28 Sep 2023: Navarrete

I’m up at 6 and underway at 7:15; it’s a “normal” length day ahead, all gentle climb except for one big hill, it will be hot later, and I am hungry. My usual reason for delayed departure until sunrise is the (in)ability to see route markers, but with the many high-intensity streetlights, it’s almost as bright as day, all night long. (Remember, I’m from Seattle; my standards for daylight are literally quite dismal.)

I’m hoping some breakfast spot will be open at 7:00. Nope. I keep walking; it’s a long time to get out of a city. 7:30? Nope, not even a light indicating preparations. As I near the route intersection (I’m hypotenuse-ing from the pension), I spot several workmen standing on a corner. I wonder if they are perhaps day workers – but no! They’re drinking coffee and smoking. There’s a cafe and it’s open!

A half-hour later, reinforced by a tortilla con patata (omelet with potato) and a cafe americano (slightly diluted espresso) , a bocadillo jamon (ham sandwich) tucked away safely in my grub sack, I’m off again. Logrono is certainly a pretty city, well worth a rest day and even another visit sometime. After all, I’ve barely scratched the surface of that booklet of pinchos bars!

The route out of town is very pleasant, a paved pilgrim walkway leading from one city park to the next, until we reach the outskirts where the bike boulevard gets its own lane. Many sycamore trees everywhere, and — unbelievably — there are still roses blooming. They all seem to be this same shade, so I assume the same variety.

Our stroll through the regional park continues until the 8km point. Just as we leave the park, there is a seasonal stand with fruit, souvenir pins, and a forest of walking staffs. Some of these are quite tall, over 6ft (2m), carved shepherd crooks from a single piece of wood; the sort of thing you could never get on a plane.

Leaving the shady park behind, we are back in the industrial vineyards, climbing the hill in the sun. Fortunately it’s a farm road, with an auto grade, so the incline is not too bad. Once over the top, we pick up some occasional shade as we oversee the freeway construction.

Navarrete is an old town, a hill town, a small town. But then these old places tend to be quite compact; it comes from the enclosing city walls, so necessary for defense during Spain’s interminable wars.

Consulting the map indicates that my lodging is on the outskirts of town. That will make tomorrow slightly shorter but I really should look at the map before booking these places, darnit. And they don’t do dinner—I should have checked that too. So I find a bar that’s open, have another tortilla con patata and a pork and cheese toasted sandwich, say hi to old friends, and set out to find this place.

The room is fine, the hot afternoon makes quick work of the laundry, and i chat up a German gal who has been walking 11 weeks. She started from her front door in Baden.

After solving the problems of the world, we decided to go back into town for dinner. Finding places open at 6 can be a challenge, but we found one with a pilgrim menu: mixed salad (with tuna, a meal in itself), roast pork knuckle (shank), and pears in red wine for dessert. A huge amount of food but satisfying.

Lodging: Alburgue a La Sombra, Navarrete