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.
The weather leaving Pamplona was unseasonably warm and it didn't take long for us and the other pilgrims to be sweating like maniacs under the load of our packs. Aurelia was dressed in her UV50 protective suit and hat, with a light layer of clothing over the top, and did not seem phased by the heat at all falling asleep quickly again in the carrier after her early start to the day. My worries of how she would find the albergue accommodation the night before had proven unfounded and she slept through the night in her Kinderkot without a sound. This made her hugely popular with other pilgrims, many who had dropped by our bunk beds to comment on how wonderful she had been last night and wishing they could trade in the noisy snorers for a few more babies.
Walking along the path we looked to the summit of Alto de Perdon and saw numerous windmills. Jokingly I had mentioned that perhaps our breakfast coffee would be at the top – it was the last time we joked about windmills as the statement turned out to be true!! It was also the longest walk I had ever made for a morning caffeine hit
When we arrived we found the albergue hostelier was rude and unhappy that we had Raya with us but, as their policy was to accept everyone, he took our money and grumbling to himself in Spanish put us in the smaller dorm room. 
