20.2km

We all leave the hostel at about the same time at 8.30am. It is a cool 1°C morning.

They all go ahead and I decide to have breakfast by myself at some public stone benches within the town. It is rather empty and I enjoy having breakfast on my own in a quiet town.

I leave the town among golden houses and trees. Up a slope to farmland, Torres del Río is picturesque behind.

Going uphill, I have an elevated view of the environment around me. The surrounding landscape is a mix of autumnal plants and leaves with frost still on them, especially those in the hills’ shadow. I feel privileged that I am able to walk and enjoy all this. My upward steps are accompanied by the rhythmic tinkling of the shell on my bag.

After some vineyards, I come to a nice bench area and have my second breakfast, which includes bread with some crema de jamón york, which I find tastes like luncheon meat. The sun is bright, and I feel so happy right here with my picnic. A thought crosses my mind—why is no one here with me? Of all the people in the world, only I have decided to be right here, at this time, having this nice meal. Everyone else in this world has chosen differently now. Oh, but it would be nice for them to share in such a beautiful moment.

There is some highway walking, and Viana (which is at the halfway point today) reveals itself, looking quite pretty from a distance.

But entering it feels like entering a quiet suburban town. I walk a bit more and reach its medieval centre which is more interesting. A modern bustling bar called El Bordon catches my attention. I’m happy to use the toilet, and order two pintxos plus a café con leche. The coffee is nice but the dishes are only ok.

I see the entrance to some church ruins, Ruinas de San Pedro, and go in to take a look. There’s a nice garden balcony area which gives amazing views of the valley below.

I continue on, towards misty silhouettes of a mountain range beyond the vineyard. As I approach a church, something smells great. I go past the church and behind it see a family having a barbeque, and realise I do miss them. Viana recedes behind me as I walk past more farmland and vineyards.

I approach what looks like a plot of trees in the middle of the fields, which turns out to be like…a micro nature reserve? It’s pretty nice inside with dappled sunlight. At the end of it. I cross an overhead bridge over a highway, and continue on a tree-lined path along the highway, with the occasional sound of fast cars.

It then leads to a long paved road towards Logroño among factories and warehouses, which is the most boring part of the Camino so far.

Logroño looks big, like Pamplona. After crossing a bridge, I arrive at the albergue with Samuel waving from a window, and Guti and Diego opening the door to welcome me.

We are heading out for…lunch? Whatever you call the 4pm meal for walkers. It’s at a place called Café Moderno, which Diego says he always eats at when he’s in Logroño for the Camino. For the menú del día, I get garbanzos (chickpeas) stew, bacalao (cod), tarta con queso (cheesecake, this one with blueberry jam)—I realise Basque cheesecake is still my favourite—alongside bread, wine and beer. We end the meal with cafés con leche.

Guti tells us this is his last stop for now and he is returning to Madrid tomorrow, to our dismay.

I learn that they say “patata” (potato) when taking a photo, as in, “PA-TA-TAA”.

We exit the restaurant and suddenly the city is cold and foggy, like what we expected when we decided to do a winter Camino. We take refuge in a church, which is warm inside.

Back at the albergue, I freshen up, and am about to write, and sleep, when they say they are going out for some tapas. At first I decline, feeling comfortable, but just a minute later I regret it and say I’m coming. The night is young, and it is Guti’s last one with us. I get changed and catch up with them.

What ensues is a delightful night of tapas bar hopping, my first. It’s also dangerous because every tapa is accompanied with a small beer. The town is alive, perhaps because of the holiday, perhaps because it’s a Friday night. I also learn at a later stage that this is Calle Laurel, a famous tapas street.

We start with salchichón (cured sausage), then calamares (squid). Then a standout, a mushroom prawn tapa from a place called Bar Angel which only serves it. We then follow with pulpo a la brasa (grilled octopus) which is great, and end the night with gilda, which I love. The group takes turns to treat each tapa, which is sweet.

What a great bunch of people I’ve met. I will miss Guti.