Camino Logroño, Day 2 was all about the art of a proper Camino rest day—trading blistered trails for memory foam pillows, air conditioning, and a luxurious lie-in until 8:00 a.m. We started the morning savoring the simple magic of a home-cooked breakfast in our Airbnb kitchen, complete with fresh local eggs and produce, before diving into the glamorous reality of mid-trek chores. Between a load of laundry, stocking up at beauty store Primo, and a victorious 40-minute quest across town for toe socks and insoles, our rest day felt more like an urban scavenger hunt than poolside lounging. We naturally capped it off with a second, glorious round of tapas exploration—devouring smoked goat cheese with walnuts and angel mushrooms, paired with a properly served, cinnamon-lemon zurracapote —resting up for the daunting 30 km stretch awaiting us tomorrow.

Day 11 on the Camino from Viana to Logrono proved that a short 10 km stroll from Viana can easily turn into a marathon of sights, bites, and delightfully absurd cultural mix-ups. After starting the morning with warm cappuccinos under a mountain sunrise, we crossed lush Rioja vineyards and made a beeline for the vibrant streets of Logroño’s old town. The afternoon transformed into a sprawling tapas crawl down the legendary Calle Laurel—highlighted by sizzling, garlic-drenched mushrooms at the famous standing-room-only Bar Soriano and an impromptu wine-tasting “exam” where a bartender accidentally served us rosé instead of the local spiced zurracapote. From scoring a luxurious $55 Airbnb with a saintly washing machine to navigating optical stores for contact solution and accidentally almost buying a €9 block of cheese instead of cheesecake, our shortest day on the trail unexpectedly became one of our fullest yet.

Leaving Los Arcos to Viana in the crisp, cool morning air, Day 10 of our Camino journey brought us to one of the most unexpected highlights of the trip: the 12th-century *Iglesia del Santo Sepulcro* in Torres del Río. Stepping into that ancient, octagonal Templar church, I found myself face-to-face with a 13th-century sculpture of Christ whose lifelike, compassionate eyes felt so human they seemed ready to open right before us. The trail carried us onward past olive groves, vineyards, and quiet roadside shrines, interweaving our steps with fellow wanderers—from gap-year students questioning their futures to resilient souls processing deep loss. We wrapped up the 20-kilometer trek in Viana, trading the quiet of the trail for pintxos, cider, and the simple joy of sitting in the town square watching local kids play soccer as the evening settled in.

Day 9 on the Camino: Estella to Los Arcos. The morning air in Estella was crisp as we laced up our boots for our longest stretch yet—a 28-kilometer push to Los Arcos—and little did we know how deeply this day would balance lighthearted luck with profound human connection. After a slow breakfast in Ayegui, where we watched lingering fiesta-goers stumble through the morning, our brief delay paid off in pure magic: we arrived at the legendary *Fuente del Vino* just as a winery employee flipped the master switch, treating us to a free, slightly fizzy morning sip. As we pushed through the intense midday heat under our trail umbrellas, taking in views of mountain vineyards and passing kindness to fellow walkers along the way, we could feel our bodies transforming and adapting to the long haul. But the true heart of the Camino waited for us at the end of the road in Los Arcos. Over a €10 pilgrim menu of lentil soup and shared wine at *Restaurante Abuela*, our table filled with raw, unforgettable stories—a widower walking for his late wife of 36 years, a German father confronting years of depression, and a woman rebuilding her life after a broken engagement. From early-morning wine fountains with bloodshot revelers to quiet evening tears shared with strangers, Day 9 captured the entire essence of the trail in a single, 28-kilometer journey: an unexpectedly beautiful space where the broken, the seeking, and the hopeful walk together.

From creaking metal bunk beds in Lorca to the serene, sunlight-dappled cloisters of Estella, Day 8 on the Camino Lorca to Estella delivered the full spectrum of the Camino experience across a rewarding 21-kilometer stretch. We started the morning with stale bread and broken showerheads, but the trail quickly balanced the scales: we mastered the four-legged rhythm of hiking with two poles, stumbled upon a €6.80 breakfast miracle of warm tortilla and guava pastry in Villatuerta, and shared quiet moments inside the abandoned walls of Ermita de San Miguel. By afternoon, we traded last night’s squeaky springs for the spotless comfort of Agora Hostel before wandering Estella’s medieval streets—marvelling at the Romanesque architecture of Iglesia de San Pedro de la Rúa, crossing the ancient River Ega bridge, and sipping local wine as the Plaza de los Fueros came alive for the evening, all while anticipating tomorrow’s promise of free wine for breakfast.

