Week 2
	Los Arcos to Fromista

From Los Arcos I should have stopped at Viana, but pushed on to Logrono, another cathedral town, still criss-crossing the N 111 main road. It was here that we posted our parcels, a complicated matter. The refugio was in the town centre in upstairs rooms. The cathedral was closed for visiting but it had large numbers of storks with their nests on the many ledges. I had a very good meal here with Lothar and Werner. Large towns are not much liked by pilgrims with lots of pavement walking and much traffic to avoid. Pamplona and Logrono were reasonable but Burgos and Leon later on were much worse. Najera was my next target, now criss-crossing the N 120 on a rather long and hot days walk. My one blister on my right heel had got steadily worse during the last three days, so when I saw other pilgrims getting treatment by a Spanish medical person I joined the queue and promptly had the large blister punctured and taped over. I felt much better after that. The refuge was in the monastery of Santa Maria la Real in the town centre again. Here I met again this young (very tall) German mother, Alexandria, who travelled 'The Camino' with her less than 2-year-old son, Patrick, partly by bus and partly with their 3-wheeled pushchair on foot. They both slept in one bed near me that night, and, quite unusually, we could hear a baby crying. In many refugios, as in this one, there were cooking facilities to prepare your own meals with food bought outside, which many pilgrims used. Tables and benches were also provided.

Pilgrim's crosses in Najera

The next day 24.4, I aimed for Santo Domingo de la Calzada on another hot day after a cool start. Here is the river Oja from which Rio-Oja (Rio=River) or La Rioja , the districts name is derived. Our refugio was again part of the monastery, and some monks were in charge. The cathedral nearby keeps in perpetuity in a special large cage a white cockerel and a white hen. Unknowingly, I saw a number of these in the back garden in their coop. Here is the legend: In the 14th century, a man and his wife from near Cologne were making the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, accompanied by their son, Hugonell. They stopped for the night at an inn in Santo Domingo, where the innkeeper's daughter took a fancy to the young man, who virtuously resisted her advances. Thus spurned, she hid a silver goblet in Hugonell's baggage, and the following morning denounced him as a thief. The boy was arrested and hanged. As his parents were preparing to depart they heard their son's voice telling them that he was innocent and still alive as St. Dominic was holding him up by his feet. They hastened to the house of the judge, who was just sitting down to dine on a pair of roast chickens, a cock and a hen. They told him the extraordinary tale. The judge retorted that the boy was no more alive than the cock and hen on his plate. At that, the birds jumped out of the plate, grew feathers again and began to flutter around and cackle and crow, thus demonstrating the hanged boy's innocence. The boy was released and the girl was hanged instead. The continuous presence of a pair of always-white chickens was started in 1965, prior to that they could only be seen between April 15 and October 13. I could not get very close to the live chickens in the cathedral as I missed the opening times. I met several new friends here: Susanne, a young nun and Martina, both from Switzerland, and Kathrin and Petra from Germany. There was still nobody from England in sight. I continue to walk solo most of the time.

Now leaving Rioja province and entering Burgos province. It was only 22 km = 14 miles to Belorado, an easy days walk, but it was very hot again. I had changed my heavier boots to lighter trainers, but found this a mistake and returned to my well worn-in boots after three days. Belorado was a restful place; as I had arrived quite early, about 2 pm. Time to wander around the small town, relax with a beer. I met Tobi again, met new friends: Otto, Marianne (Germany) and Andrea (New Zealand). Lothar and Werner were still with me and we shared a bottle of wine on behalf of my son Peter's birthday that day, April 25th. Many more storks here and a very friendly warden from Switzerland, speaking mainly French and Spanish. She took us to the evening service for pilgrims, when Kathrin translated for us.

