Day 4 Los Arcos - Viana 18km

I have to start the journal entry again today about my feet since each toe has it's own pulse and I look like I am going for a pedicure I am using that much gauze in an attempt to stop the weeping. Raya is amused watching me tape my feet – thankfully it amuses someone and we caught her shoving small pieces of gauze between her own toes. Nick wants me to photograph the blisters for memories sake but I am not yet ready to see the funny side just yet.

Now I have had the average blister before on my feet – or as a child when you didn't wear shoes and ran around on the hot ground. Nothing, absolutely NO blister I have EVER had compares to the blisters overtaking my feet now.

Nick and I have the camino debate of boots or sandals. Teva's will allow for more air flow but have less arch support and a thinner sole on rough ground. We consult the maps, see the steep ascent to Nuestra Senora de Poyo and boots it is.

We leave the albergue in silence and honestly I was in very low spirits. Having to start the day in so much pain and knowing you have no option but to keep walking on is a real kick in the teeth plus we didn't get a caffeine hit before we left. I was cursing under my breath. This time yesterday my feet were in perfect condition and one day of pushing ourselves has created a wealth of problems. - and it's only day 4.

People say the Camino reflects life. The beginning people rush through, laughing at suggestions to pace themselves, travelling at a reckless pace,making silly mistakes and being overconfident.”What do you mean I will regret my actions – I am young and fit with energy and the walk is mainly on flat ground and gorgeous scenery – too easy” would be the words of the 'young' pilgrim.

The middle of the camino -the dessert 'meseta' represents middle age and the 'mid life crisis' that is meant to happen. The barrenness of the landscape that spreads for kilometres without trees, shade or water and the complete nothingness of that stretch only leaves a person with his/her own thoughts to contemplate. This internal contemplation coupled with physical exhaustion can be overwhelming and reveal more of the truer self than one may like to see.

The final stage of the camino is meant to represent old age where the weary pilgrim has learnt the lessons of the camino (life) accepts not all things are in his/her control and walks at a much slower pace in no hurry to reach the end realising that the experience rather than the destination of Santiago has really been the true highlight of the Camino.

Well I am proving this theory is true – and much to my own disgust we have walked the first 4 days of the camino like young adolescents.

Less than 2kms into the morning walk we meet a young Swiss man sitting on the side of the road. He is walking the camino alone, and this is his first trip away from home. We watch as pilgrim after pilgrim walk past him without a second glance as they race to cover that days kilometres. This is not in the true spirit of being a pilgrim.

The young guy, almost in tears begs us for something to put on his blisters. Aah we think, we are not alone in our stupidity and he too had been caught out with the terrain yesterday. We had at least expected the blisters to come at some stage and so had a comprehensive first aid kit with all the supplies ready to go. However this young fellow had been walking with his “fingers crossed I wouldn't get blisters” and so had nothing. Oh dear,when the pharmacy doesn't open till 10am and the average pilgrim starts walking at 6am – that's 4 hours filled with a whole lot of pain!!

We share our supplies with him -making him promise that when he buys his own supplies he buys extra in case he passes anyone in the same situation he was in – and keep going.

Raya is sleeping in the carrier – such a great little traveller and I suspect she is being bored to sleep by the monotony of the landscape today. The scenery is very much like yesterday and I long for a change in the landscape just to provide a distraction from my toes.

A distraction! In a flash of brilliance I remember that Nick didn't but I DID pack my i-pod. Thank you Robbie Williams, Beyonce, Beastie Boys and Beck. The music allowed us to set a much faster pace and finally I had a smile on my dial. I don't think Nick has ever been so glad to see an i-pod otherwise it would have been a painful 18km for both of us.

After our routine strip off of our warmer layers, Raya is awake and smiling in the carrier – she seems to really love the walk and sings and babbles along on my shoulders. We meet the S trio – three people from Sweden, Switzerland and Slovakia. The girl from Sweden had the same little figurines Raya had, on her backpack, and they were full of questions about our little peregrino. They were being lovely and friendly but unfortunately I was in no mood for small talk – sorry guys. I was hoping they would be at the albergue at the end of the day to apologise for being so anti social. We have noticed that there are really two types of pilgrims -those who like to walk alone and ideally in silence and those social butterfly pilgrims who like to walk in company and make small talk the whole way.

