A Camino Day

It's a Camino day

... at least in thought. Maybe it's because I collected up all the various guidebooks and travel narratives about it last night. I have to do a presentation on the the camino in January to the local ladies' reading group so it has been on my mind. It also has been on my mind because this coming spring for the first time in four years, I won't have the rhythm of the camino to look forward to. It's partly because we have finished it, there's little enthusiasm to redo parts of it right now and mostly because the dollar against the euro is so low that we couldn't afford it (1E = $.145).

I ran across this paragraph the other night in an online essay, A Pilgrim, but a Tourist Too by Denise Fainburg:

None of the guidebooks tells you that walking the Camino is something of an extreme sport. It lacks the cachet of, say, sky-diving, but everyone has a tale to tell of pinched nerves, fractures, tendonitis, or the more prosaic blisters. Each evening in the refugios you will see walkers tenderly anointing and disinfecting their feet.

Gee, I have been engaging in an extreme sport all these springs and I didn't even know it!

My feet sure say so. I have lasting effects from walking all those kms and miles. My left foot shows no inclination of completely healing from the plantars fibramatosis; the lump in the arch remains. And the tendon around my ankle that goes to the arch still cramps up. Even with orthotics and switching my exercise activity to rowing which doesn't use the foot in the same way, it's still funky.

But, oh, how I want to walk. How I miss it. The big question is: with what walk in a place that uses the dollar can I satiate that need? I still need to have a long walk to look forward to.

Perhaps I want the walk to know that I am still mentally able to meet such a challenge, to keep on going when it would be so easy to get on the bus and knock off 50 kms in an hour rather than in a day and a half. (In so many of the books I have read of other people's experience, the authors talk about bailing out and taking the bus or train... usually for health reasons, like being too sick to walk from ingesting bad water.) I am glad that I have walked every single inch of that camino, including bonus miles. So I want another like challege as a way of proving to myself that, yes, I am capable of rising to a challenge and finishing it.

[feet, day 2, May 2006 29.5 kms outside of Moissac, France, in Saint Antoine, a week and a half after I broke the pinky toe and fourth metatarsal.]

Article from the New York Times on malaria

DISTRIBUTION OF NETS SPLITS FIGHTERS

By REUBEN KYAMA and DONALD G. McNEIL Jr.
Published: October 9, 2007

MAENDELEO, Kenya — Veronica Njeri, 45, says she has “never healed” since losing two of her six children to malaria 20 years ago, and she still feels vulnerable. While her oldest are adults or teenagers, and have presumably built up immunity to the disease, she worries about her youngest, Anthony, who is 4.

A health center sign in Mwea, Kenya, says malaria kills 36,000 children under 5 every year.

But since hundreds of free mosquito nets came to Maendeleo, her rice-farming village in west-central Kenya, “malaria epidemics have become rare,” she said happily, even though the village sits amid stagnant paddies where swarms of mosquitoes breed.

Villages like Maendeleo are at the center of a debate that has split malaria fighters: how to distribute mosquito nets.

Recently, Dr. Arata Kochi, the blunt new director of the World Health Organization’s malaria program, declared that as far as he was concerned, “the debate is at an end.” Virtually the only way to get the nets to poor people, he said, is to hand out millions free.

In doing so, Dr. Kochi turned his back on an alternative long favored by the Clinton and Bush administrations — distribution by so-called social marketing, in which mosquito nets are sold through local shops at low, subsidized prices — $1 or so for an insecticide-impregnated net that costs $5 to $7 from the maker — with donors underwriting the losses and paying consultants to come up with brand names and advertise the nets.

“The time for social marketing of bed nets in a big way is over,” Dr. Kochi said in an interview. “It can become a supplemental strategy for urban areas and middle-income countries.”

Two years ago, social marketing was at the heart of a scandal when it was revealed that the United States Agency for International Development, or USAid, which distributes foreign aid, was spending 95 percent of its malaria budget on consultants and 5 percent on goods like nets, drugs and insecticide. Under attack from several senators championing the fight against malaria, the agency later announced that it would spend at least half its budget on goods.

Senator Tom Coburn, Republican of Oklahoma, called the new W.H.O. policy “a great move,” adding, “We knew social marketing doesn’t work.”

