Sitting in the comfort of my living room some three months later, I can clearly see them hanging on the end of my bunk where I left them to dry. It's a pity that I didn't see them hanging there at the time because I only had one other pair with me and did not discover my loss until the following evening. Still it was the only piece of kit that I lost in five weeks, unlike Pablo who lost or mislaid an item roughly every third or fourth day. He spent an inordinate amount of time walking or travelling by bus in the opposite direction to Santiago on his expeditions to recover the latest lost item. It must have made his camino interesting, It certainly amused everybody who came into contact with him.
Our route out of Logrono took us through a linear park that led under the motorway to the shores of a reservoir surrounded by fragrantly scented pine woods. Another beautiful morning with the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky. Unfortunately the wind had changed direction and was now coming down from the north bringing a definite arctic chill with it. So much for sunny Spain, it was warmer in the UK apparently. Henry and I enjoyed a breakfast of fresh orange juice, potato tortilla and hot cafe con leche in a small bar on the banks of this lake staring out of the picture windows at the snow capped mountains. Winter appeared to be making a return visit to Spain.
We eventually forced ourselves to go back out into the cold and carried on walking up hill within sight of the autopista to the summit of Alto de la Grajera. At the top there was a chain link fence in which earlier peregrinos had woven crosses made out of strips of bark, a by product of an adjoining timber yard. The pathway down the hill led us out of the woods and into vineyards towards the small town of Navarette. We were now in the region of La Rioja, famous for the wine of the same name. On the approach to the town we passed the ruins of an old pilgrims Hospital or refuge alongside the famous Don Jacobo wine producers. There was a sign on the fence indicating that we were still 576 kilometres from Santiago.
Another Kodak moment 'I wonder who would like that bottle of wine'.
Navarette is a another traditional camino town, this one though has become prosperous through the local wine trade. A lot of effort has been made to preserve the character of the period houses, many of which bear handsomely carved family crests or shields. The town and surrounding countryside are dominated by the imposing sixteenth century Church of the Assumption, standing aloof in the top square. Because we were on a pilgrimage we felt that we should pay it a visit. Although I am not particularly religious I love the peace and quiet of churches which gave me time to meditate and reflect on my journey (or should that read - rest my feet and think about lunch).
After another coffee break, Henry went in search of the post office and I carried on alone to the small town of Ventosa where I intended to spend the night. There were large dark clouds forming overhead as I arrived at the private 'San Saturnino' albergue. It was not due to open for approximately twenty minutes and as I waited the heavens opened up with ice cold stinging hailstones, luckily I was able to shelter under the overhanging roof of an adjoining building. This was one of the most welcoming Refugio's that I stayed in along the whole camino. It was freshly decorated throughout, there was incense burning and soothing music playing quietly in the background. The tariff was very reasonable and it had all mod cons. There was also a small shop where I was able to stock up on food for the following day.
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