Raya is becoming a bit of a celebrity which we didn't expect. Everyone who walks past us – and we mean EVERYONE, wants to take a photo and people joke with us that she must be the most photographed baby ever. We think we should be charging!!

Aurelia laps up all the attention and starts waving and smiling at anyone she sees walk past, pulling her biggest smiles as soon as she sees the camera – she must get that from her father!! A large percentage of people comment on how happy she is and we explain that if she was hating it we would leave the camino and come back again when she was older as this is a family experience where everyone has to be happy – but so far,so good.

We continued walking taking short breaks to rest our feet and allow Raya some play time. The path continues across rivers, through tunnels and through a long ravine today with a descent steepness of 10% - going downhill kills the blisters on my toes. We can just make out Viana and Logrono from the top of the ravine – taunting us it feels from a distance.

As we begin to head down the ravine we catch up with people who shared the albergue with us for the night in Pamplona. We spend time having a lovely conversation with a Danish women who is a social worker in Denmark but unfortunately do not get her name which is how it seems to commonly occur on the camino.

We also meet up again with the short and very cute canadian from Quebec who has 5 children and 8 grandchildren. He is wonderful with Aurelia and she adores him and he champions us on at every turn which is great when you are feeling low.

We also meet a wonderful loved-up older German couple who we shared a dorm room with in Lorca. They always seem so excited to see Aurelia when we cross paths on the walk throughout the day but they seem to have limited english so the conversations tend to be filled with smiles, gestures to the sky and then hand movements to indicate they are hot. We copy their fan gestures and nod smiling – yep we're hot too.

There are also a group of French tourists that we met after our first day of walking, at dinner. We couldn't work out how the women all looked so well groomed when they had such small packs until we saw them meet their support vehicle today and drive the next section. Mmm that would explain the blow dried hair and the pearls then. Of all the people we meet on the path Aurelia loves this group the most. They all sing the traditional french song to her while she blows kisses at them. Without fail she cries as they say good bye and walk off ahead of us.

As we walk through the ravine we notice that all the rivers we cross have signs saying 'aqua non portable' which means 'not fit for drinking'. We see some people who haven't carried enough water risk it but there I no way we are doing that and Nick is thankful for the extra litres of water that have been breaking his back all morning.

As the ravine continues to punish us we are struck with the thought of how equalizing the camino is. It doesn't matter what you earn and what socio economic class you are from. Everyone walks the same path. Everyone sees the same scenery and there are no shortcuts for the pilgrim. There are tourists who may walk short sections or do bus tours along the camino but for pilgrims the walking of the camino and staying in albergues is a humbling experience. If there is any status on the camino perhaps it is reserved for people who have walked the camino more than once or who began beyond the general starting point of St Jean Pied de Port.

The steep walk out of the ravine to follow the motorway into Viana is finally ahead of us and we pause to ready ourselves for the incline. Some people like to walk slowly and steadily, some people like to take breaks halfway up the incline but Nick and I are of the 'hell for leather” style where we put our heads down and give it everything not stopping until we get to the top. Nick smiles at me as I take a breath and pop the i-pod in. My feet may be killing me but we won't be beaten easily.

I had been paying attention earlier in the day to other pilgrims who had overtaken us – keen to pick up any tips which would make the walking easier. Generally most people were having an easier time because they had teeny tiny packs on but I did notice one trick the Danish woman had which was to walk up an incline in a zig zag pattern rather than straight up – which reduced the gradient of the climb. Why hadn't we thought of that before. We decided to give her strategy a try and well she was onto a winner!! Using this method we were up the incline without stopping and with less pain than the view from the bottom had led us to believe we would feel.

Sometimes the Camino made us cry but sometimes we felt like the camino was smiling down on us. As we reached the top of the incline we had such a moment. There in a tub of ice perched precariously on the side of the track were a collection of beers and soft drinks – all for 1 Euro.

