Sunrise Walking to Logroño
Morning arrived gently in Torres del Rio, with a soft breeze drifting through open windows and tossing the thin lace curtains in its wake. The sunrise was spectacular, with burning reds, glowing pinks, and warm yellows spreading across the fields. I had never seen nature so alive and radiant at this early hour. As we left the town and began the climb, I stole a look back at Monjardin across the fields. For the first time, I could truly measure the distance we had already traveled, and it was humbling.
Our path led past decorative cairns stacked in intricate formations and trees adorned with colorful ribbons, tokens of respect and remembrance from past pilgrims. Old stone benches and abandoned farmhouses occasionally appeared, some damaged by those seeking quick relief during the journey. Steep ascents and descents emerged unexpectedly, and a French companion showed us how to walk downhill "like a monkey" to reduce strain on our knees. It looked awkward but worked surprisingly well.
Viana appeared in the distance as we returned to the highway, with passing cars offering either encouragement or disdain. We stopped briefly for some window shopping and I replaced my Lollapalooza hat with a full-brimmed one, a necessity after suffering another sunburn. The small church in town was beautiful despite its modest exterior and open-air courtyard, the result of a fire in the 13th century. Soon we left Viana behind and returned to the familiar dirt paths, fields, and countryside that have begun to feel like home.
Arrows and messages made of pebbles dotted the sides of the trail, remnants from past pilgrims, guiding us toward Logroño. Wooden steps carried us over the highway, and I turned back to see Viana shrinking in the distance, a reminder of both how far we had come and how far we still had to go. Rain returned as a companion, and the path became paved again. Careful steps were required to avoid caterpillars crossing the trail. Soon, signs marked our entry into La Rioja, the region celebrated for its red wine.
The final stretch led us along the Ebro River and through city parks, streets glistening from fresh rain. The Puente de Piedra carried us into the old town, where quiet streets and nearly empty sidewalks made navigation tricky. After consulting the tourist center for a map, we settled on an albergue near the edge of the old city that offered beds and dinner at a fair price. Logroño is a beautiful city, its streets decorated with charm, and the massive church at the center commanding attention with each chime of the bells. We found some familiar faces (Martha, Amy, and Tracey) relaxing in the main square. Despite the city's size, the Camino's magic persisted. Tomorrow promised smaller towns and calmer streets, and I hoped my new hat would finally be enough to protect me from the sun.