Day 7 - Estella to Los Arcos

So, not every day on a 700 kilometer pilgrimage can be a great day. And today was one of those days. I honestly think if everyday was like today, no one would do this… I was awakened far too early by noisy, rude pilgrims in my hostel. Just because you’re awake before 6 doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be. And why do they have the noisiest luggage? It’s like their backpacks are filled with crinkly plastic bags. So, not a great start. I wandered out of my hostel to the sounds of two Spaniards having an extremely noisy conversation. I looked around for something vaguely resembling breakfast only to leave empty handed. I made my way over a very steep pedestrian bridge and out of the city of Estella. Fortunately, I found a gas station on my way out of town and decided that the best way to fuel my morning, based on what was in stock, was with a bottle of Orange juice and a handful of corn nuts. Yeah, I know. But not eating enough to fuel my hikes has become a problem I’m trying to fix.

I continued up the trail and was thrilled to find a small tienda with people coming out loaded down with fresh bread and pastries. I grabbed a Powerade and a chocolate croissant and enjoyed it on their porch in cool morning temps of about 52°. In short time I came to the famous wine fountain, only to find it dry of wine (I learned later that the gentleman has forgotten to turn on the pump despite it being after 8am…) After the wine fountain the trail split. I wasn’t really paying too much attention so I followed fellow pilgrims to the left. That trail led up a steep slope through the woods. About 1.5k in, I finally checked the app only to realize it wasn’t where I wanted to be. So back down I came to take the other trail - a mistake of at least 3+ kilometers. I was much happier back on the main trail. Stopped for third breakfast? Maybe it was lunch? More orange juice and a slice of tortilla. It was bitterly cold, and having decided to ship most of my cold weather gear ahead to Santiago, I put on my raincoat and plied my way out of town.

The next village came quickly and up a steep hill. I breezed through the village without any intention of stopping. I came down a steep slope, opened the app only to realize this was my last chance for 12 km to get water. So, back up I go to refill my water. I head back down only to realize I’d forgotten my trekking poles. So I went back up. My third time down the hill was my last. The next 4 km went fairly well. Intensely windy with intermittent rain. I put in my headphones for the first time and enjoyed listening to my audio book.

With about 9k to go, I sat on a camino marker to take a rest. Unfortunately, I somehow lost my balance and crashed into a thorny blackberry bush. With my pack on, I became a bit like a turtle and struggled to get out. The only thing I could do was dig my hand into the thorns to escape. I emerged bloodied and cut to pieces. And with 9k left to walk. All I wanted to do was cry. The Camino was pushing me to my limits today. I trudged on, planting my poles as sweat and dirt filled the cuts on my hands and leg. Rain came in spurts between gusting blasts of wind. I made my way into the town, finally. And feeling totally broken.

As I stood in the door of my hostel a friend walked by. We agreed to try to get our night 1 group together for dinner. After checking in, I pretty much collapsed in a heap on the floor. I drug myself to the shower, and gathered my laundry - now 2 days worth, and gladly paid the 1€ to have it washed. Instead of resting, which I should have, I joined my fellow pilgrims in the square for a drink before meeting up with with my Borda family. Probably the last night most of us will be together.

I’m back at the hostel now and it’s immensely noisy. A dog is barking loudly and incessantly outside. The girl in the bunk across from me has been shining her cell phone flashlight into my eyes for a good ten minutes now, while others are snoring, sneezing, and making odd noises. Not sure if I’ll be able to sleep tonight because of it. My hand hurts from the cuts and I’m tired…

And while all of this was going on, a member of my family was having emergency surgery today - and being 6000 miles away from the people you love, when they are in pain and suffering, is additionally, immensely hard… Tomorrow is a shorter day. And, hopefully, a better one. Goodnight from Los Arcos, Spain.En savoir plus