Day 11, June 18th, 2023
I leave Logroño around six. It thundered until the early hours of the morning, I don't know how I would have fared in a tent. And just like in Pamplona, people from the previous night are still hanging around everywhere in the city, some still in party mode. I could hear their loud shouting all night, sometimes right next to the open window. So either every weekend is a holiday in Spain, or they basically party every weekend. Strangely enough, I also happen to be in a big city when it is the weekend.
My rucksack feels incredibly heavy again today. So much for 'it is getting easier after a week on the Camino'. Yeh, right. I am seriously considering sending my tent home along with my heavy sleeping bag and the hiking boots. Instead I would buy trail running shoes like most people here wear, and a lightweight sleeping bag liner, and then I would only sleep in hostels. But no, I have come here to camp! I am a tent hiker after all, looking for adventure! Something has to change though, because at the moment it is more of a chore than fun, so what can I do?
At a crossroads I finally take decisive action and throw away my two gas canisters, my pee bottle, two packets of instant soup (which together are quite heavy), my coffee and my collection of tea, milk, and sugar. I realise now that luxury doesn't work here and is only a burden. Coffee in the morning for example is a luxury. The goal here is to complete the journey, and thit is only possible with minimal weight. I suffer without coffee, but I can manage. I can walk ten kilometres without my first coffee of the day, but I can't walk ten kilometres with aching feet. And the faster I am by carrying less weight, the sooner I will get my coffee at some open bar.
Beyond a lake just before La Grajera, I see an old man with a long white beard sitting in a stall, stamping passes and selling pilgrim staffs and scallop shells, as well as biscuits and nuts. He is another legend on the Camino de Santiago, his name is Marcelino Lobato Castrillo. He has been walking the Camino up and down since the early seventies, and his photo hangs in many bars along the route.
Just as I am stowing my pilgrim's passport back into my rucksack, my polish friend Vadim arrives - the bloke who sleeps in churches und who gave me some of his food and drinking chocolate in Villatuerta, the evening before I fell ill. He remembers me as well and thanks me profusely for the cheese sandwich I had left for him. He says it tasted so good, especially since he is a vegetarian. I begin to think that he can't afford fresh food and lives exclusively on supermarket staples. Vadim tells me that last night he slept on a children's playground in Logroño under a roofed climbing frame, and that during the thunderstorm!
Everything changes in Navarrete
I would love to write something new about my feet, but unfortunately they are again hurting like hell today. In Navarrete I just take off my shoes and decide never to wear them again, at least not on this trail, instead I would continue in my sandals. A shoe store and a post office would be very welcome right now. Then I remember it is Sunday and although there is a post office just around the corner, it is of course closed. And I wonder, is it even necessary to wear any shoes other than sandals? At least for a while? I suddenly feel very motivated by the thought of shedding more weight. My feet breathe a sigh of relief in the sandals, because they can now spread out in all directions as I walk. It is almost as if I am gliding across the ground, I could squeal with happiness! Tomorrow I definitely want to go to the post office and send my heavy leather hiking boots home, and I don't need my mini-stove and mug anymore either, these can also be sent home. And who knows, maybe I will come across a sports shop and can buy a lightweight sleeping bag liner, then the thick sleeping bag can go home too. All these thoughts are giving me such a boost, and I know I am doing exactly the right thing. Just as I am thinking about all this, I pass Vadim who sits leaning against a cemetery wall, eating his supermarket groceries from a plastic bag. I wave to him as I walk by, and he immediately offers me some of his food again. Vadim is one of the few people I have met so far that I want to get to know better. I wish it was easier to understand him.
Suddenly the sole of my sandals comes off. Funny, I don't mind at all, I just sit down in the middle of the path and repair it with duct tape. A few steps further on, the buckle on my left sandal also breaks, but I don't care about that either as I still have some tape left. And as I sit there in the sand in the sweltering heat, singing to myself and completely at peace with myself, I realise that I will definitely finish this journey, no matter what.
Now I really need a shoe store.
I reach Ventosa around noon and see a café that serves food. I am overjoyed and buy a coke and a pizza with vegetables for the vitamins. It is just a frozen pizza, but that's perfectly fine. I feel fantastic, free and happy!
Then the path climbs again over scree, and the soil becomes increasingly red. Far and wide there are nothing but fields, trees and bushes around me when I hear the sound of music growing ever closer. There, in the middle of nowhere under a tree, sits a musician with his guitar and a harmonica. How surreal. He has placed a hat in front of him, a good moment for many pilgrims to get rid of their spare change.
I am talking to myself a lot today. I even talk to my sandals and tell them that hey will be retiring in about ten kilometres. I think you get a bit strange when you spend so much time with yourself.
Once I take a wrong turn and suddenly find myself in the mud in front of a tunnel under a motorway. Too late I realise there are no more footprints or yellow arrows marking the way. I check the route on my phone and find out that I have come 1,5 kilometres off the trail. So, back I walk clapping my hands - congratulations on three extra kilometres today!
Just before I reach Nájera, I find a shady picnic spot. I lie down for a moment on the bench in a small hut and rest. I am pretty exhausted and would love to stay here. But as I slowly sit up again, I see Flo in his brown robe coming around the corner. I am so happy to see him, and since I am also about to set off again anyway, we walk the last stretch into town together.
Flo opts for the first hostel we come past. Right at the entrance it reeks of cigarette smoke and stale beer - no thanks, not for me, I'll keep going. On the Camino app I find a hostel just beyond the Río Najerilla where allegdedly camping is allowed.
I already feel comfortable at the reception of that hostel. The young man behind the counter is a Frenchman with dreadlocks and very friendly. To my regret, camping is not possible here, apparently an incorrect information in the app. I am initially disappointed but then I hear the rumble of thunder. It is exasperating. In the eleven days on the Camino de Santiago, I have slept in a tent only twice. Anyway, this hostel is a lucky find. The rooms are very clean and cosy with wooden bunk beds. I go straight to the shower, completely stress-free, because no one is waiting for me to finish. I even have space to hang up my clothes, unbelievable! I feel reborn and sit down on a bench outside the hostel, munching on the leftover pizza from lunch. Not far away I see the rain approaching, hanging like long dark threads from the clouds to the ground. Only when the storm really breaks loose, I retreat indoors, once again glad not to be somewhere in the woods in my tent.
Distance: 29,1 km / Steps: 47294