Green Fields and Poppies to Santo Domingo
Not a cloud in the big blue sky greeted me as I retrieved the hanging laundry, packed my bag, and stepped outside. Pilgrims passed by the Albergue one by one, heading up the hill and out of sight. Food was on my mind after yesterday's debacle, so I made for the cafés in the opposite direction.
Most people were already there or slowly arriving, securing breakfast or double-checking gear. I dropped my bag at a table and ordered the first thing I saw: a Spanish tortilla. Full and eager to start, I told everyone I'd see them in Santo Domingo, hoisted my pack, and climbed the densely packed cobblestone road toward the trail.
Tania was nowhere to be seen, but her trekking poles were gone, so she was probably already ahead. I emptied my pockets of trash, extended my poles, and fell into a steady rhythm. The morning's uphill walk forced me to shed my jacket as soon as I crested the hill, revealing irrigated farmland and distant mountains flanking the horizon. I didn't know it then, but it would be a long while before The Way took us through mountains again.
Water ran through pipes and canals alongside the trail, as the farmland transformed from small green plants to bushes, and back. Poppies erupted in vivid reds along one side, while the other fields were meticulously maintained to keep intruders at bay. The sun was relentless, and by the time I reached Azofra, the first town for a break, I was moving well and didn't stop. Perhaps a mistake.
After Azofra, the trail turned sharply toward the highway, then veered left into pure countryside. For the next 13 kilometers to Cirueña, there were no detours or rest stops. Still, I couldn't focus on the heat or the long stretch; my eyes were locked on the endless green fields in front of me. The gravel path of The Way sliced through the landscape like a bullet, splitting the verdant world in two. Islands of trees dotted distant hills, tractor lines stretched straight toward them, and wisps of white clouds traced shadows across the fields.
Finally, a rest stop appeared atop a steep hill, with benches, reclining chairs, and tiny statues. A perfect place to snack and rest. Soon after came the ghost town of Cirueña. A nearby golf course offered bathrooms (essential at this point) and on my way out, I ran into Tania. We walked together for a while, weaving through empty developments back to the open fields.
Santo Domingo slowly rose in the distance, dark gray clouds marching over southern hills. A herd of sheep accompanied us as we approached town. The Albergue was massive, with excellent amenities, and just as I checked in, the rain began to fall. With bars and restaurants closed for Sunday, we followed the usual routine: shower, laundry, nap.
Back in Logroño, I realized my flip-flops were inadequate for walking in town. A nearby store offered hiking sandals, and my investment felt like walking on air, saving my feet from the thin straps that had been tearing at them. I tested them on a stroll around town to get cash and visit the church, returning to find the others soaked from the rain.
Later, Leon and I explored Santo Domingo for nearly two hours, talking about work, philosophy, and our futures. Dinner consisted of the simplest pleasure: real eggs, which tasted incredible after days of limited options on the Camino.
Twenty kilometers felt easy today, with only brief stops, but the rain promised that tomorrow would bring a new challenge.