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.
　

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.