In practice, nothing much had been working. In 2000, a world health conference in Abuja, Nigeria, set a goal: by 2005, 60 percent of African children would be sleeping under nets. By 2005, only 3 percent were.

The theory behind social marketing, which is also used to distribute condoms and oral rehydration salts, is that the poor see more value in brand-name goods they pay for than handouts they get free, and that the trade creates small entrepreneurs.

The usual comparison made is to Coca-Cola, which reaches Africa’s remotest corners. But Dr. Kochi rejected that model, saying, “I’m not sure whether the poorest of the poor actually drink Coca-Cola.”

He argues that the insecticide-filled nets, when used by 80 percent or more of a village, create a barrier that kills or drives off mosquitoes, protecting everyone in the area, including those without nets. Individual nets tended to just drive mosquitoes next door, to bite someone else. As such, he said, nets ought to be treated as a public good, like the measles or polio vaccines, which the world does not charge the poor for.

Free net distributions are usually done in a week or two, by armies of workers who are paid a few dollars a day by the Red Cross or health ministry to cover a country or other large region. Distributions have been tried in Sierra Leone, Niger, Togo and elsewhere, sometimes in conjunction with measles shots or deworming drugs.

The new model is beginning to prevail but has not completely swept the field. Some donors still use some social marketing. Unicef, the world’s largest buyer of nets, distributed 25 million last year, of which 92 percent were given away, said its medical director, Dr. Peter Salama. The main American program, the President’s Malaria Initiative, plans to hand out more than 15 million nets by 2008, of which about 75 percent will be free, said its coordinator, Rear Adm. Tim Ziemer.

In June, Admiral Ziemer and the first lady, Laura Bush, who has made malaria her crusade, helped hand out 500,000 free nets in Mozambique and Zambia.

Social marketing may be useful during gaps between mass distributions, said Trent Ruebush, a malaria expert at the initiative and USAid. The best insecticide-filled nets last three to five years, but babies will be born in that time, or new families will move into an area. “We feel it is one of various effective ways to go,” Dr. Ruebush said.

Experiences in Kenya played a large part in persuading the W.H.O. to change its policy, said Dr. Peter Olumese, a medical officer in the agency’s malaria program.

Maendeleo, a village of about 140 mud-walled shacks with tin roofs, was part of a five-year study of 40 health districts. When it started in 2002, the only nets were those for sale in small shops, Dr. Olumese said, and only about 7 percent of people had them.

Social marketing was introduced by Population Services International, a large aid contractor. That increased coverage to about 21 percent by early 2006.

Then, late last year, the health ministry got a big grant from the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria that allowed it to hand out 3.4 million free nets in two weeks. Coverage rose to 67 percent, and distribution became more equitable. Under social marketing, Dr. Olumese said, the “richest of the poor” had 38 percent coverage, while the “poorest of the poor” — like Maendeleo’s rice farmers — had only 15 percent. After the handouts, they were about equal.

Deaths of children dropped 44 percent.

It also turned out to be cheaper, Dr. Olumese said. With consultant fees, transportation, advertising and shipping, social marketing added about $10 to the cost of each net beyond the $5 to $7 that Danish or Japanese makers charged. But even with payments to volunteers, the added cost of free distribution was only about $1.25 per net.

“There has been a paradigm shift,” Dr. Olumese said. “We need to use the momentum we have right now.”

Between the giveaways, he said, nets should be handed out free to all pregnant women and mothers who visit health clinics. Some women struggle to afford even the 10 cents per child cost of identity cards that let them visit clinics. “Asking a mother to make a decision to feed her child or buy a net is not fair,” he said.

In Maendeleo, a village elder, Benson Gacu, confirmed that price was a major impediment. “Our people are poor, and very few could afford to buy a mosquito net even for 50 shillings,” or about 75 cents, he said. “We are happy that the nets are free.”

Francis Mureithi, a local shopkeeper, said he still had some 50-shilling nets for sale because the government had given free ones only to families with children under 5.

But, Mr. Mureithi noted, sales of malaria pills were way down.

Reuben Kyama reported from Maendeleo, Kenya, and Donald G. McNeil Jr. from New York.

