Day 11 - 16th May 2009 Grannon - Tosantos

Distance walked - 21kms

Weather - sweltering degrees

‘Picking up a baguette at the Panaderia of Jesus, where you know the bread has to be good, we walked away from Grannon to the sound of the church bells ringing - sending the pilgrims off on their journey.

Today we were walking into the new region of Castilla y Leon towards Belorado. Belorado was a huge town in medieval times and was the first town granted permission from Santo Domingo to establish stalls to sell to travelling pilgrims

The walk today was fairly easy with gradual inclines but the sky was cloudless and the sun beat down on us pilgrims relentlessly. Today of all days Aurelia decided she wasn’t going to wear a hat and was quite amused by her new game of how far she could throw her hat from the carrier. Her mother and father were considerably less amused after playing the game for 3 consecutive hours.

Nick’s knee was still bothering him and I had new blisters on my feet. Worse was that we had lost some weight walking and now the hip belt was loose on my waist. I had difficulty doing it up tight enough and as a result the carrier was squishing a nerve in my shoulder making my right arm go numb. Nick and I had kept our eyes out for a new carrier as we walked through towns but no one had any idea of where we could find a baby hiking carrier. Some sales assistants did make the helpful suggestion of Barcelona - which was the complete opposite direction.


The road extended through field after field of wheat and the highlight of the morning walk was an unexpected icecream stall in one of the small town squares. These townsfolk - along with 6-7 feral cats - were all determined to benefit from the visiting pilgrims. The girl at the icecream stand was doing a roaring trade on the day we passed through and there were no complaints of commercialisation ruining the pilgrim experience from us - where ice cream is involved there is no taking the higher ground.

With our hats and shirts drenched with water and wet bandanas around our necks and, with Raya in her UV50 swimsuit and still fighting the hat - we arrived in Belorado by 2pm and sat in the town square to redress my feet and discuss whether we would walk on.

We met Kate and Emma lying down on the town square bench - taking a brief break before they walked the next 12km.

Belorado had HEAPS of albergues - several which were brand new, Î5 Euro and had swimming pools. We passed many familiar pilgrim faces who were already settled into the albergues and kicking back with a cocktail in hand by the time we walked past. Lots of them called out to us to stop and come and join them for a swim.

Aah the temptation to stop at one of these albergues was so strong we nearly succumbed but, on principal we said no. I know it seemed ridiculous when it was sweltering degrees and they had swimming pools but this time, as there was no icecream involved we were taking the high ground!!

As we had been walking through the seemingly endless field of wheat we had seen a car come driving through the fields along the narrow dirt track. At first we had suspected that a Spanish farmer had finally had enough of thousands of strangers traipsing through his fields but the Spanish have endless patience and a real spirit of hospitality for pilgrims of Saint James. Instead as the car drove near to us we could see people hanging out of the car windows thrusting business cards for their ‘brand new albergue with a swimming pool’. Whenever the pilgrim accepted the business card they were quick to offer the use of a mobile phone to the pilgrim to call ahead and book their room.


Neither Nick nor myself agreed with this calling ahead to book a room. In our mind this is what tourists did for hotels, not pilgrims. It encouraged people to race from town to town and fail to listen to their bodies and pace themselves accordingly. Every pilgrim has something they hate - for many it is the cyclists who speed past them during the day and take the beds in albergues in the evening - but this was our particular pet hate.

So sitting in the main square, replacing the wet gauze on my weeping toes we weighed up our options while Aurelia bum shuffled around amusing the locals - and herself!!

Tomorrow’s elevation map showed a huge climb and any extra distance covered today would only make the following days walk easier. We also knew that if we walked on to Tosantos we would find a warm welcome at the albergue and our friends from the previous evening - if they too had resisted the temptation of the swimming pool.

Walking - a far cheaper way than driving across Spain.