Pilgrim's water fountain San Juan de Ortega

San Juan de Ortega, my next stop, was another highly recommended place to visit and find rest for our weary legs. It consisted solely of the church of San Nicolas, being extensively renovated, the refugio for up to 60 pilgrims in the monastery next door, and a small but very useful 'Bar /Taberna Macela' nearby. The village was some distance away. Very peaceful and very relaxing. The local priest, Don Jose Maria Alonso, dressed in civvies, was sitting in his car all afternoon reading the bible, oblivious to all around him. At evening service, more or less compulsory, he just put on a white cloak and carried out his duties, again giving us his blessings. Because of renovating work, the church was almost bare of decorations. Here I met Meriam the first time, a young devoutly catholic girl from Japan. Martina from Switzerland was impressed by Lothar humming or singing 'Amazing Grace' in German. I happened to have all 5 verses among my 8 hymns and also had 2 verses sung in English by Nana Mouskouri. So with this help Kathrin, Martina and myself went back into church at dusk and sung all verses and some other songs. That was an excellent diversion. It was known to us, that the priest handed out free garlic soup to all pilgrims after the service, but somehow, I missed that. However, I did partake in the free mug of hot coffee next morning. It was here that our Basque fellow pilgrim, Jose, aged 75 and only 2 months younger than myself, gave Lothar and me another foot treatment and punctured my large blister a second time. I had no problems after that. From here it was about 14 miles to Burgos, the largest city on my route.

There were three adjoining ways to get there. I took the middle one over hills and meadows with cows grazing, their bells ringing. Burgos presented quite a problem, as it meant a lot of tarmac and pavement walking. I caught up with Lothar and Werner who had stopped at a bar and after a welcome iced tea there, we set off together to find our way through the city for our refugio at the other end. It was a long, tiring walk of 8 km = 5 miles through the streets of Burgos We could or should have taken a bus or two, but we wanted to walk The Camino. There were very few yellow arrows here. We received different instructions from the locals we asked, which did not tally with those in my notes. We got lost several times, passed the beautiful cathedral in rather a hurry, without visiting the inside, as we did not want to miss a place at the refugio. There was still room for us, but in Burgos many pilgrims start their walk, arriving by train or plane. The Spanish warden lady here of enormous size (compared to me) gave each pilgrim a jolly welcome with a hug and a couple of kisses on our cheeks. Many old friends came together here and one new one, Maria, from Germany. We first met in the supposedly ladies shower room of all places. We did not always have separate shower rooms, but when, as here, the water was hot in one, and not so in the gents, I went for the hot showers. Quite naturally! We must have been about 100 pilgrims here. It was hot and sunny in the afternoon after a very cold start that morning. Very few ventured back to the city and to the cathedral. I did go, however, with 5 other girls (as bodyguard) to the nearest supermarket to replenish our food supply and prepare another vegetarian meal for ourselves. So, sadly, I missed Burgos cathedral.

Until Ortega we noticed an elderly lady pilgrim, walking solo, who we found out was either French or Belgian and supposed to be 68 years old. Soon after Burgos another lone lady pilgrim appeared determinedly walking on her own, but keeping up with all of us. This turned out to be Eve from Vancouver, aged 71, always wearing a skirt. On Sunday, April 28th, I should have gone as far as Castrojeriz, a long stretch of 21 miles = 34 km. On a grassy path on this hot day, I lost my glasses, never to be seen again.

Santo Domingo in Castrojeriz

Maria and Marianne wanted to try out the unusual refugio at Sambol, which I have described earlier. I joined them with 6 more ladies. It was another hot and pleasant afternoon and a full moon night. I was now getting behind schedule. Next day I passed through Castrojeriz and stopped for the night at Itero de la Vega near the river Pisuerga but not before climbing over some high hills and nearly getting lost again. Again I was first at the refugio, this one was run by the local council, but there was nobody to register until much later. A pleasant, small place with hot water and washing facilities, which I made use of. A somewhat small but tough looking guy with a bicycle turned up here. Not a real pilgrim, but a photographer with a video camera. His name was Jose, but liked to be called Jonathan, from Barcelona. He worked freelance to film The Camino. Later, I asked him for a copy of his work, which he has produced about 5 months on. We stayed in refugios together almost to the end. Marianne and Maria were still with me here and some of the others, but Marianne showed more and more signs of blisters and other problems, so when we met again next day in Fromista, Maria decided to push on.

Lunch with Maria in Castrojeriz