Burgos - Hornillos del Camino

Day 8 — 20 kms

We slept in this morning until 7.30, then splurged on breakfast (7 euros, yikes, but it was well worth it because it gave us food for snacks, too): croissant, ham, bread, orange juice, coffee.

On our way out of town (late! we left at 10.00) we stopped at the farmacía for antihistamenes, and more tape for my foot and toes. We walked past the cathedral and, as we went by a column nearby, a stork atop lost two feathers. Since they are considered to be lucky, I grabbed them up and stuck them in my backpack in the side pouch by the plastic I have rolled up for the times when we need to sit on the ground.


On the way out of Burgos, we passed this church that had this amazing stork condo. It was pretty funny to see.


We went past the law school at the former Hospital del Rey, an elegant 16th-century complex. Then the camino took us through construction for the University of Burgos — tons and tons of apartment buildings, classroom buildings. We went through a HUGE future housing development — the infrastructure (lights, roads, parking) were all in but as of now, no buildings are up. The camino did nothing that was on our maps — we were supposed to be over to the left somewhere on the other side of the railroad tracks but we were clearly heading to the right away from them. This was one of these times when there was no point consulting the maps; I shoved mine into my pants pocket and simply followed the yellow shell/blue background markers.


The route had us meander through/around more wheat fields (oh my poor watering eyes) when it would have been so easy to cut straight across, but nooo... we ended up under a bridge for a four-lane highway that led into a tunnel. On the first pillar was this sign:

Pilgrims — please excuse this small detour. May the searches of your infinite wanderings become reality. The Arlanzón river and we say to you: ¡Ultreya!

That sign nearly made me burst into tears because I had been mulling over something while walking through the detours. It truly seemed to be a message from God.


We stopped in Tardajos for lunch. The restaurant even advertised my favourite power lunch: two fried eggs, fries, bread. Add in a glass of red wine and I am good for walking. After lunch we went uphill. The day was getting quite hot.


The camino took us up between two ridges which lead us to the alteplano. Here we saw far-off views and it was windy, windy with racing clouds, really quite dramatic.


The alteplano gives the pilgrim BIG views. I was intrigued by the lone tree on an otherwise desolate landscape.



Another view from the alteplano before descending into Hornillos del Camino, a tiny town with one store almost across the street from the casa rural where we stayed and a crowded bar-restaurant (the only game in town so we had a 30-minute wait, along with a bunch of other pilgrims). We shared our table with a young German pair (not a couple, however).

The shower in our room is a hoot. The young owner of the casa rural is so pleased with it: it has massage nozzles, mirrors all over (oh dear), a radio with speakers and an overhead light. None of us was able to figure out how it all worked but we were glad for the good water pressure at the end of our walking.

Atapuerca - Burgos

Day 7 — 20.5 kms

As written above, we'd been following horses. Finally, we got to see them as they were staying at the same hostal as we were. It seems like quite an involved process to get the horses saddled up with all the people's gear. The people (from France) took about 20 minutes to get everything ready.

It was a misty, overcast and grey morning when we set out.

It was cool enough in the morning when we set out that Compa decided to dig down into her pack and get gloves. We went up to the top of this hill, the Sierra de Atapuerca, where we found that someone had left a sofa (the second one we'd seen on the camino!). We walked past a cross and then we saw the plain ahead of us with Burgos still 18 kms away, 18 very LONG kms away.

As far as shots of our walking, from this point on, it was pretty grim. We went down the hill, with a mining firm and cell towers off to the right. When we got to the bottom, we went through two little villages (where I stopped to tape my arch because it was hurting and tape the blisters that were really bugging me) and then crossed the highway, the A-1. We had the choice of going two ways: we went left, through a construction site (or something like that — there were dump trucks all over). At one point, there was a lagoon and the only way to go forward was to unch ourselves like crabs along a chain link fence, walking on a three-inch wide strip of concrete while hanging onto the fence. I wish we had a photo of that. The fence went around the perimeter of the airport. Then we walked through non-descript burbs for 5kms until we finally hit the main drag, the Calle Victoria, that led us to our hotel, the España, a funky 1930s hotel.

