Spain 2018, part 8 (Way of St James: Luquin – Los Arcos – Sansol – Viana – Logroño)
When you leave the village of Luquin, the path slowly descends. At the time I was walking there, I did not encounter anybody, but I did see a stunning butterfly that fully oblivious of its beauty just stood there, posing sufficiently long for me to be able to take several photos of it.
The Way then crosses a road and here it is really not necessary to carry any kinds of maps of guidebooks since everything is marked perfectly well.
By the way, ever since Jaca and my repacking and sending of the surplus baggage to Santiago de Compostela, I had realised and learned that while on the Way, it was necessary for one to be extremely practical. Thus I walked in the same clothes literally every day. As soon as I would get to an albergue, first I would take a shower and change into the clean “stationary” clothes, after which I would wash the clothes I was walking in that day. With a very rare exception, which I will speak more of when the time comes, everything got dry very quickly and was therefore ready to be worn the following day. In my case, the walking clothes included a bright yellow T-shirt, so one of my FB friends named me a “dandelion.”
So, once you cross the main road, the path leads over a flat terrain beside large grain fields. Only in the distance, the ground starts to rise, one can see a vineyard here and there, as well as the surrounding hills and even higher mountains in the background.
Regardless of the beauty of the surroundings, this section is rather demanding since from the point of crossing the road one needs to walk almost 10 km before reaching the first inhabited place and that is the town of Los Arcos. The Way mostly follows wide and straight paths that make turns at right angles following the line of the flatland fields and only in one short part the Way winds and passes by a hillock covered by a forest where it is possible to take a break in a shade.
But, as this was the first (and it would turn out the only) day when I had no major problems and pains, I was quite content. Still, when I finally reached Los Arcos I was more than ready to have some serious rest.
There, in the square by the Church of Santa María which is spacious enough to have a nice “garden” with tables, I saw Ana and Miriam, i.e., they saw me and invited me to join them. It was here that we officially met. They had actually stayed in the same albergue as I the previous night and it was in fact Ana who had earlier that morning told me about the drinking fountain by Irache Monastery where I could fill up my water bottle.
Over nice coffee and pastry, we soon discovered we had similar interests so we had more than a nice chat. However, as we opened some never-ending topics, after the break the three of us continued together, heading for the next place. This was Sansol and I had already planned to spend a night there, while the two of them went on for one more kilometre reaching the village of Torres del Rio.
There are 7 km from Los Arcos to Sansol and almost not a single tree to provide some shade. No matter how much the breaks at bars are nice and necessary, they still cannot make one immune for long to the heat of the day and the scorching sun.
In addition, I followed the very fast pace of my two new friends, but at some point I had to stay behind, partially in order to follow my own, somewhat slower rhythm, as well as in order to take photos since I wanted to record the beauty of the landscapes I was going through.
Eventually, rather exhausted and dehydrated, I reached Sansol since I didn’t feel like stopping often and taking the water bottle out of my backpack being so close to the destination of the day. In a small square close to the albergue I was staying at I saw Ana and Miriam sitting on a bench in a shade waiting for me. I gave my mail address to Ana (had no strength to write down hers) and then the two of them moved on. First I drank water from the fountain in the square and then I went to the hostel that was a dozen metres away.
Entering the albergue was like entering a Garden of Eden – there was water flowing into a shallow pool, low vegetation, tables and chairs in between all of this, and all in a dappled shade. And it did not end there – there was also wonderful, soft Cuban music playing. This albergue like most of those at which I stayed was private and the entire family of the owners were making sure the pilgrims had good rest and enjoyed themselves.
The dormitory at the albergue was very nice, spacious, wonderfully aired, with exceptionally pleasant temperature and it was with great pleasure that I lay in my bed after taking a shower. Still, my stomach worked and soon I had to go down to the restaurant where I ordered some food which was good and fulfilling.
It was the first time later in Sansol that I felt sufficiently strong and not too exhausted to be able to go for a short walk around the village. It was nice and picturesque, but I have to say that most of the places I was going through were like that. Still, from the plateau behind the local church I had a stunning view at Torres del Rio and its two churches. The Romanesque one was particularly interesting.
