Day 9, Najera to Santo Domingo De La Calzada

Pilgrims waiting to leave Najera

Tuesday June 11

By the time you read this, a little time may have gone by. Internet links continue to be a problem. Today at Santo Domingo De La Calzada I can’t get either my phone or my computer to hook up. However, I’ve loaded all the photos into a folder and I’ll write this Word file ready to copy over when things start to work out.

After a long tortured day yesterday walking 30km from Logrono to Najera, I had a nice night and a very nice dinner, unexpectedly joined by my US/South African friends Martin and Lyn.

After a sound sleep, I had a friendly breakfast with the 13-strong Irish group and a couple of Australians, Frank and Karen.

Yesterday I was troubled by the blister low down on the side of my foot. In order to protect it, I’d walked for several hours trying to place my foot so as to cause the minimum discomfort. Unfortunately that aggravated the arthritis in the joint of my big toe.

I set out this morning with the blister well lanced and although at first the dodgy joint bothered me, I was soon joined by two old Irish girls, whose chatter made me forget my woes. The regular motion seemed to stretch out the joint and I felt much better.

I didn’t mention that it was a bloody freezing day (3 degrees overnight) and it was raining. I was better prepared than yesterday, when I was cold all day. Today I had a thermal layer, a T-shirt and then a parka, with my hoodie in my pack just in case. Even so, with the temperature holding at 10-12 degrees all day, I was never overheated.

The going went pretty well, the rain eased and I had a welcome coffee stop at a small town called Afozra, at just over 6km. I was walking slowly, so it was after 10am. I ran into Jack and Sharon, the Texans I’d run into a couple of times before.

When I came out, it was raining again. I trudged on, listening for a while to an audio book to pass the time.

There followed an area of supreme agricultural order, with fertile valleys and orderly crops.

My blister was giving me gyp again and I planned to stop at Curuena, at about 15km.

 

 

The town was a model of orderliness, with a golf course, swimming pool and lots of tidy houses, although the vacant sections were pretty well overgrown with weeds. 

Right at the end of the town was an old quarter and I suspected there might be a café there. (Turned out there was).

However, I was feeling a bit sorry for myself and didn’t want a fruitless detour, so I carried on.

I met up with a Mexican woman who lived with her family in Houston, Texas. She was travelling with extended family in a group of six, including her mother, who was 73. I didn’t meet her, although she apparently wasn’t far behind.

I finished up walking with another two of the Irish group into this town with a long name.

Nice old cathedral and I found my hotel, which is in a very quaint old building.

I can’t describe the irritation at not being able to get online. I find my typing/debriefing sessions very therapeutic and it’s annoying not to have the means. However, I reminded myself that my tendency towards hissy fits at non-productive technology didn’t serve any good purpose and went on with the other essential tasks.

Stab the hell out of the blister, which had found a subcutaneous layer in which to build up blister fluid – have a shower – find a beer.

I even went for a little walk, but it was freezing out there and I was hobbling like a 70-year-old cripple. That didn’t fit my self-image, so I came back to the hotel, which at least has a little bar, got a second beer and settled down to download photos and write this story on the off-chance that one day I’ll be able to send it into the ether.

The room is tiny, so I’ve had to set up computer on a bedside table and sit on the bed to type. But for now, I’ve said enough. I’ll read for a while and listen to the drunken wretches downstairs.

The dining room seems to have been taken over by a party celebrating something. There’s been a strong smell of roast meat and every time I go down there I see more empty wine bottles. They’re singing in a very tuneless manner at the moment – no doubt they’ll be gone by the time the dinner starts here at 7.30pm. It’ll be interesting to see who’s checked in here – you never know.

Something I forgot to add. The rooms here aren’t numbered – they all have names of grains and seeds. Something that will please my friend Ben and his daughters – my room is called Chia.    

 

And so to dinner. It was a lovely meal, but not a soul in the place spoke English - staff or customers. I first got a bottle of wine, some fresh rolls and three very nice chillies. For first course I had a potato and chorizo soup, for second some stewed rabbit and strawberries and cream for dessert.

The way it goes is that there's a set menu of three courses, but there's a choice at each course. It's a set price, but wine is included, and that pretty much means drink as much as you want. As it was only me, I did my best with the wine, but left a small libation in the bottom of the bottle for Bacchus and staggered my way upstairs. Unusually, they gave me a coffee too. The entire night was a bit expensive at €15.

Here's the day's photo album: https://photos.app.goo.gl/xBBcpDQri6MSxbPd8