Fuelled with caffeine and sweet biscuits we resumed the walk onwards to Tosantos. The last 6kms was uneven road and my feet and shoulders were glad to finally reach the town. Even a top 5 game of ‘ Top 5 chocolate bars’ and the subsequent heated debate between Bounty and Kit Kat had not proved adequate distraction from the discomfort we were experiencing.

Aurelia had also grown increasingly restless as we walked and she was ready to be out of the carrier and crawling free.

As we reached the albergue we were greeted with the warm welcome we had anticipated and our friends from the night before. Oh it was so lovely to have finally kept pace with our friends and the pain of the last 6kms faded away as we found our sleeping space. Like the previous albergue there were no beds only mattresses for us in the attic sleeping quarters but for once we were bunking down next to friends, not unfamiliar faces.

Once we had braved the ice cold showers - and I really do mean ice cold - we went to sit in the sunshine to warm up. Aurelia was delighted to be free on the grass and have a new captive audience at her disposal.

As parents it was interesting for us to watch how different cultures interact with children. The French generally seem to be very reserved and the hardest to be won over by Aurelia’s charms but she loves a challenge. The Germans and Danish are warm but respect her personal space and let her move over towards them. The Spanish however don’t hold back at all. As soon as they see Aurelia there are normally calls out of “Guapa Chicka” and they rush forward to scoop her into their arms. If Aurelia holds out her arms for us or tries to wiggle free they will pinch her cheeks and dance around till she is laughing and giggling. If that fails some form of sweet food is offered and at this point Aurelia is their friend for life. It I also interesting to note that the Germans and Danish are happy to follow games led by Aurelia and they would always let her choose the books to read. The French were really into singing her songs and the Spanish people preferred to create the games or activities.

Tarki the hospitalero came outside and asked if any of the pilgrims wanted to go to the church in the rock for a short tour. While it was an invitation it was obviously expected people would attend and as Tarki said it would be short we were happy to attend the local tour to see the church the townsfolk were so proud of - it really was the only thing which could even vaguely pass as a tourist attraction.

We walked across from the albergue and met the elderly, deeply religious woman who was the tour guide. Our 5 minute tour turned out to be a 1hour tour where we walked up a steep hillside to reach a small cave which had been turned into a small chapel who knows when. We were all sooo glad we had thongs on and of course at the end of the day a pilgrim who has walked 20-30kms wants NOTHING more than to walk up another hill.


One of our fellow pilgrims was a lovely Brazilian girl, who now lived in Italy, who spoke both Spanish and Portugese. Her name was Lucia and she was beautiful both in appearance and spirit.

Aurelia was quite taken with her, she has a real gift of discerning a persons’ character. Lucia was amazed we were doing the pilgrimage with a baby. We were amazed she was doing the pilgrimage with a dog.

We got talking as we walked up the steep hill. She was doing the pilgrimage as a way to see Spain while she worked out where her relationship with her Italian boyfriend was headed. She knew what we meant about having become celebrities on the camino -her dog had meant a similar notoriety accompanied her - but not such a positive one. Albergues would not let her stay because of her dog and as a result she was often left to camp outside albergues in a tiny tent by herself. While we had to stop to give Aurelia breaks during the day she had to do the same for her anxious dog - who wasn’t coping well with the walk so far. He would use all his energy early in the day and then lie down and refuse to move for hours forcing Lucia to wait for him till he was ready to continue. Nick and I are both dog people but we felt this was taking it a little too far.


I asked Lucia if she was finding the camino a lonely experience and she admitted she was and was thinking twice about continuing. She didn’t think her dog would cope with the heat of the mesetta and because she couldn’t take her dog on a bus, like we could take Aurelia to skip the mesetta, she was beginning to realise that her pilgrimage may have to come to a premature end. She was planning to take the dog to a vet to get an expert opinion as to whether she could continue with him. It was also interesting to me that the cost of the dog’s passport to travel from Italy with vaccinations was the same price as the cost of Aurelia’s UK visa.