Still, like in the case of Estella, regardless of the attractiveness of the village and its churches, I had absolutely no intention of walking down and visiting the place. Other than that brief stroll around Sansol, I spent the rest of the day in the pleasantness of the hostel and its garden posting for my friends the following report:
Day 11: “Where is the pleasure in this?”
I spoke with my mom the other day and I was telling her about my problems with toes, but in order to calm down her concern, I told her that Rafael had one toe nail falling off and another one was navy blue, while Gabriel’s every other toe nail was black. And there my mom said:
”My dear child, where is the joy in that?”
The question was quite reasonable and I kept asking myself the same thing these days. Even yesterday, when quite successfully I reached the albergue rather early and had the time to rest, but it still took a very long time. I felt drained until the evening.
I asked myself the same thing again this morning when I was slowly warming my muscles and joints up, not feeling quite fresh, but I had to move on. My plan was to cover as many as 27 km. That’s why I left before 6! At first, I often felt some squeaking in the area of the right hip, but that died out over time and then I finally started to feel something. What was it? Pleasure! This is what we are talking about today.
First I started to hum that song that I’ve come to like so much over the past few months, “Od Ebra do Dunava,” and that is somehow very good for this trip – it provides a good rhythm, plus the Ebro is the river I strolled by in Zaragoza at the very beginning of this journey, while the Danube is a river I can see from my balcony. Then I came across a large flock of sheep and soon I also reached a small place where I renewed my water supplies. While I had mostly walked along a path that led through forests and over hills before this village, from there on the landscape was almost flat, with very mild rippling of the ground, the wide path led through huge grain fields, while the wind started to blow, thus providing pleasant refreshment.
In town Los Arcos, on a splendid square, I saw a restaurant garden that had my name on it. There were also two women who had slept the previous night at the same hostel as I and who had left some ten minutes before me, so they invited me to join them. It turned out that I shared a lot of common interests with one of them, so we started with a lively conversation. After a fine break, I continued walking with them. They walked quite briskly and I followed them for a while, but then I had to stop and take photos since the landscapes were spectacular. A lot of people just walk here, and that is fine, but that is not me. I also want to take photos and try in that way to preserve the moment for later as well. And these moments surrounded by the beauty of the landscapes were fabulous. Still, these last 7 km to Sansol were rather difficult, it was hot, not a shade in sight, already the end of a good day’s march and I was tired and thirsty, but did not feel like stopping and taking the water bottle out of the backpack. I finally reached the village and there I saw my two new friends waiting in the shade close to the albergue I was going to stay at that day and then we exchanged the mail addresses. In this square there was also a public drinking fountain with wonderful fresh, but not too cold water.
And then I entered the courtyard of the albergue which seemed as it were a garden of Eden, with wonderful smell of jasmine, while soft Cuban music and the voice of Ibrahim Ferrer came from the loudspeakers. Now, after the shower and some resting, I’m feeling strong soreness of my calf muscles, but first I’m going to have some chorizo and take a clara, and then I will go back to bed again. Not bad for a day, is it?
Before me: 653 km
Behind me: 214 km
The following morning I woke up well after a good night’s sleep and when I was about to start, it turned out it was raining a little. Not too much, but enough to make one wonder. It was too early when I passed through Torres del Rio for me to stay there and visit it, but I did stop a couple of times and in the end I took my rain cape off and continued unprotected against the precipitation. And it was not heavy after all, so I did stay dry.
As it was dawning, I could see there were a lot of clouds in the sky, but the sun was winning the battle and appeared right at the moments when it was good for me to take photos.
The landscapes were now significantly different, there were not too many ascents, just few of them and they were short, and the vegetation changed as well. Although there were still a lot of grain fields, I started seeing more and more vineyards. No wonder, for I was about to enter the famous autonomous community La Rioja.
