Free wine, Boots not made for walking, and Prehistoric Camino Pilgrims

First things first: my knee is much better. With the rest day I took in Pamplona combined with steady use of the knee brace I got, I'd say it's probably at about 90% or better. I can easily walk without a pack with no pain at all, and I have been hiking brace-free for about two days now with no real issues. Although it does start to hurt slightly after 6+ hours of hiking, I think this is probably more to with the fact that I am indeed walking on a hard surface for many hours on end rather than an indication of a more serious issue with my knee. But I plan to have a separate post on that specific issue (the trail itself), so more on that later...

My Camino narrative picks up during the rest day in Pamplona. At that point my knee was still very much in recovery mode, but I was able to take some time to tour Pamplona and do some sightseeing. Some highlights include...

The wonderful hotel where I stayed:

The stadium/entryway where the famous running of the bulls ends:

An artisan chocolate shop:

A rod and gun club:

And really, just the historic look of Pamplona in general:

I also took full advantage of the opportunity to stop by the post office and shuck some of my extra gear. Comparitevly speaking, my pack was already much lighter than I had carried on the AT, but as it turns out I was still carrying too much stuff; tent, sleeping pad, small cooking set (no stove), extra clothes...all things that could be sent home. Well...that was the plan, anyway. Until the lady at the post office informed me it would be 127 euros to get it stateside. She suggested instead that I mail my gear to the post office in Santiago, then pick it up on my way out once I get there. And it would only cost 20 euros. Great idea. It ended up saving me over 7.5 lbs. And as an added bonus, I was able to conduct the entire transaction in Spanish. Glad to see that three years of high school Spanish finally came in handy.

Yet while my rest day was very much needed on my part, the downside of it could not be ignored: my prior hiking crew had gone onwards, and I was now back in the mix of the nameless pilgrim herd. But all was not lost. Lessons from the AT dictate that it is highly likely I will see them again, so really I wasn't too dissapointed about being separated for the time being.

The next morning I got a late-ish start, but was able to make it to the next destination (Puenta la Reaina) with plenty of time to spare. The most notable landmark along this section, Alto de Perdon, is an iconic location of the Camino (featured in the movie The Way among many other places):

I also saw a basquetball court (seriously, look it up)...

And beautiful Spanish countryside...

With small countryside towns...

On repeat. For several days. From just after Alto de Perdon all the way to the city of Logrono. Featuring such towns as Ciraqui, Los Arcos and Estella.

Particularly interesting parts of this section include the free wine fountain of Irache:

(It was decent wine and refreshingly cold, but I hit it early in the morning and had zero desire to play slap bag with a camelback)

The houses in Estella with submerged backyards:

An odd building in a wooded area looking very much like some kind of bunker:

And the entrance to the water temple from Zelda:

There was also this odd arrangement of rocks I encountered just outside Estella:

It looked to be a religious wishing well of some kind. People had stacked rocks and left objects, notes, pictures, business cards...various odds and ends...even the remains of an Ocarina:

Remember kids, always carry a few extra faries in your first aid kit.

And speaking of first aid kits...I hit a good deal of trouble on my hike from Los Arcos to Logrono.

Since my hike started, I had been having trouble with my feet. They were always EXTREMELY sore at the end of the day, and I had been getting a steady stream of blisters. Initially I figured this was just typical early-hike lack of fitness...my feet weren't adjusted to prolonged walking yet, but I figured that eventually they would cease to hurt and the blisters would stop. Yet my hike from Los Arcos to Logrono was the tipping point where it became apparent that my issue was much worse.

For starters, it was the longest day I had attempted so far on the Camino (18.73 miles). I started out after a good night's sleep in the early morning, yet by 11 AM I was already starting to feel my feet hurting. So I stopped at a cafe and spent some time drinking coffee and hanging out with a fellow pilgrim until the pain receded. The weather was good, and the Spanish countryside is a pretty picturesque view to take in over morning coffee. Feeling better, I decided to continue to press on. But the pain quickly returned.

I could feel every rock I stepped on. I could feel every bit of uneven pavement, every dip in the dirt path, and every bit of every metal, wood, or concrete surface the trail went over. It was incredibly painful. Every step felt like I was walking on needles. And to make matters worse, my guidebook underestimated the distance between the two locations...I had likely exceeded 20 miles!