My maps didn't correspond to anything we walked once we came down off the summit ridge. Such is life on the caminio. And my eyes watered like crazy today — from pollution or wheat or both?

Three years ago when we took the bus and train from Estella to Leon to Astorga to Rabanal, we had about an hour in Burgos. Compa's knees had gotten afflicted with tendonitis, so we didn't trek from the railroad station to see the cathedral which, in Guide Michelin terms, is 'worth a detour.' The Camino takes one right past it on the plaza (this shot is taken from a 16th-century gate). One now has to pay to get into the cathedral, but with the pilgrim's credential, it's one euro. It is well worth the cost.

This upward shot is of a side chapel in the cathedral. Truly the cathedral's trademark has to be these perforated towers that let in light between the gothic ribs. Extraordinary!

In the west end of the cathedral, way up high on the south wall, one finds a clock with a jester. It still works. Note to its side another smaller set of bells. Since it was so high up and we didn't spend all afternoon there, I am not sure if the larger clock is for the hours and the smaller one for the minutes.

One characteristic of Spanish cathedrals is the choir which always is in the middle of the cathedral nave. It is hard to see from the west end to the east end because the choir breaks the view. To the right of this photo, looking up into the crossing tower, you can make out the cross from the choir reredos.

This is the crossing of the cathedral. It is absolutely amazing to see the light through the central tower. No wonder they call this cathedral 'diaphonous.'

After visiting the cathedral, we went to the mobile phone store to find out how to get messages off our Spanish cell phone and then I went to a smokey cibercafe to write a post to this blog. Then, before retiring, we said goodbye to the Colombian/Australian couple.

That is part of life on the camino: you meet people, walk with them or bump into them for a while, and eventually lose them because their schedule doesn't correspond to yours. We left a lot of people behind in Burgos because they were taking a day off (which we didn't) and picked up a whole new crowd.

Belorado-Atapuerca

Day 6 — 30.4kms

We got up and out with another good breakfast of croissant, fresh squeezed orange juice (zumo de naranja) and coffee. The morning was cool and overcast, the way we like it.

Once out of town it was pretty flat, walking on a dirt path by a river and, after
we crossed it, on a muddy dirt track which ran parallel to but not right next to the N120. Four kms later, we got to Tosantos where I took this photo of a fountain with a neat cross on the top of a pole.

Right out of town as Compa went to photograph the Ermita de la Virgen (across the way and in the cliffs), she had a panic attack, thinking she had left the battery charger in the hotel 5 km behind us. We started to think of how we could get back there, how much time it would take out of the day and then I remembered that I had unplugged it and given it to her the night before because I also feared we would leave it behind. Beyond that, I couldn't remember what we'd done with it so I took apart my pack and there it was (I carry it). A major crisis averted.

We walked on a ridge in open fields, lots of sun and hard, hard wind. It was really blowing hard, almost small craft warning strength. We saw lots of large vistas. We went along fields and then down a hill past a ruin of a 9th century monastery.

In Villafranca Montes de Oca, the guide said there were three restaurants, one at the far end of town. So we walked past the first two restaurants that were full of pilgrims, got to the turn-off for the camino and found that the third restaurant wasn't. We didn't feel like backtracking, so just before slogging up a STEEP and very muddy road, we sat down on the sidewalk, had a snack and I worked on the blister on my pinky toe.

We could have bypassed the mud wallow if we had taken the street on which we were sitting but we didn't figure that out until we got up above it. It connected with the muddy path and the paved street turned into a dirt road that went up and up and up until we were in a large grove of oaks and then later pine trees. We'd entered a wonderful eco-reserve in the oldest mountains of Spain.

The sign describes the flora and fauna up on top, identifies the various mountains and gives a description of all the creatures that inhabit the eco-reserve. There are wolves, fox, deer, wild cats and all sorts of animals and birds. It seemed wild up on top there, with all the trees and the WIND that was blowing us backwards, until we connected back up with the N120 and a stupid ATV driver who went by us twice, stirring up the ground and disturbing the quiet.

We came downhill out of the wind for a moment and sat down by a brook for cheese, bread, cherry lunch. A Danish walker, and two other Scandinavians joined us, offering us wine and chocolate but we declined their kind offer. We would bump into the Danish walker off and on for the next week.