As we reached the top the tour guide gave Lucia a hard time for having brought the dog up the hill, even though the dog would wait outside. However once the tour guide realised that none of us spoke Spanish she quickly changed her tune and became overly friendly towards Lucia so that she would do the translating.

Many pilgrims complete the walk of St James for religious reasons however this particular group of pilgrims were not religious at all. Once we were in the church we realised the ‘tour’ was really just an attempt to hit up pilgrims for money donations. We all sat in silence while she went into lengthy detailed description of the Virgin Mary on the altar. When Nick made a joke about the Virgin Mary being the only virgin left in Spain the woman realised her chance of getting much money were slim (from us she was getting nothing our wallet was in our packs) and so she brought the tour to an end - but not before she said three lengthy prayers - looking at Nick for most of the time - most likely praying for his heathen pilgrim soul.

Once back in the albergue everyone went downstairs to help make the communal dinner and Nick jumped at the chance to have a lesson in how to make traditional Spanish paella.

The dinner downstairs was wonderful. We had a nicoise salad, paella cooked in a huge communal pan and then baked apples for dessert. Once again the gift of hospitality was evident. It was a simple communal meal and it wasn’t the presentation of the table or the complexity of the meal which made it memorable - the meal was made with simple, local produce, it was the positive energy which made the meal. I am learning this lesson and hope that it is one that I carry home with us. At home throwing a dinner party means cleaning the whole house, then choosing dishes that complement each other and timing the cooking right so the meal can be served on time while still cooking food which fits into the budget. The wines that match the meal have to be selected, knowing this will be talking point at the table, and no wonder by then the whole activity seems a huge hassle and the hostess has no energy left to enjoy the evening. Throw looking after a small child into the mix and this is why I think parents of young children limit their entertaining in the home.




However here in the albergue, where the budget for the meal consists of what the pilgrims the night before donated (neither the church or the state provides funding for paroquial albergues - and all repairs on the albergue are done by volunteer pilgrims eg cold showers because the plumbing was done by a pilgrim volunteer plumber), everyone comes together to help create the meal. They put their love and energy into the process and therefore enjoy the meal because they were involved. The wine has no label but people are just grateful for it to be provided and what vintage or grape kind is irrelevant - it is just about drinking for simple enjoyment.

Tarki also began the meal with a great rap style grace. It was not about being religious but about showing thanks and the rap involved banging the table as loudly as you could with your hands - Aurelia LOVED this form of grace. The aim of the Fransiscan tradition was to bring a positive energy to the food and the meal - and it worked. Once the rap was over everyone had a smile on their face and noisy conversations broke out across the table as people were served.

After dinner we all went to a tiny prayer room with a beautiful stained glass door. The doorway was at hip height deliberately made low so as to remind you to be humble and lower yourself on entering the room. Lucia’s dog, nervous at being away from her tried several times to get into the prayer room. Nick escaped the prayers by nominating himself to put Aurelia to sleep and supervise her.

Tarki played Franciscan monk music, dimming the lights, lighting candles and asking people to sit in silence for 2 minutes to reflect on the day just walked. He too enforced the message that no pilgrim can rush the camino - it will slow you down to the speed you need to walk to learn the lessons it had in store for you. Perhaps this was why our packs were so heavy and we had blisters - we were missing the lessons.

We all took turn to participate in a multi language service and then to read the requests/prayers of pilgrims who had passed through before us. Prayers for healing, prayers for family members with cancer, heart wrenching requests from people desperate to find the answer to life while walking the camino otherwise they were planning to end it all.

It was a moving experience and helped us feel connected to the hundreds of other pilgrims who had passed through this same albergue and shared in the same hospitality that had been shown to us.
In a subdued mood we all went our own way to bed.

The great food, friendship, hospitality and reflection meant that everyone slept soundly and we were all still in our sleeping bags when the sun shone through our window at 7.30am the next day.

The next morning when we woke it was the first time that we had to sadly wish people farewell. The lovely German ladies were returning to Germnay and didn't have time to walk any further. They read Miss Raya makka pakka and there were tears.