Once I got to Logrono, I resolved that I would NOT be leaving the city with the boots I came in with. My Merrels, my beloved Merrels, the same kind of boots that had gone through the AT with me and performed so admirably, had failed. I would need new ones. Further, I resolved that I would book a hotel room in Logrono and possibly take a rest day. I would likely have to do major foot maintenance, and it is better to do such things in private where a hostel full of hikers don't try to help you by telling you things you already know and go about shoving stacks of first aid supplies you already have in your face.

Yet my rough day wasn't over. I was about to learn a valuable lesson about the Camino: all hotels at the same price point are not created equal.

After entering Logrono in the very late afternoon, I hobbled my way down the Camino to a hotel my guidebook mentioned. 60 euros per night (about what my hotel in Pamplona was), free WiFi, restaurant on premises, and close to major shopping districts.

Perfect. I figured I'd get a room, soak my feet in the tub for a while, disinfect them, cut any dead skin, pop blisters, bandage them up, and use the remaining time in the day to shop for new shoes, using my flip flops to get around in the meantime.

As soon as I walked in, however, it was clear that this place wasn't going to live up to my experience in Pamplona. The man behind the desk appeared to be older (70's), wore a full suit, and definitely seemed to have this air of ego about him. The kind of guy who wants to do everything short of looking you square in the face and telling you he's the man in charge.

"Hi. One room, please"

I spoke in English because the posters in the lobby mentioning meals and special drinks had several languages on them, including English. I assumed he would accommodate in kind. Instead, however, he frowned. I prompted him again in Spanish.

"Hola. Una habitacion, por favor"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, then reached under the desk and pulled out a notepad. Without looking up, he uttered one word.

"Pasaporte."

Mind you, this is not a sentence. He did not say "May I see your passport?" Or even "Passport, please." Nor did he qualify WHICH passport he wanted (pilgrims generally carry two, the one for the Camino and the one for their respective country of origin). And I did, in fact, address him politely in Spanish after receiving a negative reaction for using English. So by all accounts, this guy was being a total dick.

I handed him my US passport. And, continuing with his apparent loyalty to the omerta of douchebaggery silence, he proceeded to take it and disappear into a back office. While saying nothing. He reemerged moments later with a photocopy.

"Tarjeta de Credito."

Wtf is this guy's problem? I WANT TO PATRONIZE THIS ESTABLISHMENT!

I handed over my credit card. So far I was getting nothing but a bad vibe, but I figured I could always leave if he kept being a dick and the room sucked or something. Generally hotels only run your card after your stay anyway, so there wasn't anything keeping me at this particular--

"WHIRRRRRR!....BIP!"

The credit card machine on the desk had spooled up and printed my receipt. That asshole had run my card.

"You. Sign."

He plunked down a room agreement written in Spanish on the counter I'm front of me. I started to read it.

"You. Sign."

I nodded, and continued to read it. After a moment, he interjected again.

"YOU. SIGN!"
"YES! I'M READING! OK?!"

Well. He dropped the Spanish, so fair's fair.

"Oh. Ok..."

I signed it. Nothing crazy in it, but given what had just taken place, I figured I couldn't be too careful.

"Seiscientos ay Una"

He handed me a room key. But not in the traditional sense as room keys have been for the last two decades in hotels. I mean he gave me an ACTUAL key. Which, surprise, had an ACTUAL mechanical problem. The door to my room wouldn't open with the key. Forcing me to return to front desk asshole. Who then looked at me like I was the asshole forcing him to do his job. He called a maintenance guy, who went back up to my room with me, and of course, opened the door first try.

"The lock sticks. When it does, just move the key a bit to get it loose, and the door will open."

...So...maybe you wanna fix it, maintenance guy?

The fun continued once I got to my room....as if out of spite, the front desk guy gave me the handicap room. No separate shower, and no tub:

Plus the whole place looked like it hadn't been updated or renovated since before Franco died. And to top it all off, the bed was extremely uncomfortable.

Add in that I was extremely tired, dirty, hungry, in pain, had pressing gear issues, and had just been robbed of 60 euros,  all in all I was not having a good day. BUT. No sense in dwelling on it. My pressing issue above all else was to get new boots. However long it was going to take.

