Early in my career I had the good fortune to work in Spain. One of the oil fields I looked after was near Ayoluengo, an hours drive north of Burgos. I never spent much time in Burgos if I could help it. Years later, driving from Madrid to Pamplona with the family, I stopped in Burgos, parked near the city center and visited the cathedral where we had a bite to eat. A few months later, I received a parking ticket for that stop. So Burgos was never a city close to my heart.

Today I spent all day in Burgos on my day off and I have to say I have changed my mind. It is not such a bad place after all! I did my laundry, visited the Museum of Human Evolution and went to a physiotherapist to see about my foot. Also had breakfast at the cafe I am sitting at now sipping Rioja for dinner, found the rugby bar and went to Mass.

The Museum of Human Evolution was focused on the archeological dig near Atapuerca, but had exhibits on Darwin’s journey on the Beagle, the commonality of DNA among all living things, all known pre-humans and the rise of homo sapien. While I was wandering through the Atapuerca exhibit I recalled one of the messages on a trail marker a day or so before that said “Deprogram your mind” in Spanish. Meaning, of course, take advantage of the Camino to rid your mind of negative or unproductive thoughts.

So I wondered, there in the museum, what if I deprogrammed my mind of all artificial constructs, leaving only those basic human characteristics that cannot be erased. That would take me back to somewhere around my birth, give or take 9 months. This became the thought experiment: how would I re-program my mind to live in our world which is so full of artificial concepts like money, borders, nations, etc. These are notions we cannot survive without. And now, to continue the experiment, how would Atapuerca man reprogram his mind to live in his world? A simpler task, I suspect.

The visit to the physiotherapist was excellent. I got his number from a lady at the coffee shop at breakfast this morning. It turns out he lives close by. The clinic was new and clean and Andres, the PT, young but reassuring. We discussed my issue (swollen ankle and pain in the shin) and then went to the treatment table. He massaged and worked my ankle, foot, shin and leg. He then used a technique called dry needle, which I had not heard of before. I am aware of acupuncture, but dry needle is more of a western medical practice which involves, if you are not aware, inserting a very slender one inch long needle into your skin and twirling it around in various directions. He did it in two locations just outside the tibia, one about six inches below the knee and the second about three inches above the ankle, where my pain was concentrated. I rolled over and he worked the back of my leg. This was a full one hour of treatment and better than any foot massage I ever got at Wat Po. And I got the pilgrim’s discount! So if you plan to be in Burgos for any reason, drop by Clínica 24 and visit Andres Marcos de Pedro.

By the way, thanks for all the great comments. I love to read them.

I was able to catch up on the queen’s funeral highlights today after a relatively early arrival in Burgos. The Last Post and the piper’s lament were quite moving. I have had similar moments along the Camino almost every day. But they are as difficult to describe as the emotion I felt listening to that lone piper. Anyway, she was an amazing woman.

The cocks were crowing as Lisa and I departed the El Peregrino alberge in Atapuerca which I would highly recommend. We had a tough climb over a very rocky path as the sun came up. I tried to stick to the goat path alongside the pilgrims path, but stunted trees next to it kept brushing my hat off. At last we came to Campañuela del Rio Pico where we stopped for breakfast. It was one of the best layouts of breakfast foods I have seen. The tortilla had tomatoes, onions and mushrooms and they had a large variety of bocadillos, or sandwiches made with baguette-style bread.

We had a much better path to follow now, much of it road and the rest suitable for automobiles, though there was very little traffic. We snaked our way to the top of another rise and there before us gleamed Burgos. The view gave us a glimpse of what the meseta would be like: a mirage! For as close as Burgos appeared to be, it receded into the distance as fast as we approached. The meseta is high, flat land and you can see for miles with a good vantage point.

Finally, we reached the outskirts of Burgos. Two hours later, we reached St Mary’s Cathedral. That’s a lot of outskirt! I walked for a while with a fellow from Madrid who kept muttering “Dios Mio!” wondering where it would end. I had to chuckle, although I was muttering the same under my breath.

Sometimes I feel that I am a very lucky traveler and my hotel selection in Burgos proved to be one of those instances. It is just around the corner from the major bus station and since I plan to take a bus back to Logroño the location could not be better. It is also 10 minutes from the Cathedral and 10 minutes from the Museum of Human Evolution.