Finally we wished Lucia, Tarki and the dog farewell and begun the important question "to mesetta or not mesetta". That was the question.

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.

Day 6 Logrono-Navarette - 12km

"Knock Knock"

The door of our hospital room is flung open by the volunteer at the albergue. He wants to if we are ready to leave yet. Thankfully we are already up and dressed. Glancing over his shoulder as he pushes into our room we see the loft room is already full of empty beds. We are the last pilgrims remaining again.

It is still not 8am and we still have plenty of time till we should be forced out the door but this volunteer wants us out quicksmart so he can go about his day.

Good morning and welcome to another day on the camino!!

Struggling with blisters and our heavy packs as we walk down all the flights of stairs the volunteer walks next to us with an unimpressed look on his face, not offering to help carry anything. Thanks so much.

He shows us straight to the large wooden doors but we need to pick up our hiking boots from the rack. Ignoring his expression we sit down in the hallway and slowly and painfully put our boots on. There is no way we are leaving without having even put our shoes on.

As we exit out the large wooden doors we almost trip over two pilgrims who have been sleeping on the doorstep all night. As they stretch and rise to their feet obviously expecting a warm welcome at the albergue, the volunteer points us in the direction of a cafe that will serve breakfast and then slams the door shut - almost catching the nose of one of the pilgrims.

Turns out they were struggling with the heat like we had been and when the snoring got too bad at the last albergue picked up all their belongings and decided to trek through the night. This didn't really prove too many problems until their headlight battery ran out leaving them to stumble along the trail in the dark. Well at least they will be first in the queue for the albergue now.

We head off to the cafe and sit next to the Spanish shower exhibitionist from the evening before - there's a mental picture I didn't need prior to caffeine. The typical Spanish breakfast involves small sweet cakes served with coffee. Aurelia is constantly being offered these sweet cakes by Spanish women we meet. She has since become addicted and on occasion I have seen her stuff so many into her cheeks that we are suprised she can even breathe.

After breakfast we go and sit in the square opposite the chemist. I spy Barbara who is waiting for her bus on the other side of the square. She is travelling back to the UK today and Judy will walk the remaining distance alone. We had agreed to meet up with her further down the trail. Unfortunately we never saw her again on the camino.

As we sat in the freezing cold wind attempting to re tape my feet -Raya happily playing with her nina and nino in the carrier - the tensions surrounding the decision to walk on erupted into a heated argument. We really had to make the decision now - before we were in some small town with no other transport option than to walk out - which may become impossible. The decision to walk on for each of us had to be made for us as individuals accepting that we had no idea if the difficulty level would rise as we continued. It was another suck it up moment. We had to discuss our fears and dreams and disappointments in a very real way.

On reflection Nick thought the camino was all over. He saw our camino experience ending right there in the shadow of the bus station which would comfortably and reliably carry us to a town of our choice.He called my decision to continue my 'fulcrum' moment. I believe it was 600mg of Ibuprofen blessedly kicking in. Either way we decided we were going to finish the camino and decided to head to Navarette which was only 12 kms away.

Walking out of the city we saw a supermercado selling hot baguettes and avocado - oh we were craving avocado - and avocado just makes everything feel better.

We continued walking along the footpath next to a busy road looking for somewhere to have a picnic and let Aurelia crawl around. As we pulled her out of the carrier she gave us a huge cheeky monster smile. The smile usually reserved for when she has been cheeky. Beanie - check. Jacket - check. Shoes - oh dear.

Somewhere since leaving the city Aurelia has decided to help lighten the load by throwing one of her shoes from the carrier. Her only pair of shoes that she has with us are now missing the partner. We consider for a millisecond going and looking for the little lost shoe before we accept that it is what she is offering up to the camino. We are fairly confident she will take her first steps along the way of St James - becoming a real pilgrim - and so will buy her another pair of shoes here in Spain.