Then we went straight uphill again and walked for ever it seemed on a wide open track through pine woods with all sorts of different flowers. It was long and it started to rain so we ducked into the woods to put on all the rain gear. Though gentle, this part seemed to go on and on so it was a surprise when all of a sudden we found ourselves coming out of the forest, down a hill and into San Juan de Ortega.

There in San Juan is a hostel, restaurant and a beautiful gothic church that was open (!), with San Juan's tombstone. Even though the signs said that one should be quiet, I sang my usual Veni Creator Spiritus. It has nice acoustics.

We spent an hour in the crowded bar having a beer/glass of red wine and talking with a couple: he's Australian, she's Colombian, they live in Australia for right now and decided to do the Camino as a sort of in-between place. We would bump into them again in Burgos.

Then we walked the last six kms to Atapuerca. We were out in open space again with this fierce wind blowing in our faces.

To the west it was clear, to the north it was stormy. It's not easy to make out in the photo but there was a big wind farm in the distance. The use of wind turbines in Spain is impressive.

The last six kms were hard. My feet were hurting: I am working on two huge blisters on my pinky toes, blisters on top of blisters. There's a nascent blister on my left heel, too in about the same spot where I got the deep, deep one last year that eventually got infected. I was also tired and lordy my eyes were windburned. We dinked along until we got to Atapuerca.

We had to take a photo of the Medusa who arrived at the nice hostel (a redone old house) with good food and friendly hosts (lots of political commentary as they watched the returns for mayoral elections in Spain).

Atapuerca is the home of the being that links the two family trees of Homo Sapiens and Neanderthall, about 250.000-350.000 BCE. They have found bones up on a plateau which one can visit. We couldn't do that but we did visit the exhibition hall. It has many artifacts from the site including bones, pots, arrowheads and other stone implements. It is pretty wild to be on a medieval pilgrimage route that crosses a history far more distant than the 8th-12th century.

Santo Domingo — Belorado

Day 5, 23.5 kms

Photowise, this was a quiet day. More will come along, but I need to get them off my laptop. Check back later.

We got off later than intended, stopped for coffee and croissant and finally took off at 8.00. Fifteen minutes out of town, it started to rain so we had to stop and put on all our rain gear, costing us yet more time.

We walked through rolling hillsides all of wheat, almost 'big' and dramatic skies. It was relatively good walking, though because it was overcast and not hot.

We stopped for water in Grañon, a small town and the café bar didn't have a WC (it was a long day in that regard). It was still drizzling on our way out of town. We went through a huge mud wallow and then up a long, rolling hill at the top of which we found the sign at the border of the department of La Rioja and Castille y León (where one stays until Galicia). Compa is standing by the sign which has a map of the Camino. (Within the department are provinces and we went through several.)

We went down a long hill into Redecilla del Camino where we had been looking forward to lunch in a restaurant but it was closed so we bought yet another chocolate croissant, some bread and sat outside and talked with a woman from Germany.

We then trudged up a long hill on pavement. We're now out of vineyard country — it's just wheat on rolling, vast hills, which is pretty in its own way.


We went through many small towns, all very quiet. My big event was scratching two friendly cats on their backs. They were a good diversion.

The rest of the afternoon was spent on a dirt track next to the N120 (one follows this road off and on for ever). It wasn't horrible, nor was it great. We were still in rolling hills of wheat (!).

Then we dropped down into Belorado.

We walked by this church as we were hunting for our hotel (well past the hostel). As you can see, there are more storks and their nests. This is a multi-nest condo.

Our hotel, the Jacobeo, is a nice one, an 1850s building that has always been a hotel. I had a good bath and a nap (I couldn't budge) and then we went out for dinner (on a cool evening).

We're back in the part of Spain that does a great ensalada mixta: greens, carrots, corn, hard-boiled egg, tuna, tomato, asparagus (often white), olives and whatever else they like to throw in. This is just the first course but it is terrific. I look forward all day to it.

Our waitress spoke only a little Spanish; she finally said, Soy Roma — I am a gypsy. This all came about because we wanted to make sure she would get her tip (which is not a required thing).

