Camino de Santiago Day 6: Estella to Torres del Rio
Fountains of wine, long flat roads under a beating sun, full inns and transcending the guidebook
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I trawl the streets of Estella in the morning using my sense of smell to find a café; already I don’t feel quite myself without at least the option to indulge in my morning ritual of a pain au chocolat and a coffee. The only place I find open before 9am is the café at the bus station, frequented by pigeons and men reading newspapers in front of the football results. The volcano on La Palma is still erupting.
The early morning walk out through Estella’s suburbs is pleasant, and despite my frustration at not finding a supermarket open before 9am, I’m enjoying getting into the rhythm of a country that tends to sleep in. I’ve mentioned the plentiful albergues which are found every few kilometres along the Camino, providing places to sleep each night. Their abundance means you’re rarely stuck for a place to stay, provided you can make your way to the next village if the nearest one is full up.
Along with the plentiful accommodation, you’re also rarely too far from a café, bar or restaurant – somewhere to eat, drink and sit. Another staple that ensures your survival along the way are the many public water fountains – fuentes – found at convenient intervals, and most towns seem to have one. It’s a useful public amenity that I found all over Spain and Portugal, not just on the Camino itself.
I’d heard stories about a fuente del vino – a fountain of wine – a few kilometres out the road from Estella. At the Bodega Irache pilgrims are encouraged to fill their scallop shells – or cups or bottles – with one of two taps: one flows with water, one with wine. It sounded like an amusing novelty, though the way people had been going on about it you’d swear it was the highlight of their whole Camino.
I have to admit that when I got there, joining a queue of thirsty walkers and getting someone to take a video of me filling my boots, as it were, I enjoyed the whole thing more than I had expected. I also had more than enough wine in my pocket to make the day’s walking feel shorter.
I make my way along a dirt road under the gaze of a mountain. On every hill it seems there’s another monastery, or a large cross. Green vineyards bearing dark blue grapes; green mountains, brown earth, white clouds, yellow fields and blue sky – the colours of the landscape are perfect.
I’m about to leave Villmayor de Monjardin but decide to go back to eat my lunch, to soak in the energy of the latest incredible historic village, though in a manner that isn’t sipping coffee at a business for once. I sit and eat my packed lunch and listen and look out over the countryside ahead, which I’m to cross over the coming days. The intentional rest does wonders for my inflamed ankles.
Bread and sausage. More lunch in the shade of a ditch – it’s getting hot, hotter than it’s been al week. There are butterflies and olive trees – a guy explains to me that unlike the grapes, whose consumption is encouraged and offered to pilgrims as they walk through the vineyards, you can’t eat olives straight off the trees – you’ve to steep them in water for ten days.
Cicadas click in the grass – “thkathkathkathka” – the sound of an un unmerciful midday sun. The stretch of road to Los Arcos is almost 10km – straight road no villages no stops – the longest such period of solitude yet. The lack of stimulation in the immediate environment seems to stimulate deeper thoughts.
Who am I and what am I doing on the Camino? Maybe the answer is created in the conversations you have – with others and with yourself – as you walk along the road, day after day.
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The last few kilometres I take to singing to myself – it seems to have a healing power as not only do I completely forget about my ankle, but the pain disappears. Until, that is, I get to Los Arcos – today’s destination. I sit on a bench at the entrance to the town and re-hydrate – the brief rest seems to make my ankle worse than ever.
I haven’t been to Mexico but Los Arcos reminds me of a small town in Mexico. I hobble into the central plaza to find almost everyone I know or recognise from the road eating or enjoying a drink. Rumours circulate that there’s no room at the any of the inns in town. The first one I check is indeed full; I wait around at a second one for about twenty minutes. When the lady arrives she attends to everyone bar me, and appears to be speaking loudly about ‘anyone without a reservation’, with a wink and a nod, though without directly addressing me. Then she goes off to do a taxi run, leaving me for another twenty minutes.
In the mean-time I get a reservation in the next town – I’d rather keep walking than wait. I’ve been wanting to deviate from the guidebook stages all week now, so maybe today is the perfect day to push on that bit further, and complete a distance closer to the 30km per day I was aiming for. It’s just another 7km to Torres del Rio, or an hour and a half of walking at this time.
There’s a gang of others who are in a similar boat to me, not having secured accommodation either, and so we all set off into the sunset to find a bed in the next town over. Tomorrow’s destination is the city of Logroño, and so maybe it’ll be better to do a longer day today, with a shorter day of only 20-odd kilometres to cover to take us into the city.