After our picnic in the park (where we saw a Spanish lady wipe her dogs bum with paper !!!!) we headed off. It was an absolute relief to see that the majority of the trail was paved walking around a large lake. Finally - walking the camino was no more difficult than taking your dog out for a walk. My feet have never been more grateful.

Unfortunately as there were no public toilets we were forced into taking a wilderness wee in the park - oh so glamorous. Just as I pulled my pants down a swarm of mosquitos descended. Fantastic - now I will be scratching my way to Santiago.

The path meandered on and we passed several who had either had a late start like us or who were pushing really hard and had walked starting before Logrono. We passed one lady who walked reciting Hail Mary's the entire way with her rosary beads clutched in her hands. I could tell Nick was itching to throw away a few one liners but he just managed to keep them to himself.Just

As the trail ran parallel to the highway and we ascended to the top of a hill from which we could see Navarette in the distance - we saw the crosses which had been made and attached to the wire fence.

As Nick and I helped Raya thread a cross to place on the fence we were remined of how many people had walked this same path this year, this month, this week an even this same day. The EXACT same path. We felt part of a much larger picture and encouraged and humbled at the same time.

As we pushed on past the iron bull we tried to boost our spirits with the knowledge that the albergue was not far to go.

As we walked into the city we passed the ground of the initial pilgrim hospital. What an appropriate place to sit and rest my feet. There was nothing I could do but stop. My socks were saturated from my oozing toes and walking even another 100m was out of the question.

As we sat on the grass in the sunshine watching Raya crawl around happily we saw a flood of pilgrims pouring down the trail. Aah so it seems the daily race for the albergue had begun again.

There was nothing to do but let them walk right on past us. We would pay for a pension if needs be.We had learnt the hard way that when your feet give you an instruction - you do as you are told. And so we sat.

Finally as the throbbing eased slightly we decided it was now or never so hauled ourselves and packs up off the grass and walked up the hill. Why oh why does the final stretch always have to have some form of hill - it's like the icing on the cake of camino torture.

We reached the albergue, exhausted and sweating in the sweltering heat. The overcast skies and freezing wind had vanished to be replaced with a horrendously humid day. I looked over Nick's shoulder and saw that there was plenty of room to stand in the foyer of the albergue and wait while pilgrim passports were stamped. There was no need to make people and a small child wait outside in the heat. Yet we were ignored. Knocking on the door was ignored and my frustration slowly built.

People were now queuing behind us having walked to the other albergues and found they were full. After what seemed like an eternity the hospitalero let us in before slamming the door behind him least the two elderly pilgrims enter the cooler room before their time.

He assigned us to a room in the loft explaining it was almost the last empty beds, explained the bathroom were co-ed - now that was going to be interesting -- and then waffled on about his son who was a Jesuit priest in South America. Crikey he was giving us his son's whole life story - and I thought we were proud parents. I silently began to pray for Mercy in my head and for him to be suddenly struck mute.

I nodded my head while the word "bed" repeated in my ears. The entire time we stood listening to him we were carrying our packs and sweating. I was expecting I could take a shower or swim in the puddle we were going to leave on his tiled floor.I glanced over a Nick and saw he too was doing the "mm that's really interesting" head movement that I secretly knew meant "get me the hell out of here".

As soon as he passed our passports back across the table we did a snatch and grab and moved as fast as possible to reach our beds. My feet felt wet and mushy and Nick's shoulder and knee were killing him.

As we climbed the second set of stairs a person with a yellow bandana around their neck walked towards us "Wolfgang" we cried. We were both so excited to see each other and it was a welcome and unexpected surprise as we had not seen him on the path that morning. Instantly our spirits felt uplifted - just like you do when you greet a friend who has returned at the airport. Seeing Wolfgang had become one of the highlights of our day.

We were thankful that we left our picnic when we did because once we arrived in the loft there was only 2 more beds left for the elderly people who had been behind us.