Still, what marked this day for me was that after a day’s break my left ankle started to hurt again, regardless of the fact that no longer I wore hiking boots, but rather walking shoes. Nothing helped – neither small steps, nor big steps or putting more of my weight on my hiking poles... Thus, with a lot of feeling of unpleasantness I reached Viana, climbed up the streets of the town towards the centre and then in one of the bars that had their tables out in the street I saw Ana and Miriam. We rejoiced a great deal in meeting one another again and they advised me to have my breakfast there. I took their advice and really enjoyed the break. As soon as I did not move, I felt no pain.
With the two of them there was also José, a young man who attends Ana’s lectures. And while the two of them moved on, José and I stayed back for some 10 minutes in order to wait for the Church of Santa María to open for visitors.
It is interesting that in front of the entrance into the church there is a stone slab marking the place where Cesare Borgia was buried. The Cesare Borgia, whose sister Lucrezia is also famous and who served as an inspiration to Machiavelli for The Prince. Before the end of his short life (he was killed at the age of 32), Cesare Borgia was transferred as a prisoner from Italy to Spain where he managed to escape, but was eventually killed in 1507. He was first buried in the church itself, but later his remains were moved from the church to a tomb that was placed under the street passing by the church in order for everybody to walk over his dead body. After several centuries and after the testing of his bones in the 20th century, the remains were buried in a tomb under the slab that can be seen in front of the entrance into the church, but in 2007 they were finally removed from there and buried in the church.
After I had visited the church, I continued on my own, but José caught up with me after a while. He is a very educated young man and he even knew a lot about the events that took place in the Balkans during the 1990’s, so he asked me a lot of questions and I answered to him for a while and shared my view of the whole situation, but eventually I said I could no longer go into that so we moved onto some sport topics.
Still, the main thing was that my leg kept hurting me very much and I could barely drag myself towards Logroño. José advised me to go and see a physiotherapist, but as it turned out I was not the only one in the town interested in something like this and when I called them from the hostel I stayed at, it turned out they had all been already booked.
Right next to the hostel that was in the very centre of the town, there was a restaurant, so I sat there to eat something and put the following text on Facebook:
Day 12: “A pilgrim is not a tourist”
After a great night’s sleep, I was ready to continue joyfully, especially because today’s section was shorter – meagre 21 km. Still, the day started by one French girl telling me it rained outside. It was not in vain that I carried those 20 kg, so I had a rain cape ready, but it soon turned out there were only few drops of rain outside and there was no need for me to sweat under the cane which practically comes down to a large plastic bag. The landscapes were awesome. The sun barely managed to get through the clouds, thus creating a wonderful scene with the silhouette of Sansol that I had left earlier.
At one point I came across a significantly steep ascent, so I slowed down and breathed heavily. I stopped on the top in order to catch my breath and there I met another “dandelion” – a man in a bright yellow t-shirt, like me. Then he said: “A pilgrim is not a tourist!” I could not agree more.
The mild terrains that ensued started to be covered in vineyards more and more often, and even the path was made of soft, loose soil in one brief segment. And then, regardless of the fact that in the meantime I had discarded my hiking boots and had moved on to walking shoes, I started to feel pain in the same ankle as the day before yesterday, i.e., in its front part. Yesterday I was fine (in my walking shoes), but today there is a problem again. This is starting to surpass the level of a physical problem and move into the sphere of the psyche.
So, I dragged myself to the town of Viana where I bumped into Ana and Miriam. We kissed each other, I sat with them and they recommended the 3 euro breakfast there – freshly squeezed orange juice, a croissant and a cappuccino. While I was just sitting there and talking with them, I felt no pain. Miriam also gave me some anti-inflammatory gel to apply to my leg and then the two of them left. After a while I moved on, too. Soon after, the leg started to hurt me again and that really exhausted me. Along the way, a Spanish guy told me that this is the Way: there is pleasure, once you’ve reached the albergue, take a shower and have a rest, but every day there is suffering as well. What? I have forgotten a very important thing – this is a Catholic pilgrimage road and it seems to me that they somehow cherish this suffering of theirs. It’s not as if we are some great hedonists, but I’ve come here to enjoy. Yesterday I thought the fun part was about to start, but today I’ve made a “psychological” step back again. Are these the doubts that surface along every way?
Before me: 632 km
Behind me: 235 km