Did I not mention that I was going back to Logroño? No, I did not leave anything there and I am not walking from Logroño to Burgos again. This is a planned excursion to attend a part of the grape harvest festival and to watch a bullfight. Tomorrow will be a rest day and the day after I take the two hour bus ride to Logroño. I will spend the night there, possibly drinking a copa or two of vino tinto, then return to Burgos and catch up with the Camino.

Lisa and I met up at the Cathedral and after a tour inside, we had a some wine and pintxos. Lisa really likes the morcilla, the local sausage, and we had several versions of it. Then we returned to St Mary’s for mass and the pilgrim’s blessing. And now, back at the fortuitously located hotel, time to listen again to the Last Post and turn the lights out. RIP, Lillibet!

Just a quick note today. Had a long 20+ mile hike today and suddenly the afternoon and evening are already gone and it is time for this pilgrim to get some sleep. I am in Atapuerca, near an archeological dig that has unearthed fossil records of the earliest man in Europe dating back a million years. It makes you wonder what kind of spiritual quest he might have pondered.

The Féria de Gracias in Santo Domingo went on all night. I wasn’t there but I could hear it in the distance from my room at the Room Concept Hotel. Maybe that’s why there were not many people up when Lisa and I set off at 06:30 am. Except for some other pilgrims. I know it was hard for Lisa to leave her room at the Parador, but we wanted to get to Belorado early to enjoy what the town might offer.

We are creatures of habit as evidenced by our daily routines. Every night before retiring, I make sure my backpack and string bag are packed and ready to go. From bottom to top, my backpack consists of spare insoles, hiking shirts and shorts, dress shirt, baggie with underwear, socks, micro towel (so far unused), laundry bag if I have any, tee shirt (that I sleep in) and toiletry bag, the latter two packed in the morning. In the string bag I keep a bottle of water, a bag of almonds, bananas if I have any, and an assortment of ointments like Aquafor and sunscreen. I try to have a quick shower in the morning and give my teeth a breath-cleansing scrub. I dress, including rubbing Aquafor on my feet and pulling on my wool socks and tie up my trainers, clamber into my backpack, sling the string bag in front, grab my Tilley hat, and I am off. Breakfast will come about 5 km later.

Breakfast consists of a cafe con leche grande and, depending on what is available, a tortilla, croissant, or toast, on that order. I will also eat a banana if available (gotta get my potassium!). Later rest stops might include another coffee or an isotonic drink. I have found that a glass of beer or wine is best left until the destination is reached. I fill my water bottle if necessary.

I prefer to walk alone, but I don’t mind a bit of company every now and then. Sometimes I will start the conversation, sometimes another pilgrim. And as we are all getting familiar with each other, conversations strike up easily and at any time. At first the questions were always: “where are you from?“; “Where did you start?”; “Are you going all the way to Santiago?”. Then the questions were “What made you want to do this?” and now I get a lot of “What was your favorite day?” and “What was your favorite stop?” And then lots of personal questions or comments – but there is an etiquette in how far to push these enquiries. Sometimes I get snippets of other conversations going on around me, some interesting and some that I am glad I am not on the receiving end of. Examples of the latter: a computer program that is easy to learn and difficult to master; the complete rules of how to play Nickels; all the aches and pains and blisters of the Camino.

My feet have been giving me some trouble over the past few days: swollen ankles, soreness, etc. Now here is an amazing fact: if I start talking with someone, I become oblivious to the pain. Then, when that person moves on or falls behind, the pain is very slow to return. There is an a anaesthetic quality to social interaction.

Tonight, a young Colombian priest said mass and gave the pilgrim’s blessing. Tomorrow we are off to Atapuerca, near the site of some early man digs.

Lisa and I got underway at 06:30 this morning. We had a nice breakfast in Azofra an hour later. We reached Cirueña 12 km later and walked right through without stopping. Soon after, a gentle mist turned into a heavy mist and we put on our rain gear. Mine consists of a Hefty trash bag with holes cut out for arms and head. Cheap, but effective, dries out quick and rolls up into a tiny package.

The skies cleared up by the time we reached Santo Domingo around noon. After checking into our hotels and resting up a bit, we celebrated Lisa’s birthday a few days early with vino and pintxos, and later some Rioja truffles. But our greatest achievement of the day was booking the last 6 hotels of our trek. Many pilgrims walk only the last 100 km of the Camino which entitles them to receive the pilgrims credential, so we wanted to get our rooms reserved early as they are already scarce.

