daily breastfeeds.


I dried off and went back to the dorm room. Nick looked at me concerned.I told him we weren’t walking anywhere today except to check in to the three star hotel in town.

I had my first case of mastitis.