Never have we felt such love for icy cold cans of Pepsi. Quickly grabbing two and leaving the right money we scampered the last few steps and sat under a tree to catch our breathe and savour our beverages. Bliss. How quickly we had become grateful for just small things that we would take for granted in daily life back at home – cool drinks or water, shade and a stream to soak our sore feet in while we walked.

Here we met a young german man. He too was carrying too much weight in his pack and so had injured his knee. I was not alone in my pain, there were a lot of people who were struggling each day on the camino.

At 3.30pm we arrived in Viana – our 18kms over – to smiles from now familiar faces and offers to share their table and have a beer. With a promise to “be right back' for that beer we searched out the alberque. From the crowds of people we had seen in the town streets it seems that the heat and ravine combo have caused many people to call it a day earlier than expected and it was no surprise to be told, once we reached the albergue, that they were “completo” – full. We turn around to the sound of frustrated sigh and watch the group of 6 pilgrims who were waiting behind us walk away muttering about having to catch the bus. Some people have only budgeted on staying in the cheap albergues and therefore when the albergues are full their only option is to continue on until they reach an albergue with a free bed. We have budgeted for rest days or for Aurelia not coping well with albergues and us having to make use of pensions – and therefore having to spend more for one night thankfully for us is not an issue.

We follow her instructions and arrive in front of a large wooden door with a huge brass knocker on the front. Nick uses the knocker and the noise startles Aurelia. After waiting Nick uses the knocker again. We hear what sounds like turning locks and then a buzzing noise and are grateful that someone is coming to let us in. The buzzing sound quitens and then – nothing. No door being opened, no smile or friendly greeting. We glance at each other, Nick raises his eyebrows and tentatively gives the door a push.

The large wooden door creaks open to reveal a dimly lit hallway full of religious icons with the hallway branching off into a rising staircase and an even narrower hallway on the right. Spying a large day bed style lounge I take a seat with Raya and send Nick to investigate. Popping out trekking poles in the corner Nick calls out “Hello, we are looking for somewhere to stay' in Spanish. Silence. Someone had just opened the door moments ago – we can't be alone here. We hear noises down the corridor to the right and I see a man walk across the corridor who appears to have just come out of the shower. He does not acknowledge we are there and by his 'one sided body tan' we take him to be a pilgrim and not the owner. The woman at the albergue had told us that we were after a tiny spanish woman who didn't speak English – so Nick continues searching. In looking for a reception area we stumble across a room no larger than a pantry, covered with a velvet curtain. When the curtain was pulled back the tiny space behind we could see had been converted into a religious altar or small chapel with religious icons and figurines not all belonging to the catholic church. This did nothing to alleviate the uneasy feeling we were developing for the place.

Trying the ancient looking staircase now Nick climbs the stairs calling out a greeting in Spanish so as to not startle some poor old Spanish woman in her own home. Upstairs indicated they had no idea where the owner was.

By now the eerie silence of the place combined with the low lighting and religious icon overkill was creeping us both out. I called for Nick to come back downstairs and we decide to make a hasty retreat from this strange pension back to the well lit, noisy, crowded alberque where we hoped Raya's charms could convince them to find some space for us.

Nick wandered into a 1920s upper class ornately decorated sitting room complete with study desk and stained glass windows which were clamped shut. Like below, the room was dimly lit and the dust floating in the air gave Nick the impression that the room had been closed up for a long long time. Around these pieces of ornately carved furniture pilgrims were silenty arranging their sleeping bags for the night.

By now Raya is keen to be out of the carrier and she is starting to squirm indicating to us that her patience is wearing thin. We walk back to the alberque – the only one in town, and explain to the lady that the pension is full (well it MAY have been if we had been able to find anyone to help us). Looking at Aurelia the lady then offers us a place on the large living room floor which we accept. Honestly we were happy to sleep anywhere and Raya had her Kinderkot so she was catered for. The lady brings us down mattresses and pillows and blankets and as everyone is exhausted from walking in the heat and pilgrims normally turn in by 8pm for the night – the quiet living room floor was a big step up from a noisy dorm room full of international snorers. Walking up the stairs to use the one ladies bathroom in the albergue which easily catered for over 100 pilgrims – I see the dorm beds – with bunk beds three beds high. There is NO way I would have been able to haul my aching body up onto the top bunk bed and am even more thankful for my makeshift bed in the common room.

