Stages 7, break, 8 and 9

Wednesday morning we decided to take a very slight detour from our usual morning routine. The albergue that we were staying at started serving breakfast at 6, which corresponded with our usual departure and eating schedule. At breakfast we had the pleasure of talking to an older English woman who is doing the Camino for her young grandson who suffers from scoliosis and autism. She shared with us her stories about her family and how she is traveling the world at least until November. She is one of many people so far on this trip who has given me travel/retirement goals.
 

After that, we set off on what was to be our longest day yet, - 29 km to Logroño. Initially it was thought to be a great challenge both mentally and physically. It also marked the day that we would complete 100 miles and enter a different region of Spain (Rioja). Big day.

Personally I approached the day by thinking of it in two main chunks; Los Arcos to Viana and Viana to Logroño.
 

When we were leaving I found the tightness I had been feeling in my Achilles tendon had not been relieved. It was rather painful, but I figured I would push through the pain as I had done the day prior despite the voices of my coworkers, mother, and father grumbling in my ear that I shouldn't push it. But hey, since when have I ever listened to advice like that? (The answer is never, or when it's too late). My pace wasn't damaged too much by it, mostly just my gate by a small bit (in no way significant). On the outskirts of town, a young Boston couple we have been talking with since Roncesvalles passed by and mentioned in passing something about ibuprofen. What a novel idea! Although I am not one to jump to the drugs at the first sign of trouble, I took stock of my situation and how I still have 400 miles left and decided that it wouldn't be such a terrible thing if I were to pop a couple pills.
 

When we reached the town of Sansol, 6.8km from Los Arcos, we stopped to regroup at a café. There, I took two ibuprofen and crossed my fingers that they would make a difference. I then headed out with my sights set on Viana for a break and lunch.
 

The way to Viana was peaceful, as per usual, with vineyards and fields all around. There was a bit of wind to cut through the heat of the sun, that had decided to actually show up to its job that day. Not long after we left Sansol, I saw a younger  Englishman who had paired up with an American salesman around the same age earlier on in the pilgrimage (the two are actually a riot when you talk with them and are so entertaining to be around). The pair were ahead of me and were catching up to a limping woman (limping due to blisters) as we were coming down a hill. The Englishman proceeded to put a hand on her elbow and help her the rest of the way down the hill. So there is a daily heart warmer for you.
 

There was a point just past one of the vineyards where a local Spanish couple had come out to play music for the pilgrims as we endured the relentless sun. When people say that something was “music to their ears” I am positive that the couple's guitar playing is the gold standard to said ear music.
 

Eventually, in contrast to the fields, we also walked on a highway road as we got closer to the town. It took a lot of self discipline to not thrust out my thumb to mimic a hitchhiker. Once we made it to Viana, food and elevated feet were the only things on my mind. We found the town square which led us to a restaurant of our choice. Once we found a place and sat down I was completely enthralled by the people watching. We had picked a place that was part of the Camino path and were able to holler greetings to the familiar faces that passed us by. The American and Englishman pair were some of those faces, and they informed us it would be a loss if we were to not go into the Inglesia that stood prominently in the town square. So naturally after lunch we tried to go see what all of the fuss was about, and naturally, we couldn't get in due to the start of siesta.
 

Taking that as our sign to move on, Betsy and David re-applied Vaseline and I switched into my chaccos for a change in support for the rest of the days walk. As we were leaving there was a church ruin we were actually able to go into and wonder a bit. There wasn't much there but it was cool, none the less, to imagine what used to be.
 

The way into Lagroño wasn't terrible terrain wise, but was very hot and exposed to the hot afternoon sun. By the time we got to the city I was named official navigator to get us safely to our hotel. Yes I said hotel. By the time we checked in and got into our rooms I had received an e-mail from my dad trying to catch me up on all of the hullabaloo back home. Being fed up with the long drawn out e-mails and wanting desperately to hear a voice from home, I quickly replied with the curt suggestion that he download the “WhatsApp” so we could call over the Wi-Fi. Not even 5 minutes later I saw he was calling me and I was purely giddy with happiness. The second he said hello I couldn't help but giggle and keep repeating “hi” back because I could actually hear his voice. The Wi-Fi kept cutting us off but whenever it would reconnect us we would carry on as if nothing could happen. It made my day, possibly even my week, to actually hear his actual voice and not just in my head.
 

After talking with him we left to look for food and found a cute restaurant that we stopped at and began to “sample” two bottles of the region's infamous wine. While having a grand old time, some fellow pilgrims came and joined us and we carried on enjoying the beautiful evening laughing and being merry. At the end of the night we went back and fell straight asleep.
 