I took a quick shower and tended to my feet for quite some time, researching "boots for Camino" all the while via the WiFi (at least that was working)

I kept pondering what had gone wrong with my Merrels. The most I could think of was that they were essentially mountain boots being used for the wrong application. The Merrels provide excellent foot/arch support and the lacing keeps the boots comfortably tight to the foot. As a result, they make quick work of wooded or loosely-packed mountainous trail with rough, varried terrain (such as the AT). However on a paved, packed surface, this supportive boot may have been working against me; the downward force of my body/pack meeting the unwaivering supportive platform strapped to my foot as it slammd repeatedly into the hard surface of the Camimo for days on end seemed like as good of a hypothesis as any.

My search for better boots had come up with many different options, but many were in a line of trail running shoes from a brand called Salomon. I was familiar with the brand; their shoes/boots were fan favorites of many hikers on the AT and I trusted them wholeheartedly. Now. How to get them...

I tried the path of least resistance first: Googling "hiking boots Logrono Spain." And it freaking worked.

In the list of results was a place called "Decathlon", which appeared to be a chain of sporting goods stores in Spain. It was a good distance away from my hotel, but appeared to be exactly what I needed (aside from a 24 hour REI, of course). Seemed like a great place to start.

And indeed it was. The next morning, I gladly left the hotel as quick as I could and headed straight there. With all my gear. Wearing my Rainbow flip flops (that's the brand, not the color) instead of my boots. My feet were still in rough shape, but after about an hour of walking, I made it.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Dick's Sporting Goods of Spain:

Might not look like much, but I was ecstatic. Inside were literally racks on racks on racks of hiking boots, athletic shoes, sporting goods of all types, up to and including clay pigeons and shotgun shells:

And to my overwhelming delight, they had ONE pair of Salomon's left in the store in my size. A pair of black XA Pro Ultra 3Ds. Which made the selection process extremely easy. Though part of me was worried that I was just switching out one set of Camino-defective boots for another, I knew that I didn't want to spend another second in my old boots. So I bought the Salomons. Along with a roll of anti-blister tape.  Which I immediately put on while sitting on a bench right outside the store moments later.

Additionally, also much like Dick's sporting goods, the Decathlon store just happened to be near a busy shopping mall. So I took the opportunity to stop by a pharmacy (ended up being about $45 worth of blister fixing supplies) and a grocery store (mainly to buy trail snacks, though they had NO FULL SNICKERS BARS. Mars Co. is failing Spain!)

I'll back up for a second. I realize $45 sounds like a lot in terms of blister fixing supplies. But this is because my feet were really messed up, and I needed a full spread of disinfectant, bandages, and slew of these things called Compeed strips. They are essentially a much better version of moleskin. They are supposed to be sweat resistant rubbery-plastic bubbles you put on hot spots to prevent from getting blisters. But I have been using them to put directly over popped blisters to prevent further friction with my boots. They're expensive as hell, though...about a buck a piece. And they only come 5 to a pack. So when your feet have about 4 blisters each, and you need 8 Compeed strips per day of various sizes, that's about $9.00 in total when you add in bandages and disinfectant. Per day. Multiply that by 5 days of hiking through small towns (where prices for these items are jacked up even more) to get to the next big city where you have a shot at buying them again for a reasonable price, and you end up with $45.

But yes. I bought all these things, had a quick lunch at a place on the Camino called "The Drunken Duck", and headed out of Logrono for a half-day's hike. And, as IT doctrine would dictate, when migrating hardware platforms, direct cutover is advisable, but only when a rollback is possible. I kept my old boots for a time, but only for my short hike to male sure my new ones were good to go:

Merrels on left, Salomons on right.

I felt terrible about trashing what were essentially brand new Merrels, but hey, when something fails, it fails. I pitched them once I got to a place called Navarette.

It was here that I met Frank the Scotsman.

Frank the Scotsman was from a city called Glasgow. He was an older gentleman (in his 50's), but he was the kind of guy that wasn't about to let that stop him from doing anything, up to and including hiking the Camino for the second time in two years. He said he had gone too fast the first time, and wanted to do it again at a bit of a slower pace. That, and he wanted to go to Finnister, which he had missed out on the first time around. Though there was a significant age gap between us, we became fast friends. Mainly centered around a passion for good drink, sporting nature, and sarcastic humor.