Returning from the shower we go about setting up our sleeping space. I look at our gear sitting in the corner. Nick notices the puzzled look on my expression and asks me what I'm thinking. “I don't know why but I feel like we are missing something”. Simultaneously the penny drops for both of us. Crap – we had left our trekking poles back in that weird pension. Nick wants to draw straws to see who goes back for them – yeah right buddy – he is going back for them and he knows it – his Spanish is much better than mine.

After 15 minutes Nick is back chuckling to himself and describing the whole adventure as surreal. I'm curious as to what has taken him so long when the pension is only 2 minutes from the albergue. Nick had walked pack to the eerie pension arriving at the same time as two middle aged spanish ladies. Nick buzzed on the door while the spanish women waited silently beside him. This alone is unusual for any middle aged spanish women. This time the door is buzzed open only for Nick to be met by what he described as a 'wild eyed Spanish woman”. Immediately they all begin conversing in “rapid fire spanish” with no acknowledgement of Nicks' presence made at all. Spying our trekking poles in the corner, Nick waited momentarily to catch their attention but with no acknowledgement and concerns regarding his ability to explain how our trekking poles ended up in the corner of the hallway originally – Nick took one step around the ladies, grabbed the poles in one hand and beat his second hasty retreat for the day hoping he had just escaped without being subjected to some spanish mystical curse.

Still laughing to ourselves we head up to the main street feeling that a cold beer with pilgrim friend is even more well deserved now. Raya loves being carried high up on her daddy's shoulders and enjoys being passed between the smiling women pilgrims who all stroke her blonde hair and squeeze gently her chubby cheeks.

Back in the safety of the albergue Aurelia falls asleep for the night by 5.30pm so going out for a pilgrim meal is swapped for cooking our own meal. Nick is becoming quite proficient at cooking different meals with three or 4 basic ingredients. I get child supervision duty because I can barely stand on my feet. People who spy my feet have looks of horror on their faces. Yep they are groutequely impressive!!
When shopping for the ingredients Nick met a man from Melbourne who informs us that the story of us carrying Aurelia has chinese whispered into us being an Austrian couple with a 4-5 month old. We wish, she would be so much lighter to carry! Nick wishes him “Buen Camino” and the melbourne man jokingly heads off to set the record straight.

As we settle down for sleep we discuss just walking 10kms tomorrow and as my eyes shut I think to myself 'I hope that isn't rain I can hear outside'.

Day Three Lorca – Los Arcos – 29km

Albergue
€9- with the room just for the three of us and a bathroom that we only shared with one other room next door.
Dinner was cooked by nick with supplies from a mini market or “supermercado”.
Weather
The unseasonably hot weather continues. The camino can often have snow at this time of year but all we are finding is unrelenting heat.

Exhausted. Spent. Pain – oh the pain. I am more than in a world of pain. I am in my own planet of pain with my feet having their own solar system of pain such is the gravitational pull of the blister on my feet. Yes you heard me, blisters – but I am telling the end before the beginning so let me go back to the start of the day – before the pain.

We left the albergue at Lorca “La Bodega de Camino” and began walking. When we had paid for our accommodation the night before we were told breakfast was included. In the morning it turned out “breakfast included” translated to 'here is a vending machine which makes coffee and hot chocolate'. Still something hot and sweet was better than no fuel at all so with Aurelia already asleep again in the carrier in her polar fleece jumpsuit, parka, mittens and beanie (despite the heat of the day the mornings and evenings were cold) we walked out the door to rejoin the path.

