La Rioja! Where the Wind Comes Whipping down the Plain…

09 April 2013

When you think that the Camino can´t get more demanding, it usually does.

We left Ventosa (which apparently means “windy”, which should have been our first clue) at about 7:30, despite our best efforts to be out the door by 7.

By 9:30, we were drinking our cafe con leche´s in Najera, 10 km on.

In Najera, we visited the beautiful Monasterio de Santa Maria la Real, where some of the kings of Navarre are entombed. It was a grand building, despite a rather ignoble period of its history after the Spanish state dissolved the monasteries.

It served as a barracks, a prison, even a bull ring, before it was declared a national cultural treasure and given over to the Franciscans about 150 years ago.

We spent rather too much time in Najera, but the walk through the vinyards to lunch in Azofra was pleasant enough.

It was after this, that the rather strong and constant winds we´ve had the past few days suddenly became the most absurd headwind ever.

They were listed at 30 – 40 kph, and Patrick mentioned that he´d been in tropical storms that were less windy.

We fought these winds for 15 km that seemed like 30.

We passed through the eerie and apocalytic town of Ciruna, full of new, modern housing developments, but utterly bereft of people.

We expected zombies at any moment.

And then, back to the wind.

Eamon and Petra surged ahead, propelled by youth and long legs. Patrick, Viola, and I struggled, exhorting and encouraging each other, occasionally shouting and swearing at the wind.

When we crested the (almost) last hill and saw the town of Santo Domingo de la Calzada in the valley below us, we shouted and wept for joy.

It was, we decided, the most beautiful city ever built by human hands. The streets are paved with chorizo and jamon, the fountains flow with vino tinto and the river is surely cerveza.

Angels sing of its wonders. If we could have danced for joy, we would have.

Originally published at Another Pilgrim on the Way

Santo Domingo and His Chickens

10 April 2013

After the severe physical trail of yesterday, we were determined to take it easy, starting late and perhaps only going as far as Granon, or maybe Redecilla del Camino, some 11 km distant.

Before setting out, we explored the Cathedral. Santo Domingo himself is buried in the crypt, and I knelt there for a while, imploring the intercession of the saint for the success of my Camino.

The museum attached to the cathedral was wonderful. In particular, there´s a Flemish triptych of the Annunciation that I found both beautiful and moving.

The major pilgrim attraction, however, is undoubtedly the chickens. There are two of them in a gothic cage near the rear of the Cathedral.

The legend is quite interesting. In the interest of brevity, I will just quote the blurb on my map, which sums it up as

…the legend of the roast chicken that crowed a condemned man´s innocence.

Ever since, images of Santo Domingo have included a chicken or two. The whole time we were there, the rooster crowed every few minutes.

We said our tearful goodbyes to Patrick, who flies for home, and Petra, who is pressed for time and taking a bus to Burgos.

Just before 10 am, Eamon, Viola, and I set off into the still severe wind.

Somehow, we attacked the day with renewed energy, and we were in Granon almost before we knew it. We were feeling great, so we pressed on, passing a huge sign indicating that we had left La Rioja and had now entered the Burgos Province of Castile y Leon.

Almost immediately, the wind stopped.

We lunched on pinchos in Redecilla del Camino and decided that we were mighty and could walk to Belorado, a full day´s 23 km.

Needless to say, as soon as we left the village, the wind started up again.

The terrain was a series of bowl-shaped valleyes painted in brilliant green and set against a blazing blue sky. The contrast of the brilliant blues and greens was staggering, and sometimes it seemed as though we were the only people in the world.

Our spirits flagged by the time we got to the village of Villamajor del Rio, but there we passed by a group of Canadian pilgrims.

Huzzah! We were not the slowest pilgrims on the Camino!

The very thought gave us a renewedenergy against the wind, and we walked, rather than staggered, into the Albergue A Santiago in Belorado at about 4pm.

Originally published at Another Pilgrim on the Way