The new King of England and I took a rest day today. I don’t know what Charley got up to but I visited the Marquez de Riscal winery and hotel for a tour and a tasting. The hotel was designed by Frank Gehry who also designed the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. It is avant-garde, meant to blend with the surrounding vineyards and the adjacent winery, built in 1858, but rather stands out with a flourish of giant ribbons. The trip to Elciego and the tour of the winery were quite a departure from the more austere and contemplative temperament experienced on the Camino.

The tour was worthwhile and the tour guide lively and knowledgeable, imparting bits if knowledge useful for those occasions when one opens a nice bottle of wine. The tasting consisted of three wines, a white and two reds, the latter of which was the flagship Grand Reserva. I still prefer a Ramon Bilbao crianza to the Marquez’ Grand Reserva.

The taxi driver who took me to the bodega was the son-in-law of a wine grower who was also well versed in the trade with hands-on experience. He explained how the long even rows of vines, like soldiers in formation, were usually Tempranillo and were harvested with machines whereas the older vines in uneven groupings were garnacha or mozuelo grapes and had to be picked by hand. In short, an interesting diversion, but I am anxious to get back on the trail.

I met with Lisa and we visited the Monastery, had a bite, and later met to go to Vespers followed by mass. Tonight the townsfolk are celebrating their fiesta and we checked out the band before returning to the hostal. We plan to meet up at 06:30 tomorrow for a rather leisurely 13 mile stroll to Santo Domingo.

All pilgrims must find their Camino pace. And this pace varies by day and by time of day. It can change depending on who you might be walking with. For example, my pace has slowed down over the past two days. My original pace, especially when walking solo, was too fast to be sustainable over the long run. It felt frantic. Life is slower on the Camino and my pace was out of sync. My mind was slowing down but my pace was not. What works in Texas or California may not be appropriate for the Camino.

For example, I departed Logroño with Chris, a Canadian from Vancouver who lived in Bangkok and picked up his tailor made suit from Jesse at Rajawongse at the same time that George Bush had his final fitting. We discussed how finding one’s way out of town in darkness is like a hash run (as in Hash House Harriers). But his pace was slower than my new slow pace. This is neither good nor bad, just different. I then walked with Scott from Detroit whose wife injured herself and was taking a taxi to Ventosa where they would stay the night. Our paces were practically the same. After breakfast in Ventosa, I walked with young Flores, a Belgian lad who prefers second division football clubs because they have not been ruined by money and high expectations, and Tiffany, from Victoria, who likes to drink fresh orange juice daily and whose son is getting married in December. Flores had a very quick pace, but by carrying on a conversation among the three of us, we were all three able to keep up, without feeling rushed. However, when I came to the big Norwegian fellow who had been in the south of Spain drinking too much – and thus decided to try something healthier- my pace slowed to his stroll. He had a parasol, was listening to music and was wearing flip flops. He was definitely not in a hurry. He drifted on as I stopped at a troubadour in a shady spot. He played what he claimed was an age-old folk song of the trail. He was a Woody Guthrie of the Camino. I then continued on with Jim, another Belgian, and again we had a steady not-too-fast pace. We didn’t talk much. As I came close to the end, I came across Hank, a South Korean who is on the verge of retiring and lives in New York City, but also has a place in Ho Chi Minh City, where his son and daughter are running a ladies fashion clothing manufacturing shop. I slowed down to match his pace until we came to the park just outside Najera where we rested, drank water and shared some almonds.

My pace will vary but my average pace going forward will likely be less than the pace the first several days. I think it takes everyone a few days to “find their pace” on the Camino. Hey, just like in real life!

Tomorrow I take a day off while waiting for Lisa and going with her to Santo Domingo de La Cruzada. I want to give my feet a good rest, along with the rest of my body. Tomorrow is the feast of the Virgin of the Holy Cross. We will see what surprises that brings!

That’s the name of the hostel I am staying at in Logroño. It is clean, newly remodeled, efficient (e,g. big drawers under the bunk beds, big enough to hold backpack plus a lot more) and right next to center of town. But I have not had a glass of wine yet. Too many selections. Easier to order beer.