Seeing the space invaders art everywhere

I had best explain how the camino is marked for pilgrims to follow. There are regional variations in the markings however the colour yellow is consistent across Spain. There are official stone markers which have a indigo blue square tile with a yellow clam shell on them. Street signs can also have the shell symbol on them. However in between these official markers the path is marked with yellow arrows which have been spray painted onto buildings, bridges, trees and stones. The idea of following a path of spray painted arrows seems ridiculous at home but here in Spain it was accepted without question. We joked to ourselves that the reason we didn't see a lot of grafitti in Spain was because punishment was the job of respraying the arrows on the camino!

Following the arrows we walked through orchards of fruit trees before once again the path narrowed to a thin trail winding through fields of wheat. In the Spring the fields were lush and green however in summer they would all turn to a dull boring brown. Lining the paths were bright red poppies.

As we continued to walk – and laugh at the Spanish use of astro-turf for their fences rather than growing a hedge – I heard Raya making singing noises in the carrier. Aurelia has a keen sense of hearing and will often sign 'bird' having heard one well before we have seen or heard it.

Sure enough a pilgrim walked past us – a young guy – who was carrying a guitar. Talk about each person doing the camino their own way. He took a photo of Aurelia and told us we were the first pilgrim he had seen carrying a baby – we laughingly told him he was the first pilgrim we had seen carrying a guitar. He walked with a 'I have all the time in the world” pace and it was nice to listen to his playing float across the fields as he walked on ahead of us.

Continuing on we passed the Ermita de San Miguel Arcangel and then the gravestone of Mary Catherine Kimpton, a Canadian pilgrim who was hit by a car and tragically killed on the path in 2002.

Crossing some beautiful wooden bridges and dodging an angry horse on the loose we walked up the hill and down into Estella. We stopped in the local playground to change into clothes suitable to wear during the day and to have breakfast. Aurelia was growing fond of the sugary pastries which were available in Spain and we suspected our little pilgrim may be developing a sweet tooth.

After a turn together on the swings and 30 mins for her to crawl around and stretch her legs we continued on with great expectation toward the Fuente del Vino – the wine fountain!

Aah the infamous wine fountain which flowed with free wine for pilgrims. It was a symbol of the hospitality with which the pilgrims are welcomed across Spain. The fountain had reached legendary status amongst pilgrims who had already walked the Camino. We were expecting a few days more of walking before we came across it.

Nick had envisioned a Trevi fountain sized, “swim underneath it with mouth open” style wine fountain. The reality was slightly more humble but no less enjoyed. Provided by the Bodegas Irache wine company, the fountain was a tap attached to what looked like a metal urinal on the wall. Nick was quick to empty one of our water bottles and fill it with wine – to save later for a picnic lunch on the side of the camino. Aurelia was keen to join in the fun and held out her water bottle for wine instead we filled it with the aqua tap from the wall. Other pilgrims we saw had decided that wine was effective treatment for their blisters and decided to stop next to the fountain and drink their fill. Knowing the red wine would only slow our pace further (plus I was breastfeeding Aurelia so no overindulging for me) we bid the wine fountain farewell and continued on

The path was “undulating” which is the guidebooks description of enough ups and downs to make the muscles burn weaving us through vineyards and short but steep inclines. Before long the undies were back on my head – my unattractive wide brimmed hat didn't allow for en0ugh air flow – and I felt myself overheating again. As a way of coping with my overheating we named the episodes 'chernobyls' as it really did feel like I was having a complete mental meltdown and my head was going to explode.

We paused briefly against the side of a barn for short respite from the baking sun, only to hurry on again when a huge ferocious dog came flying around the side of the shed thankfully a few cms short of sinking his teeth into our legs courtesy of the chain around his neck. Aurelia happily squealed and said “woo woo” - yes she was right – it certainly was a big “woo woo”.

We pushed on towards the steep 300m ascent into Villamayor, 17km into the days walk. This was the point at which most people were stopping for the day. We were dying for a toilet stop – the open fields had not lent themselves to a discreet wilderness wee and we stopped into the albergue as everything was closed in the town itself.




After a short sit inside the shade in the cool we considered our options. Stay here in the less than desirable alberque or push on to Los Arcos. Guitar boy and Wolfgang had decided to rest here for the night.




