Estella – Sept 28, 2016

We noticed in the early days that pilgrims of some national groups walked faster than the rest of us.  They have gone far ahead, and the ones from a day behind us are long gone by the time we get on the road in the morning.  The rest of us walk at roughly the same pace, leapfrogging at picture, lunch and rest stops.  You get to know some of them quite well through repeated encounters.  As a result of our rest day in Pamplona we lost our original crew, and now have picked up another set.  As we left Puente la Reina we came across a couple who were carrying an 18 month old child in a backpack.  That surely is going to be a task.

We also noticed that some national groups are much louder than the others. They announce themselves a long way ahead. Their nationality shall remain anonymous, as they probably don’t realise it themselves.

The small towns that you walk through often seem abandoned, particularly during siesta. Not a thing is stirring, even the dogs are asleep. However, a few of the inhabitants pay tribute to the pilgrims.  Yesterday, as we walked through a deserted town, there was a little old lady on her doorstep passing out ripe figs to passing pilgrims, along with a ‘Buon Camino’ wish.  Today there was a place with boxes of walnuts and hazelnuts for the pilgrims, along with a brick to crush them.  Most everyone seems to actually like the pilgrims and wish us well.  I compare this to Banff, where the inhabitants consider the tourists as vermin to be exploited.

The Camino path seems to go from town to town but, since the goal of a true medieval pilgrim was to pray at every opportunity, it really goes from church to church. Only those cases of modern rerouting will take you through a town away from the church front door.  Unfortunately for the true pilgrim, most of the churches today are locked, except for mass times. The church originally was usually built on a hill, and the village grew around it. The valleys are better suited to agriculture.  As a result, there are many hills to climb on the Camino as you go from church to church.  I seem to remember that in Galicia and Portugal, the Way also included each wayside cross, and they are ALWAYS built on the highest hill around.

Today was another 25 km day, but did not have any major hills to scale, although the small ones did seem that way. The muscles are not yet toughened up, nor the endurance strengthened, but the blisters are worse, slowing us down.  It takes a couple weeks to toughen up.  The scenery is gradually changing – the stony sunflower, corn and hay fields are slowly yielding to vineyards.

Tonight is another very nice hotel, although not exactly “right on the Camino”, as advertised. It is across the river from the Camino, and so has less of the pilgrim/tourist influence.  We ate our evening meal in the city square, watching the evening town rituals. The young children playing skateboards and scooters in the central square; the matrons gossiping and having a glass of white wine around the edge; the gigantic bell of the church tolling for the 8 o’clock mass. All just like you have read about.