The roadside motel folks were kind enough to give us wayward pilgrims a ride to the center of Los Arcos this morning, but too early to see the magnificent altar of the Santa María church. So, even after the best sleep of the trip, I was not in best mood. It did not help that 5 km later, at a coffee stop, the proprietor had a fit that I put some trash into his waste battery collection. I departed and began getting a little upset about the pilgrim graffiti. “Shine bright! You are the light!” I am not a light thanks, so don’t tell me what to do. “Follow Jesus!” I’d rather follow the Camino trail markings and prefer you not to deface them with your suggestions.”I love you Kevin.” Well, your settling for a loser. And too many more that I have tried to forget.

Things took a turn for the better when I came across Casita Lucia in the middle of a forest patch. Had a great coffee and felt truly relaxed when I resumed my trek. Then I heard bells ringing in the distance which actually turned out to be a guitar player serenading the pilgrims. Then, as I entered Viana, the penultimate stop, I noticed a barricade surrounding an area full of dirt and people of all ages dressed in white with red bandanas. Turns out the village was celebrating their harvest festival in the honor of La Virgen de La Nieva with an encierro, or bull run through the main street. Fun to watch, though the bulls were not as big and wild as at Pamplona. That evening they planned a capea, where they allow a cow into the barricaded area and let people go and play dodgebull and other games meant to annoy the poor animal. But all in fun and an escape, I suppose, from the drudgery of life. Boy, I was feeling much better by now!

Arriving in Logroño I checked into the alberge and then wandered around town for a few hours. I visited the Museo de La Rioja which depicted the changes in the region’s culture since Roman times. Interesting and right up my alley. I ran into a few familiar pilgrims and met a few new ones, mainly my roommates. No communal dinner needed here with all the restaurants and pintxo places.

That brings me to now, sitting in the Winederful and finishing this blog. Too early to go to bed and too late to go out. Ever have that feeling? Well, maybe I have time for one glass of wine.

Let’s start at the end of the day, of which Los Arcos was the destination. I arrived expecting to check in about 4:30 only to discover that my hotel was not a cute little inn in the center of the old town but a roadside motel about 2 miles on the opposite side of town. I was with two other pilgrims who had no reservations anywhere and we were hurrying as fast as our sore feet permitted to beat approaching thunderstorms. They went off to the local alberge. I wandered off the Camino onto city streets and then highways thinking my dying phone somehow had the wrong address. Then it started pelting down rain. I finally realized my hotel was part of a gas station convenience store. It helped little that four other pilgrims were staying at this same place with gasoline pumps our only view. Meanwhile, the other two pilgrims found a place in the center of town and texted me that they were eating paella and squid. A pilgrim must believe: the Camino will provide!

OK. Back to the start of the day. The night in the alberge was amazingly quiet once the church bell across the street went off-air at 11 pm. No snorers or sleepwalkers or falling out of bed. I was up and out the door by 6:30 and a full moon helped guide me on my way. I made good time before the sun came up, even finding a table with toast and olive oil with a sign saying “Para los peregrinos”. I went through Lorca and encountered two of my roommates, a couple from Puerto Rico. We continued on to Villatuerta where we had a great breakfast. We split up and I went to Estella and visited a few churches. Michener writes about Estella, but I am not sure what attracted him to this place. I must have missed it, but I did find a Supermercado to buy bananas to keep my potassium levels up.

I then came to the well known winery in Iracha where they have two spigots: one with red wine and one with water. You are supposed to use your scallop shell (which every pilgrim carries) to sip wine from. Well, my scallop shell was so small and so well attached to my backpack, that I had to come up with an alternative, not having a wine glass handy.

I should have opted for the water! The wine was very young, had seen neither barrel nor bottle and the bit that remained in my water bottle cap tainted the taste of my water for the rest of the day! Not good marketing. Later I met a local man who recommended Iñuriati winery, in particular a blend called Puro Vicio. It was a fortuitous meeting because he showed me a beautiful mountain trail whereas most people take a treeless path alongside the highway.

My plan was to get to get to Villamayor de Monjardin no later than 1 pm because it is an 8 mile push to Los Arcos with no rest areas or trees. I found a place where I could take off my shoes and socks and rest and cool my feet for half an hour. I was about an hour behind schedule but not concerned, even though the distant sky was darkening. You know the rest of the story.

Tomorrow: Logoño, capital of the Rioja wine country. I have a reservation for a place and I made sure it is smack in the center of where I want to be. Wanna know the name? Tune in tomorrow!

I’m a worn out pup. I’ll write more tomorrow!

Tomorrow I plan on 20 miles to Los Arcos, but I will porter my backpack.