Now I have always prided my heritage on being of Scotch-Irish descent, but after meeting Frank, who was also Scotch-Irish (emphasis on the Scotch), it became quite clear that I didn't have a freaking clue. And after hiking with Frank for several days, evidence of this began to mount. Here are a few examples from the various interactions between Frank and I of me clearly not being on Frank's level of Scotch-Irishness: wit, culture, or otherwise:

Frank: That's quite a Surname you got there
Me: What, you mean McCabe?
Frank: Yes. I've known quite a many McCabes...none of them honest...You gamble, do you?
Me: Yes, I do like poker.
Frank: Of course you do...

Frank: So it looks like we've got nye 11 kilometers to the next Albergue (hostel) according to my book.
Me: Nah, my book says 8.8.
Frank: What makes your book so much better than mine?
Me: My book is correct, of course.
Frank: You know they say that about the Bible...

Frank: Are you sure this charger will work for my phone?
Me: Yes. 100%.
Frank: I've had many an engineer tell me that. Usually it's about two weeks before their last day...

-Middle of the day in sweltering heat. I order a soda from a cafe just off the trail-
Frank: What's that you're drinking?
Me: Coke
Frank: Oh. I could've sworn you were a man.
Me: What?
Frank: Oh nothing. Didn't anybody tell you? Men drink beer.

-Frank and I exit a small corner pub after several beers. I pause just outside the door. Frank immediately crosses the street and opens the door to the other corner pub several feet away-
Me: What are you doing?
Frank: Oh. I thought we were going out for a beer.

Frank and I's gallavamting aside, the hiking was somewhat dismal. The day after the bad weather was in the forecast, I wanted to make sure my rain gear was out from the bottom of my pack and ready where I could get to it. But long story short, my rain gear was missing.

I'd like to be able to say that I lost it, but that doesn't even sound plausible to me given that I know everything I am carrying and where in my pack I keep it. But I also know it is a far stretch to claim that someone stole it. Yet I also know that it is a highly desirable item in bad weather, that a good many people go out on the Camino unprepared, and that a good many hostels do not have lockers in which to put gear. It could have easily been taken out of my pack without me noticing...I kept it in the bottom pocket of my pack in a zippered pocket along with my waterproof pack cover. Pack cover was there. Jacket wasn't.

I had no choice but to hike on. But I was pissed beyond belief. I spent the first part of the day stressing about it to no end. It wasn't raining yet, but storm clouds were rolling in and the temperature was dropping. And hypothermia is no freaking joke.

Yet about 2/3 of the way through the day, I hit a town called Najiri. I took a break for lunch, still stressing about my rain jacket. How was I going to get one? I had been in a Decathlon less than two days before! I could've bought one then! And it's not like this random Spanish town was going to have a random sporting goods store anywhere near the Camino. Fuck it. No choice but to hike on.

I began finishing my soda and got my guidebook out to check the milage to the next town. It was then that I just happened to glance at a map of Najiri included in my guidebook and had an incredible stroke of luck. A picture of a tiny boot placed on a cross street not one mile from where I was.

A damn sporting goods store. In a random Spanish Town. Just off the Camino. I practically ran to the spot on the map. And sure enough, there it was:

An incredibly small shop. But they had rain jackets. Nice ones. Even nicer ones than the beat up mountain hardware one I was carrying before. And they had one left in my size.

What are the odds of getting both the last pair of boots I desperately needed AND the last rain jacket I desperately needed in places I just happened to be in at the exact time I needed both those items.

One of my fellow hikers said it best: On the Camino, there is no luck. Only God's will.

So now I am in Burgos taking another rest day (Frank had already seen the city on the first go around and decided to hike on). I got a GREAT hotel (a bit pricey, but still under $100 a night!) and I spent today touring the city. They have a great museum on human evolution. The quick version: they found some of the oldest human remains in history less than 50 km from the city at a place called Atapuerca, just off the Camino:

Dig site:

And put them in this museum:

I also checked out the museum of military history, but it didn't have much. The coolest thing they had was an original early Enigma machine made in 1923:

I also did a resupply on trail snacks and Compeed (though at this point my boots are doing very well and my feet are much better), and did an extremely overpriced load of laundry at the hotel. But only because the only laundromats are three miles away and I would've lost almost 4 hours of my day doing it...

And now, with all of that done, I prepare once again to head back onto the Camino. The weather isn't so good, but it could definitely be a lot worse.

I suppose it's all in a day's walk out here...