Los Arcos was 12kms on, with no town in between so it was Los Arcos or bust. We considered our feet which felt in great condition, no hot spots no blisters. Great. We looked at the elevation on the map and saw that it was downhill the entire way. Excellent. We then discussed that if day 3 was meant to be the hardest and we felt this great perhaps we were in better shape then we first thought and made the mistake, I mean decision, to walk on to Los Arcos

As we left the town the other pilgrims looked surprised we were going to walk on, it was 1pm or so and most pilgrims were stopping for the day. As our plan to leave the albergue early didn't seem to be working, it was taking us forever to get going in the mornings we explained that we were going to try and cover some extra kilometres in the relative cool of the afternoon while the terrain was easy. The pilgrims at the cafe nodded their heads in what we took to be signs of agreement.


The first part of the walk onwards was lovely. We passed through vineyards and the trail was flanked by walnut trees. It was here we sat with our cheese, wine and baguettes in the grass and had a picnic while aurelia chased butterflies unsuccessfully in the grass. Barbara and Judy walked past us and we told them we would see them is Los Arcos, they hadn't liked the earlier albergue either and they told us Los Arcos was meant to be home to one of the best alberques on the camino.

After a lazy picnic where the time got away from us courtesy of the free wine we had saved from the fountain, we began walking again. Aurelia tired from her playing went off to sleep again in the carrier and the road stretched on. It was flat, very flat and as Nick' shoulders started to bother him we decided to alternate – with me carrying the pack and Nick carrying Aurelia.

I managed the pack about 3km before my knees felt like they would buckle under me. Nick was unbelievably strong to be carrying the pack the way he was –he truely was a packhorse. As we walked we played silly word games to pass the time. There were no other pilgrims on the path in front of us and we enjoyed this chance to walk alone.


7kms down and 5 to go my body started to tell me it wanted to stop – and soon. One glance at Nick told me his body was singing him a similar tune. Still at least Aurelia was happy. My feet started to burn and for the first time I felt those “hot spots' pressure points that people talk about prior to a blister developing. We decided to have short breaks but unlike before the breaks were not relieving the burning sensation and the pain in our feet when we recommenced walking felt excrutiating. It was a catch 22 – the pain made you want to stop walking but the pain of restarting walking after stopping was to bad to stop. Oh dear – we began to sense we had bitten off more than we could chew. Los Arcos – or bust !

We began to set our focus on a mountain or tree in the distance but the trail deceptively crawled around corners when it looked straight from afar so that the mountain you had set as your goal you now found you were moving away from.

We met three other spanish men walking with their dog Cora. Two of the men and Cora would take turns sleeping in a tent with the 3rd man going to sleep in an albergue. They looked like they too had underestimated the last 12kms. Yet since they had their own tent they at least had the option of sleeping in the fields.



With each step the pain increased. Now the knees and hips were joining in with our feet. The slow pace made Aurelia restless in the carrier and she had taken to standing up in the carrier and bouncing up and down. We were moving at a pace of 3kms an hour – snail pace. As the last kilometre approached I heard a strange wimpering noise and realised it had come from between my lips. My feet. My feet. My mind couldn't think beyond putting one foot in front of the other. Nick's face was frozen into an expression of rugged determination. There was to be no camping in the fields for us with a small child – we had to make it to an albergue – or bust. Please let it not be the bust we prayed!

Finally at 7pm we arrived into town. The first albergues we walked to were all full. I needed to get Aurelia dinner and put her into bed. Then I suspected I would pass out wherever I fell.

We found the albergue with the great reputation. Full. People came rushing around us to see Aurelia and the hosteliers were so disappointed that they wouldn't be hosting the “littlest pilgrim”. News of our arrival spread like wild fire as more and more people came to see Aurelia. I was ready to fall over and was in no mind for small talk. Embarassingly I suspected there could be even tears of exhaustion if I didn't get off my feet soon.The hostelero seeing our exhaustion pointed us to an albergue where he knew there were free rooms and we gratefully headed in that direction – crossing paths with Rob who had a troublesome Achilles heel and had slowed him and Jock down unexpectedly. They were stunned we had made the 29kms with the weight we were carrying.