Removing my boots and dunking my feet straight into a bucket of salty ice water I looked around the converted loft and got chatting to people nearby who weren't already sleeping in their beds. The older man who had taken the last bed was a Canadian guy named Ardt who was in his mid seventies. He was walking alone and we marvelled at the mental strength to be able to do this trek alone. Not only would you lack an encourager but someone to share in the high moments with. We were inspired by his attitude to life. He was going at his own pace but he was getting there - good on him.

Finally it was our turn and we went down 3 flights of stairs to the bathroom. Actually having co-ed bathrooms made the showering of Aurelia much easier as it let us work as a team. Nick took Raya into the shower and as I stood waiting with the towel the shower curtain next to Nick's shower was flung open and my eyes were assaulted by full frontal 60 year old male nudity. I quickly averted my eyes and tried my best to repress the images. He dried himself at his leisure and thankfully was towelled off before Aurelia was passed out to me and traumatised.

I had seen just about enough bathroom exhibitionism for one camino, thanks.

Once Raya was clean Nick took her up stairs and I showered. Once dressed and leaning over the sink ready to brush my teeth the door to the bathroom swings open and lo and behold here is the guy I got to know intimately earlier in the afternoon. He glances at my toothbrush and with a look of horror starts backing out of the bathroom with his toothbrush in hand saying 'sorry, sorry'.

I felt like saying "dude I just saw you completely naked I think it's safe to spit toothpaste in front of me".

Changed into our relatively cleaner clothes we headed next door and had THE best pilgrim meal of the camino. AMAZING pasta for entree, pork for the main and tiramisu for desert - my perfect meal.

Washed, fed and now time for bed we were tucking ourselves in by 8.30pm. Thankfully Raya continues to go straight to sleep as soon as we put her in the KinderKot.

Lights slowly were turned off as people settled into their sleeping bags and finished journalling. All except for the Spanish people in the corner of the room. Once I finished threading my blisters for the night I rolled over thankful for my little orange best friends - my ear plugs.

Day 5 - Viana - Logrono - 10km

10th May

Albergue
€5

Weather
Overcast and threatening rain for most of the day - when the sun comes out the weather is steaming

There is a moment before fully waking that I enjoy. That moment when the limbs of the body are relaxed and the eyes are still closed as if the senses of the body are warming up slowly one by one. This is a lovely state from which you can easily slip back into your dreams if you have awoken to silence around you, or your bed is comfortable and the temperature right.

The parent of a young child knows that this semi dream state is left behind, long forgotten when toddler-dom arrives. Aurelia wakes most mornings with energy burning to escape her small body and if she has undone the zip on her Kinderkot then she loves nothing better than to crawl over to you and welcome you awake by picking your nose for you!

But this morning my ears informed me that she was still sleeping, my ears instinctively searching for the soft sounds of her regular breathing. However this dream like state was not to last as the assault on my ears was so disorientating I was forced to switch on my other senses to make sense of my surroundings. What on earth is that noise -is it French? Why are French people shouting all around me? Why does my bed feel so hard? And who has chopped off my feet and replaced them with burning balls of fire!! Where the hell am I ?

The answer to those questions was I was rapidly waking up, surrounded by people, on the living room floor of the albergue where we stayed last night. I was not in my bed at home and the hard tiled floor would explain the general aches and pains I felt In my hip and knee joints. Those burning balls of pain which used to be feet - I was responsible for those - a reminder to not bite off more than I could chew in future. Okay, okay I’ve learnt my lesson I promise

Apparently if you are a French pilgrim your voice has no volume switch and so you are left only to speak so that your voice reverberates of everything that surrounds you - my head included. My eyes go to the Kinderkot once again - surely I was mistaken, there is no way that Raya could be sleeping through this noise - an army mess hall would be quieter than this. Pilgrims observe me checking on Aurelia and their excitement at seeing Aurelia wake up only causes them to raise their voices in anticipation. I am sending a plague of blisters on anyone who wakes my daughter at 6am today and make it clear I want them to back away from her Kinderkot.