The fun part of the evening came after dinner: we stumbled upon a group of very celebratory 30 year-olds. Apparently they all decided on ONE day that they would celebrate their birthday. So everyone in town born in 1977 got together to party and so they did. They all had on green t-shirts that read, 'I am not 30; I am 18 with 12 years of wisdom.' They had a local band that played tunes and they all marched around the plaza before taking over the bandstand. They tried to get us to join them but we opted not. Later on the folks born in 1982 (the 25 year-olds) came along with their band and they had a little competition. I asked if the 50 year-olds (my age) had such a party, and the answer was yes.


There were a bunch of kids running around in a group. It was fun to watch them, all caught up in the excitement of the night, and also poignant to think that in many years they, too, would be doing the same thing some day perhaps: celebrating their 25th or 30th with the next generation of kids zooming around in circles.

It was fun to tap into the local life, to remember that this camino wends its way through towns that still have their life that is not dependent on a bunch of pilgrims.

A word about our lodgings: we are not doing the hard-core, tough-it-out pilgrim routine of staying every night at albergues (hostels). Maybe it's our respective ages, though loads of people older than us stay at the albergues, but frankly, we like to have our own room for the three of us, a hot bath without having to wait in line and an easy place to do our nightly laundry. We sleep better for it (only one person snores, me, rather than an entire chorus) and, therefore, stay healthier, I suspect. We don't struggle with the 'purity' or 'sacrifice' of the pilgrimage — walking as much as we do every day is plenty. Besides, we 'carry our house on our back': everything we have is in our backpacks (about 12kg including water); we don't ship them on ahead of us; we lug them and walk with the extra weight. Likewise, two of us like to have our three-course dinners at the end of the day. It's our reward :)

Nájera-Santo Domingo de la Calzada

Day four — 21.3 kms


This was a short day for which we were glad because it got so hot in the middle of the day and we were walking through an endless new burb. More on that later.

First thing in the morning was climbing uphill out of the Nájera downtown over the ridge that separated it from the ever-closer alteplano (though we were not nearly there). On the other side of the ridge, we walked past vineyards interspersed with poppies. We also started going by big cement irrigation channels that ran alongside the vineyards.


Compa took this wonderful photo of the poppies that grow between the rows of vines. The soil here is so, so red.




Unlike some of the walking the Chemin de Saint Jacques in France where we went up and down in river valleys and never had a sense of where we were going, more often than not, we had a very clear idea of where we were headed — usually quite far away. This vista was one of those 'onwards' shots, where we knew that we would follow that white ribbon for as far as the eye could see and then some. Oh my, look at all that WHEAT (as I wrote in my journal: 'nice landscape, rolling hills, wheat and wheat and wheat!')




Noon found us climbing up a hill to a golf course/high income suburb development, Ciruñuela. The heat was brutal and there were NO trees anywhere for shade. There didn't seen to be any place to eat either. We had a few things to eat but what we really, really wanted was a cold beer. Once we passed through this empty construction site that looked as though it could house 10.000 people, we landed on a small local village, totally eclipsed by the growth. There, we found the local bar-restaurant and while the food was a bit greasy, it had cold beer and free internet. It was from here that I sent this posting. I shared the space with a Frenchman. I really couldn't see what I was doing and being a Mac user, I am always at a disadvantage with a PC, so I had to ask for a little help.

A word about the white shirt. It was brutally hot that day and the sun shone brightly. From that day on, I no longer wore short-sleeve shirts but wore a light-weight white cotton shirt to protect my skin from the sun. At that, even with SPF 35 on my hands, they got burned and tanned. I upped the lotion to SPF 50 and still I burned and tanned. So the shirt seemed a small sacrifice in the comfort zone to stay a bit more healthy in the long, long run.


Finally, we got to Santo Domingo de la Calzada, known for its holy chickens. The story is one of those crazy medieval ones that has now stuck.