There’s a Spanish word that is commonly associated with the Camino: ‘ultreia’ – it means ‘beyond’. In those early days and weeks on the Camino I became obsessed with going ‘beyond’ – beyond the ordinary pace of a typical pilgrim on the Camino, having set myself a rough time limit of 30 days to complete the journey (or 4 weeks plus travel days), rather than the average pace of about 33 days (not including any rest days – which may be voluntary or enforced, don’t forget). Most guidebooks follow a 33-day itinerary, though of course there’s always the option to stay in any of the villages or towns you pass through along the way, as even the smallest of hamlets will usually have an albergue for you to stay at, if nothing else.
Although I began my Camino with rampant enthusiasm and strong legs, it had become apparent in recent days that I wouldn’t be hitting my expected target of about 28km a day that would take me to Santiago in 4 weeks – at least not yet. I found myself staying at the larger towns, which tend to attract a majority of the other pilgrims. I’d also been told that the cumulative walking makes you stronger rather than sapping your energy, so I thought maybe it would be fine to stick to a standard pace before increasing the dosage when I was broken in.
“It’s fine for the first week”, I told myself, “I’ll up the pace next week.”
It wasn’t just that I wanted to do the Camino faster, part of my desire to do greater distances was a desire to go ‘beyond’ the ordinary – the official stages, the more popular ‘touristy’ spots, to go off the beaten path somewhat – as this is quite a beaten path we were walking on. Perhaps terrified of having a mundane or ordinary experience, I wanted to deviate from the script and do something extraordinary, and the only way I could think to do so was to do a colossal amount of walking in one day.
It never happened though. In those first few days, and I found myself staying at the same places as everyone else: Roncesvalles, Zubiri, Pamplona, Puente la Reina, Estella. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter where you are: you’re still just doing the same routine: you check in, you shower, you get something to eat, you sleep. And you go again. And just as it’s good to be conscious not to just do things because everyone else is doing them, it’s good to not be too worried about doing something different for the sake of it either, or to feel some sense of satisfaction.
I’m conscious of wanting to remain walking on my own path though, on my own time, and as much in line with my intuition as possible – how far do I feel like walking on a given day, and what looks like a nice place to stop? I’d rather spend most of my time walking alone, if I can, even though I’ve enjoyed meeting people along the way. I’ve already resisted booking accommodation ahead, as was recommended to me, as I would rather ‘see how it goes’ and wing it as much as possible – just do whatever you feel like – though obviously a potential outcome of ‘winging it’ is the chance that something like this would happen.
But I was kind of excited that the outcome of not planning ahead, and to take the day as it comes, was to be finally pushing myself ‘beyond’. It was only another 7km anyway – bringing the total for the day to 28.
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It could be the fountain of wine talking but I feel up to it, though it is hot and it’s getting late. It’s another straight, long, open dusty road that runs parallel to a highway. Strangely though I find the walking easier now than I have all day – perhaps it’s the added sense of purpose of getting to the next town brought on by necessity.
I had been done walking for the day when I got to Los Arcos, though after I found out I had to do some more, the final stretch became strangely easier. Until I got to my destination, that is. It seems like my mind was able to carry me as far as it needed to, but no further.
I find out the place I’ve booked has a swimming pool. Maybe this is the sense of purpose my day’s walking needed.
When I get to Torres del Rio, my body begins to resist any further walking. Where I’d felt strong just a minute ago, now I’m feeling depleted, and every ache and pain has resurfaced to greet me. There’s some confusion with the address and I have to pace up and down empty streets looking for the right place. This is the last thing I needed, right now. I’m tired and haven’t eaten since my homemade sausage baguette way back the road, over 15km covered in the meantime in the hot sun.
I had been done walking for the day when I got to Los Arcos, though after I found out I had to do some more, the final stretch became strangely easier. Until I got to my destination, that is. It seems like my mind was able to carry me as far as it needed to, but no further. Maybe this is the effect of having a sense of purpose – it can over-write the beliefs of the body and the mind – for as long as it exists, that is.
After I check in I go straight for the pool though it’s really cold and so I don’t spend the evening relaxing in it as I was planning. After dinner I collapse straight into bed, the best night’s sleep I’ve had all week.
In the morning I wake late, for the first time someone has to tell me check-out is approaching, at 9am. When I go out the door I see familiar faces – ones who I know stayed in Los Arcos last night. They’ve already done 7km this morning, and I’m only going for breakfast. So much for gaining ground on and going beyond the others. It doesn’t matter: I’m only going to Logroño today anyway. My body felt fine enough to walk; maybe it was the temptation and the possibilities of the big towns and cities that was really stopping me from going beyond myself.
If you’ve done the Camino, are thinking of doing it, or are just interested in discussing the Camino or travel in general - then please leave a comment. I’d love to hear from you.