Finally we found our rooms, organised food for Aurelia and put her to bed and then we showered. I stood under the shower as ice cold needle like drops of water fell on me and promptly burst into tears. We had pushed waay to hard and the cold shower was the final straw.

Composing myself I went back to the room and we assessed the damage. Aurelia was trouble free and her crawling was improving each day. Miracle of miracles Nick had pulled up with no blisters and after a bit of stretching his hips felt improved.

We glanced down at my feet and just looking at them hurt. The balls of my feet were entirely blistered and were burning despite the soak in the ice cold shower. Between my big and second toe there looked to be an extra toe which was in fact a ginormous blister. My feet were their own planet of pain and it felt like each blister had it's own pulse.The damage was no better on the other foot. The only reprive was that my heels had been spared from the blisters otherwise I wouldn't be able to put my boots on.
I popped the blisters and threaded them, took Ibuprofen, journalled briefly and rolled over to sleep.

The last thought before exhaustion took over was how on earth were we going to walk with my feet like this tomorrow.

Day Two Obanos – Lorca – 15km

Albergue

€7

Pilgrim dinner €9.50 (the meal was horrible and best avoided)

Gorgeous albergue with rooms that had double beds for a higher price.

Free internet use

Kitchen facilities with washing machines

Blankets and earplugs provided and towels available for €2

Excellent hot water and bathrooms like you would find at home.

Weather

Extremely hot – t-shirts, singlet and shorts. If we could have walked naked we probably would have.

Aargh – we woke this morning to suspect that Panadol & Ibuprofen could be our sponsors for the Camino. Naturally this was to be expected after such a climb on the first day. Our feet, shoulders and butt muscles were well and truly informing us they were awake -and they were not happy about it!!

Aurelia on the other hand had no aching muscles since she was carried and (unlike us on being woken)was full of energy and smiles for Jock our roommate.

We had planned a shorter walk today (only 15km) as people had warned us to pace ourselves for the first 3 days and ease our feet in gradually to avoid blisters.

We slowly started packing up our gear ready for another day of walking. Apart from Jock and Rob, and one other lady we were the only ones left in the albergue. People who were walking longer distances had started their days earlier and would have most likely left at 6am. We on the other hand,allowing Aurelia to sleep as long as possible only just scraped out the door minutes before the 8am boot out the door occurred.

As we stood on the doorstep of the albergue and wished Jock and Rob safe travels all four of us noticed for the first time that the weather was less than desirable. We just looked at each other – rain! Straight back into our packs for rain jackets, ponchos and gortex gear. Now I was glad that I hadn't been up earlier walking in the rain like the other pilgrims would have been.

We knew now that the path would be muddy and slippery now broken up by all the other walkers but there was nothing we could do so we chose to focus on covering the first 3km as quickly as possible so we could grab a coffee and croissant.

Arriving in Puente la Reina we found a gorgeous bakery along the camino path and ordered breakfast. A friendly Italian at the bar told Nick he looked like Hugh Jackman when Nick stood beside him at the counter – not in the handsome Hugh kind of way – in the Hugh Jackman “Wolverine' character kind of way – Nick's hair really needed a cut and was looking particularly wild this morning. I almost laughed my coffee all over the table. Raya happily read the morning newspaper

Lingering over our coffees we faced the fact we were just dragging our feet and so we hauled on our packs and began the walk. Leaving the town we crossed the impressive medieval bridge to walk on through crop fields. Here we met an elderly man who was photographing the bridge. He told us he had walked the camino many times but never seen a pilgrim as young as Aurelia. He asked to take her photo and now explained he was driving the camino and was only there for the 'romance' of the camino – not the challenges. I suspect any 'romance' in an albergue would be a bit of a 'challenge'!

The path continued up through vineyards and we were passed by several locals on horseback who looked at us with incredulous looks on their faces. The rain had given way to sunshine -loads of it and the ground underfoot was steaming at the water evaporated under the baking sun.