As I take in the pilgrims around me not only do I notice they are all loud - I had been sleeping with ear plugs in - but they are all dressed the same - in wet weathers. Seems that the sound I had heard had in fact been rain, and not ‘the soft pattering on a tin roof lulling you to sleep rain’ but rather the ‘torrential downpour that will make the path a mud bath today’ kind of rain. Varying assortments of ponchos parade pass Nick and I as we slowly start sorting our clothes - don’t they know it’s not raining inside - and the French pilgrims have the most impressive rain gear we have seen so far. Turns out this is because they have walked from Le Puy and for the 5 weeks of walking to the Pyrenees they had encounterd rain and mud every single day - hmm so the French are responsible for bringing this bad weather with them.

I start the slow process of bandaging my feet remembering today that my sister in law had asked me to take regular photos of my feet and blisters if I got “any really awesome ones”. Well these babies are redefining awesome!! After a combination of gauze, compede , elastoplast and electrical tape I put my socks on and squeeze my feet into my boots. This is going to be bad, really, really bad.

This was not the experience I was hoping for and certainly not what I wanted to be journaling about but a glossed over golden blog does nothing to share the realities of the camino experience and it is these realities that teach our minds the lessons from which the camino becomes so meaningful. Therefore the “warts and all” or shall I say “blisters and all” version must be shared.

The overwhelming feeling towards my body is anger. It seems that my body has a history of being reliably unreliable. Nick has always been fit and I on the other hand have a “please infect me/ injure me” sign on my forehead which is apparently irresistible to Life. This camino experience I had envisioned as empowering and uplifting. Instead my body and my mental strength appeared to have run for cover at the first sight of strife. Today I was worried we had bitten off more than we could chew and since it was my job to carry Aurelia if I wasn’t up to the task then I would be responsible for our family trekking adventure coming to a premature end. Never one to let go of a dream easily I tried to pull myself together to get my head around the walk ahead of us. Today would only be 10km and we only had to take it one step at a time. Small achievable goals was the strategy of the day.

Slowly pilgrim by pilgrim cleared out of the living room and it appears the silence is what wakes Aurelia from her sleep. Perhaps she too was slowly turning her senses on one by one and once the coast was clear she knew it was safe to make an appearance - clever peregrino.

We organise our packs (the speed with which we are doing this is not improving we note) and head out the door. At least we weren’t the last to leave today. A lady is sitting with her feet, soaking them in salt to clean her blisters while she argues with the albergue security man that ‘she doesn’t care if it 8am -her feet are not ready yet”. When you stay in an albergue you are able to stay for one night only and then you must have left by 8am the next day. We pass out the door with 10 minutes to spare.

The time it takes to get dressed, feed Aurelia, have breakfast and pack our bags has worked in our favour as now the rain has stopped. The downside is that the wet muddy trail has now become irresistibly boggy for our boots. We squelch slowly along the trail and try to avoid ending up on our backsides. The muddy track also makes it very difficult to find anywhere suitable for a nappy change for Ray.

The walk is mainly flat before a short climb before entering Logrono. The landscape today is not what we would term ‘inspiring’ as we spend a lot of time walking through the “Embalse de las Canas” which is a wetlands reserve. At some

points the ground is so muddy and churned up that we can’t see the footprints of earlier pilgrims and there are signs pointing in two opposite directions. If we hadn’t have met pilgrims who had walked this section before we could have easily rambled the wrong way.

With the I-pod on again and Raya enjoying being in the carrier with the cooler weather we see the first few signs to Logrono and console ourselves that we are almost there. I place a small pebble on the stone sign marker - my “’offering up of my sins” and the cursing I have done with my feet today, there are plenty to offer. As we walk under the motorway we see some pilgrim graffiti and shortly we enter the city of Logrono.

