Day 8 - 30 April - Los Arcos to Logroño

As Elvis Presley famously sang:

Wub me tender, wub me sweet                      

Never wet me go                                                 

For my darwing, I wish yoo                                    

A buen caminio

It’s been a long one today. Eighteen miles from Los Arcos to the city of Logroño, the capital of the province of La Rioja. Despite the promise of relatively easy walking conditions, both terrain and weather, the distance was intimidating so we set off early with a view to taking it as easy as one can take eighteen miles. We left our accommodation at 07.01 and made our first stop at 07.03 for breakfast and coffee which we duly consumed sat on a rickety wooden bench opposite. We got going properly at 07.18. 

Out of Los Arcos, the surroundings were pleasant improving to very pleasant over the next thirteen miles until we arrived in the town of Viana which old town was bloody lovely. We stopped for a beer and some delicious pintxos there, sat in the town square with Manoelle and Gaelle, two Belgian ladies whom we had seen regularly over the last few days, albeit not having previously properly introduced ourselves. 

From Viana it was all a bit downhill both literally and metaphorically as we trudged the final five miles towards Logroño. The countryside gave way to industry, urbanisation and concrete and our feet generally just gave way. However, the recuperative effects of thirst and hunger soon saw us out on the streets of, as it transpires, Logroño the party town. This place is jam packed with hen parties and stag do’s, and not to mention peregrinos (pilgrims). Within ten minutes, we were sat drinking beer with Kelsey and Katie from the USA together with Charlie and Lisa who we met at the albergue in Urdaniz four days ago. 

Unfortunately I didn't have a stick with me with which to beat off unwanted attention from attractive young ladies on a hen night so I reluctantly had to dance with the brunette after she practically begged me. To be fair, I think I was a bet. See if you can get that old, bald geezer up dancing type of thing. Either way it was a win win.

Later on, it was nice to bump into Michael from Switzerland of whom keen readers of this blog (is there such a thing?) will be pleased to know that I am so very over.

But I have to tell you about Henry. Second only to the Americans, in terms of numbers on the Camino, are the Koreans. And they are unfailingly nice and polite and some of them quite bonkers. Henry takes friendly to new levels. He embraces the bar owners, shakes hands with the waiters and buys beers for anyone who comes within two metres of him. But you can be too friendly. He was sat next to Mrs C in the bar when she was suddenly afflicted with a thigh cramp. She leapt from her chair and pogo’d around the bar shout-whispering “Ooh. Ouch. Cramp. Cramp in my thigh. Ouch”. 

I have some advice for Henry. In such circumstances, when husband of the afflicted is present, you do not leap out of your own chair shouting “you want I wub your leg? I wub your leg. Let me wub it”.

It’s just not cricket old boy. 

And talking of cricket, arrival in Logroño marks the one hundred mile point of our Camino adventure. One hundred not out, having survived Henry’s leg before appeal.