Dana Facaros and Michael Pauls in the Cadogan Guide to Northern Spain write of the holy chickens in their Gothic cathedral:

'The Gothic interior is simple but lavishly decorated, but what everyone remembers best are the rooster and hen, cackling in their own late-Gothic henhouse. Their presence recalls the miracle that took place in Santo Domingo's hostal: a handsome 18-year-old German pilgrim, named Hugonell, travelling with his parents, refused the advances of the maid, who avenged herself by planting a silver goblet in his pack and accusing him of theft. Hugonell was summarily hanged by the judge while his parents sadly continued Compostela. On the way back, they passed the gallows and were amazed to find their son still alive and glad to see them, telling them it was a miracle of Santo Domingo. They hurried to the judge and told him; the judge, about to dig into a pair of roast fowl, laughed and said their son was as alive as the birds on his table, upon which both came to life and flew away. Since then, a white hen and rooster have been kept in the church, and are replaced every month; pilgrims would take one of their feathers and stick in it their hats for good luck. Under the window you can even see a piece of the gallows (138).'

The administration doesn't allow photos inside the cathedral but the image I grabbed from the web shows the glorified henhouse well. There are other treasures in the cathedral, too: a beautiful 12th-century Madonna and child behind the high altar in a nice and simple chapel. The 16th-century tomb of Santo Domingo is also amazing: a two-storey affair, one can look down into the crypt to the lower level of the tomb which also serves as a small chapel.

Kerry Egan writes of this in her Fumbling,

'The Holy Chickens made me very happy, almost irrationally happy. They seemed to make everyone happy. In the stores in town, a dozen different postcards with the images of the chickens could be found. Some were taken from a distance, with the entire chicken coop edifice on golden display, and some were close-ups of the chickens' faces in profile, like 1930's movie stars. I sent out a dozen postcards.

'While walking the Camino, I just accepted that chickens would live in a cathedral. At that point, it seemed as reasonable as a woman who used an attack dog to alert her to pilgrims passing or the wine fountain in Irache…. Chickens in a church were par for the course at that point. When I got back, all those people who received chicken postcards were baffled...' (126-27).

Logroño-Nájera

Day 3 — 29.5 kms

A word about the distances: what I post is the 'official' distance. It doesn't include the walking one does once one arrives at one's destination. That walking can include going an extra km trying to find the night's lodgings, any touring one might do after showering and then wandering around. In Nájera, we probably added an additional 2 km to our official walk. One has to wonder about the logic: we spend all day on our feet and then we willingly go and walk some more? But when feet are all there is for transportation, there's no choice.

The morning saw us leaving the city of Logroño, going out through new suburbs and buildings and not the dismal garbage heaps that the guides had advertised. For a good hour or more, we enjoyed walking through a huge park, complete with lake. The signs are new, a stylised shell. We followed them through Logroño and its outskirts, past vineyards until we came up to a highway. I didn't take a photo but the fence that separates the highway from the camino is completely covered with simple wooden crosses that pilgrims have stuck into the chainlink fence. The overall effect was overpowering. From my journal: 'There were hundreds if not thousands of crosses other pilgrims had stuck in the fence. The overall effect was that of a giant weaving, a huge tela. The supply is inexhaustable because there's a wood mill nearby. I am still not quite sure what I felt seeing it.'

We stopped in the next town, Navarette, for an early lunch (at 11.30) of fried eggs, frites, bread and wine/beer. We have found that that sort of lunch sticks to the ribs and helps one walk.



The next segment was utterly dismal. The camino, as printed on the maps, doesn't always go the way one anticipates. In this case, we found ourselves slogging alongside construction of a new highway. There was no shade for miles, except for the underpass from which I shot this photo. We found a Brazilian woman at an intersection, wondering where to go, so for the rest of the afternoon, the three of us walked together. It was awful: hot, hot, hot and very hard under the feet. Add in the noise and pollution from the traffic and it was most unspiritual.

We went up a hill that finally got us into a forested area where people had created a little community of rock 'elves.' It was kind of cute.



But, on the other side of the hill and forest, we went back out into the hot afternoon sun. The ground was so hard-packed. As we walked, we kept seeing horse manure, so we knew there was a horse or two ahead of us and, if ever we weren't sure of the way, we'd wait until we saw a yellow arrow or a pile of manure. This shot looks toward a bump that commemorates Roland's defeat of the giant, Ferragus.