The next morning I slept in a whole extra two hours before getting up. Unable to find where Betsy and David disappeared to, and not wanting to leave for fear of being unable to communicate plans, I decided to go downstairs and get some breakfast in the hotel.  After hanging around in the room for a bit, Betsy finally showed up with information regarding our plan to do laundry after the market opened. So, that's what we did. We waited for the market to open so we could get detergent and then walked across the city to find the laundromat - culminating in our poor American selves struggled to figure out the laundry system. And I really mean struggle. The three locals that were present tried, in vain, to show us how it all worked - and slowly we began to figure it out.
 

We decided to relax at a café and wait for the laundry machines to finish its arduous task of tackling the cleansing of our several-day nastiness that was our clothes. While there, I was able to take in the local community. Considering it was a weekday and most of the population was either working or in school, it left the elders to roam free and take proper claim of the streets. I will take this moment to reiterate an earlier point: I love old people. To quote myself from when my dad and I stayed at a hotel full of them in California, “These are my peeps!” I was fascinated to note some of the differences between how we treat elderly in America versus how they are treated here in Spain. There is more respect here and they are more visible rather than being tucked away in America. But that is my own humble opinion.
 

When the laundry was finished, we headed back to the hotel and I met up with another pilgrim with whom to wander the city.  We mostly went to the park that ran along a river. At one point we sat on a park bench for a while, resulting in my shoulders, in particular one shoulder, exhibiting its apparent lack of melanin. It was a beautiful sunny day that became leveled up (gaming pun) by the overabundance of cotton flowing through the air to provide a less cold appearance and peacefulness of falling snow.
 

The next day we tackled yet another long day - from Logroño to Nájera, 29.6km in whole. It was nice because we each ended up with our own individual walking buddies to talk with and enjoy. Something we hadn't yet experienced. Up until yesterday we had just been walking on our own or all together. While I very much enjoyed the company, it still takes some getting used to to not be on your own with your thoughts after you have gotten so used to it.
 

It wasn't a hard day at all, just long and hot. The heat is what was the bigger hurdle to overcome, but we made due. I think the distraction of our partners made it all go by quicker and easier, save the last few kilometers, which are never easy because by then you can't not feel the pain of the distance culminating in your feet. Every rock, every bump is felt through every cell that has taken residence in your feet.
 

Our grandiose images of a paradise at the end of a dusty trail disappeared when we reached the lackluster outskirts of town. The further we pushed the more we were able to see the oasis that was nestled against a red rock plateau resting just beyond a rocky creek.
 

We were able to find yet another cute albergue with available beds just past the bridge. From there we fell back into our routine with food and drink and rest with strangling fellow pilgrims joining us.
 

Another benefit to gaining friends is we have also broadened our Spanish vocabulary. Betsy took a particular interest in the word for ice cream, or helado. After lunch we searched for an ice cream shop. Betsy, being the ever outgoing person we have all grown to love, decided to find where the nearest kne was by running up to people screaming, “HELADO?!?!” After scaring off and confusing at least three people, we got a rough answer as to the direction. We found ourselves in front of a bar that served ice cream bars (not what we were looking for) and we're very disappointed. Pouting ever so slightly, I took a few grumbled steps just beyond the bar to look up - and low and behold there it appeared! As if I had manifested it from my own imagination, there it was. In pure disbelief and excitement I began to scream, jump, point, and all around act like a crazy lunatic.
 

For the rest of the day we just took it easy and hung out with the fellow pilgrims until lights out. To end the day, a giant thunder storm rolled in with plenty of booms and flashes followed by a monsoon-esque downpour.
 

Today we did 21.3 km to Santo Domingo de la Calzada. For most of the day the weather hung in limbo that looked as though it might rain with the threat of heat and humidity that could have left us drenched in our own sweat. Despite the short day, with mild terrain we still found ourselves with sore feet and tired bodies by the time we reached the town.

Although not as cute as other towns we have been through, the town makes up for it in Catholic lore and architecture that brings awe and wonder to even those who are non- believers. After actually taking last in siesta after lunch we went to visit Catedral de Santo Domingo de La Calzada. It had several paintings and sculptures of religious figures, as well as a display of miniature models of historical and non-historical (sorry I don't count the Battle of Helms Deep as historical) events. Once we got into the actual chapel, we were able to witness the famous chickens of Santo Domingo (due to the high demand for and push to get this blog written, please refer to google for that interesting tale).
 

Since then, we have taken to relaxing with our pilgrim people before our adventure tomorrow.