Day 7 - Los Arcos to Logroño

Seven of us had a ‘communal’ dinner last might in the hostel at Los Arcos. A different kind of conversation, one lady’s husband had committed suicide and another of the guys there had tried to. To an extent I guess this is what Camino is about, ‘the ears of strangers are often safer than the hearts of friends’ as the saying goes. Anyway, I have nothing but admiration for this woman for the battles she has had to fight and for the way in which she was carving out a new future for herself.


Another clear, cold morning as I wound my way out of the village and into the fields and vineyards to the sound of the church bell striking seven. The path was lined with poppies and wildflowers and the rolling green hills of Rioja stretched into the distance, with the little towns and villages picked out in the morning sun.

My first encounter was with an American woman who asked me about the Sudanese flag on my rucksack. “I lived there for many years, fantastic place until it was destroyed” I lamented. “Sounds just like the United States of America” she replied, the sadness in her voice was marked and strangely penetrating.

A few miles on I fell into conversation with a lovely, gentle Australian chap of Indian origin, about my age and just here for the adventure. A passionate historian, he was fascinating to listen to. We seemed to have much in common and whiled away the day chatting about the world, about life and our children’s futures.

Arrived in Logroño, early afternoon. I have an hotel tonight, clean sheets, no snoring. Bliss xx


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