After settling into our hotel, we walked across the lovely river in Nájera to the abbey church that has a grotto built into the red-stone mountainside. In the grotto is a medieval statue of the Virgin Mary. The cool air of the church was most welcome.



One can make out how the church is built into the cliffs behind it. The next day we would go up the cliffs. One can also discern the ever-present stork nests and a stork flying toward the tower.

Storks clack their beaks together when they are defending their territory so I took to calling them 'clackers.'

Los Arcos - Logroño

Day 2, 28.5 kms

Regaining the Camino is like seeing a good friend after a year's absence. You pick up where you left off and take it from there.

The morning was overcast — always fine by us. Even by day 2, it's quite clear that this 421km segment of the Camino is largely going to be flat. We're not going to be walking on little narrow mountain paths. We were able to make good time in the morning because it was so, so flat — going at least 5km/hour.

The 12th-century church in Torres del Rio is a gem. It's a beautiful octagonal church with exquisite acoustics (I had to try them out). Sadly, it is a museum and not a church insofar as it is no longer used for worship. The church is quite reminiscent of the funerary chapel at Eunate, outside of Puenta la Reina, a three-day walk back east. We bumped into two women cyclists from Montana, who were pretty much going at the same pace as the walkers because it was hilly enough still. There are a lot more people from the US this time than previous years. Perhaps it's because we are walking later.

Outside of Torres del Rio, we started walking through lots of vineyards. We are in La Rioja, wine country (nice to have at night), so grapes are everywhere.

Coming down into Logroño, we came upon Felice's daughter, who had just set up shop again after a downpour. Her mother, from 1982 until her death in 1995 at age 92, would greet pilgrims with love, water and figs (as the stamp from her indicates). Her daughter continues the tradition, by greeting pilgrims and dispensing the same. I said she was famous (she is in several books), and she said no, it was the pilgrims who had made her famous.

Then we walked down into Logroño, where we would spend the night at a pension. After settling in, we walked over to the cathedral. If you look hard, you can see a stork on the right-hand side of the bell tower. They are considered good luck and a town takes pride in their presence. But don't EVER stand below a stork nest!!! We watched a plume of stork guano come streaming down and had we been nearby we would have been coated.

By day's end I wrote in my journal: 'The party is over. I have a blister on my left pinky toe, despite coating it with benzoin beforehand. I just wait for the right one to catch up. Legs are very tired as well. The end of the day they were getting tight."

Back to the Camino

After many weeks away, I am back at home and will try to post photos from the most recent Camino walk, going day by day.

Day 1 of walking, Estella to Los Arcos, 20.4 kms

We took a bus from Pamplona where we had spent the night to Estella where we would be picking up the Camino again. Right outside of Estella within the first five minutes of walking, I spotted this sign on the side of a bar-café: 666 kms to Santiago. These signs are fairly frequent, advertising for San Miguel beer, put up in the last jubilee year of 2004 (when the feast of Santiago, 25 July lands on a Sunday).

Within an hour of walking, we'd arrived at the Irache winery, famous for its free wine. The bodega (winery) has two fountains, one with water and one with wine. The sign tells pilgrims that if they want to arrive in Santiago in one piece, they need to fortify themselves with wine and make a toast.

Right by the winery is the Irache abbey church, a pretty Romanesque church that has a Baroque facade. This church also has an attractive cloister. It was one of the few churches open on the entire segment of the camino we walked.

In the afternoon (as the heat cranked up), we found ourselves walking through vineyards (we are in Rioja) and olive groves. The scenery is pretty and made for an easy first day of walking. (We were glad we didn't have to go to the top of that bump in the photo.) It makes a big difference not to be walking with two broken toes to say the least.

In the early days of this segment of the Camino, we could still see mountains and there was some variation in the terrain. It would be a while before we got to the alteplano/meseta. For the time being, we enjoyed seeing nearby mountains. There are lots and lots of wildflowers, which makes for restful walking, too. Nonetheless, the photo hints at some of the vast vistas we would see later on.

More to come

Starting the beginning of July, when I have finally landed, I will start putting up photos and narrative about the Camino. For the time being, here is a photo of early morning on the alteplano, going up a slight meseta, with loads of wheat fields populated by wild poppies.