Today we would learn that occasionally our guide maps did not give descriptions which we felt reflected the nature of the path. Today ours read “the path continues up' and you bet it certainly continued up!!!

This was a climb not even worthy of mention on the guide maps -just a little surprise the camino had thrown us for morning tea. What an absolute killer – very short but 200m elevation on a fine,pebbly,slippery road. 

When we made it to the top we added a stone to the monument at the top and remembered the words of an Irish pilgrim we had met on the first night “there are no tears on the camino – you must offer them up for your sins' Oh dear, we would then be having a lot of hills to climb and that was working off Nick's sins alone!!

The path continued along through vineyards and the scenery was gorgeous. We met one pilgrim who was walking towards us. People in front of us shouted to her “you're going the wrong way' to which she replied with a smile on her face and spring in her step 'No I finished, I'm walking back from Santiago”!!!

We spent most of the day walking near a German man named Wolfgang. I have a little German and he spoke a little English so we made basic communication and filled in the gaps with nods and smiles .As it would turn out we would come to be very friendly with Wolfgang as he was one of the few pilgrims keeping a similar pace to us.

Wolfgang was in his late seventies and we first me him when we were walking out of Pamplona on the first morning. We remember spying him walking ahead of us. An elderly man in dress slacks, a grey short sleeve T.- shirt with a yellow bandana tied around his neck and a soft material cap on his head. On his feet were mens dress shoes – no Teva sandals or hiking boots. He had a 60L pack(which he wore without using the hip belt) and a pillow case he carried over his shoulder full of possessions. He had snowy white hair which only accented his florid complexion.

We saw him walking slowly and puffing along and we had both slowed our pace to walk near him convinced he was moments away from a heart attack and we would both need to give him CPR.

How wrong first impressions can be! We found out Wolfgang,who saw no need for technical equipment, just 'a want to walk and listen' had begun his pilgrimage in Northern France. His credential when opened was full of hundreds of stamps and he was probably one of the fittest pilgrims of his age. He would beat us to most albergues and the heat didn't seem to alter his slow but steady pace along the path.

The heat continued to increase and Aurelia played happily in the carrier. When we had food stops she refused to eat, too busy exploring her surroundings. Once back in the carrier there were frequent taps on the shoulder to stop and “juice juice' demands to be met as there was nothing to distract her from feeling hungry. As a result our pace was slow.

After eating Aurelia was lulled back to sleep by the rhythm of the carrier and I got desperate to cool myself down. My body was reasonably warm however my head was boiling. Out of desperation I ended up soaking a pair of black undies in water and wearing them on

my head. I said the camino wasn't glamorous and for once I was glad to have a slow pace and to not have this witnessed by other pilgrims. Nick politely kept his laughter to a dull roar.

Only 1km short of Lorca the Camino threw us her second surprise of the day – this one slightly more welcomed than the first. A cool stream flowing under the bridge we had to cross.

We scurried down the side of the bank and whipped off our boots. Aaah to be able to soak our feet in the cool water was bliss. We had a picnic here and Nick taught Aurelia to skim stones on the water which resulted in pearls of laughter. While we numbed our feet Aurelia splashed in the water. Nick and I looked at each other and again spoke of how lucky we were to be here as a family sharing this moment.

When the water finally threatened to turn us into prunes we gathered our gear and walked the 1km incline up into Lorca. We discussed a new family game plan. With the heat being so extreme (we were being repeatedly told by locals how unusual the heat was) we were going to have to rise earlier in the morning to escape walking in the heat of the day.

Arriving in the albergue we sought out our beds and hot showers. My shoulders ached from the 14kgs I was carrying and I had absolutely no idea how Nick was managing his pack which was well over 20kgs. I was not surprised when several germans who had walked past Nick today had looked at him and said “respect man”.

We were tucked up in our sleeping bag liners by 8.30pm knowing the hardest day lay ahead of us tomorrow but comforted by the fact that if we did survive the experience, our extra luggage and clean clothes were awaiting us in Santiago.