As we head towards the albergue we anticipate finding the location and having a small picnic lunch as there is plenty of time to kill before we expect the albergue to open and, as we have only walked 10km and it is only noon we anticipate most pilgrims will have walked on.

We see the street with the albergue and I am ready to head to the grassy river banks for something to eat. Thankfully Nick decides we should head down to the albergue to check it out. As we walk down towards the albergue, which is located on a corner, we hear voices. As we get closer to the corner we see that in the street to the side of the albergue a long queue of pilgrims have already formed, with at least 70 pilgrims waiting, and more in the courtyard area. Nick and I can’t believe it -we really have no option but to join the queue to ensure we have a bed inside the albergue that night. I silently curse the albergue experience and wish we were just checking into a hotel for the evening. The weather has now warmed up and we are sweating standing in the queue. No one is interested in letting me move in front of them to stand in the shade with Aurelia - some pilgrims true colours are showing.

As we stand in the queue hugging the wall and the small amount of shade we can find we see familiar faces in the queue ahead of us. Standing in front of us are a large group of German people. As germans walk down the street in the direction of the end of the queue they stop to speak to the germans in front of us -and then remain there. Now when this happens for the first time we think perhaps they were part of the initial group but as it continues we become aware that all these blokes are just pushing in. Who pushes in front of a woman and small child in the heat? Nick is gearing up to have serious words with the german in front of us (who does himself no additional favours by lighting up a ciggarette next to our small child).

As the queue begins to move I decide our standing and waiting is over and I push through the queue with Aurelia to the shade and seats of the courtyard so she can crawl on the floor and have something to eat. I ignore the disgruntled expressions from pilgrims in the queue. Slowly one by one the pilgrims are taken into the albergue to have their credentials stamped. The process here seems to be excruciatingly slow.

Nick enters the courtyard area with his pack as the queue progresses and many jokes are had at the size of the pack. Thankfully one pilgrim thoughtfully mentioned that a small child was waiting in the queue and one of the volunteers came out in the courtyard looking for us. She ushered us all inside, silencing the people complaing with a French tongue lashing.

The albergue here was large with well maintained facilities and they did their best to accommodate us with Raya by giving us the hospital room when it became free. However they are ultra strict at this albergue, the list of rules is long and they make no exceptions. Miss curfew and enjoy sleeping on the street without any of your belongings as some pilgrims apparently had to do.

Our meal is eaten in as I can’t walk to a restaurant. My feet are weeping and my socks were soaked when I removed them. I suspect that my toes are now infected.

Raya loves the attention of the dorm room set up and after a short bum shuffle away she bum shuffles back again - this time with a big smile on her face and her hands full of biscuits from the male pilgrims she has charmed along her journey around the dorm room.

We are both tired but we are thankful that only one of us is carrying an injury. Nick is left to do the showering of Aurelia on his own as standing on my feet in the shower I find a difficult process without juggling a slippery toddler. I say a prayer of thanks for having married a man who is such a hands on exceptional dad. I know that with such a heavy pack Nick must be doing it tough however he never complains and accepts it as another challenge on the camino.

The showering experience in the women’s bathroom is proving interesting. There appears to be some ‘cultural differences’ in how women from different countries approach the showering process. Without a doubt the Spanish women I encountered were the exhibitionists.

British women were the most prudish dressing entirely before coming out of the cubicle where other pilgrims waited to have a shower. I tended to put my undies and bra on and then jump out for the next person to have a shower, getting dressed outside. This seemed to be the most common option.

However the Spanish women would strip down naked whilst waiting in the queue, then exit the shower cubicle naked and remain so whilst brushing their teeth and hair. After a long walk each day this assault on the eyes was the last thing I needed.

The usual wash, eat, journal and sleep process is carried out and by 9pm another day on the camino is over. The female French volunteer has kindly secured us the private hospital room on the top floor of the albergue and we move our belongings up there and settle in for the night. The plan tomorrow is to find a pharmacy and see what range of over the counter drugs Spain has to offer it’s pilgrims.