write an excerpt for this blog post: Day 7 on the Camino: Puente la Reina to Lorca
Short Days, New Faces, and the Legend of the Blue Sheep
Sometimes your body tells you to slow down, and you’re wise to listen. Ashley’s toes were hurting, my right foot arch was aching, and we’d been walking with the same group of people for six days straight. It felt like time for a change.
Instead of the planned 21+ kilometers, we decided to walk just 11 kilometers to the town of Lorca. This also meant we would get off stage, and it would hopefully be easier to find accommodations.The next town of Estella was already booked solid and we would have had to make plans to share a room with others. 
Bittersweet Farewells
It was a little bittersweet, honestly. Over the past six days, we’d created a sort of Camino family—the couple from Ireland, Belinda, Alina, the family from Hawaii, and the family from San Diego. We’d shared meals, swapped stories, and crossed paths again and again. By splitting the journey differently now, we’d see different people, experience a different rhythm.
That’s the nature of the Camino: connections form and dissolve, pilgrims leapfrog each other, some rush ahead while others linger behind.
A Leisurely Morning
We checked out of our hotel at 8:00 AM and walked toward the town center of Puente la Reina. Soon we passed a café that looked inviting and stopped for breakfast: café con leche with a small ham sandwich for me, orange juice and a ham and cheese sandwich for Ashley.
We took it easy for 30 minutes, savoring our breakfast without the usual rush. This was going to be a different kind of day.
The Roman Bridge
Right before crossing out of town, we went down to the right to get a good view of the 11th-century Roman bridge. It was beautiful—six graceful stone arches spanning the water. We relaxed for a bit, taking it in.
Then we proceeded across the bridge and made a left onto a parallel modern bridge, which provided an amazing perspective of the ancient Roman structure. There’s something humbling about walking where countless pilgrims have walked for nearly a thousand years.
Through Fields and Heat
The path led us through trees lined with yellow flowers, then dirt paths and stone trails—a gradual up-and-down hike. We passed through small towns, olive trees, and vineyards.
We stopped in one town to grab beers, Coke, and bocadillos. The bocadillos were delicious—we tried one with Spanish sausage immediately and saved the other (a Spanish omelet with peppers) for later.
The walk itself wasn’t too difficult, but what made it challenging was the extreme heat. The temperature read 77°F but felt like 87°F. In reality, it felt more like 100°F out there.
We had to pull out our small umbrellas and hold them overhead for shade. It helped relieve some of the heat, but we both agreed: tomorrow morning, we’re starting earlier. No question about it.
Lorca: A Different Kind of Stay
We finally reached Lorca, where two albergues faced each other. We were staying at the one on the left side.
We checked in to discover a very basic hostel—a far cry from last night’s glamping luxury. We were in a room full of eight metal bunk beds with just one small fan, a shared outlet to charge everyone’s phones, and a single shower that kind of worked. We both joked about how opposite it was from our experience the night before in the canvas-topped boutique room.
But you know what? That’s the Camino too. Luxury one night, metal bunks the next.
We took showers, did laundry, and then soaked our feet in Epsom salt water, which provided glorious relief.
A Simple Dinner, Rich Conversations
We weren’t feeling like a full pilgrim meal, so we had the kitchen make us two ham and cheese sandwiches. Simple but delicious. 
We struck up a conversation with a guy from Australia who was turning 70 next month. His granddaughter had convinced him to do this trip, and she’d be joining him for the last 300 kilometers.
His journey just to get here was extraordinary: Australia to Dubai, then to Uganda, then to Ireland, then to Italy, then to Spain, then to France. He runs and helps with a ministry in Uganda, and it was refreshing to hear about the work his team does—including building schools for children.
We also ran into a Christian group from Indiana and got to hear about their faith journey.
The Legend of the Blue Sheep
Before bed, we read a story posted at our albergue—”The Story of the Blue Sheep, Our Sacred Patron Animal.” I have to share it in full:
As I begun my first Camino on a fresh September day, carrying a backpack equipped for any Himalayan base camp trek, I hurt my toes wearing my serious mountaineer boots. Then, still well before Roncesvalles, I ran out of water. Somewhere before Ibañeta pass, I lost my way, exhausted, and crying because of my terrible thirst.
And it is then—I kid you not—I saw a blue sheep. A really blue-coated sheep, all alone just like me. And I decided to follow it.
Where did she lead me to? To a shepherd, his dog, and his flock, and WATER! So my Camino was saved that day by that blue sheep.
The shepherd explained (in beautiful English, too) that the sheep was spray-painted because she always went off on her own, and this way they could find her easier. My savior, my sacred patron from the Pyrenees.
This story perfectly captures the magic of the Camino. Sometimes salvation comes in the most unexpected forms—even a spray-painted sheep who also tends to wander off alone.
As I lay in my metal bunk that night, fan whirring but not cooling down the room, I thought about that blue sheep. About how we’re all a little bit like her—wandering off on our own, marked in our own ways so we can be found, leading others to water even when we don’t realize it.
Tomorrow we’d start early to beat the heat. But tonight, we’d rest our aching feet and give thanks for blue sheep, both literal and metaphorical.
Distance: 11 kilometers
Walking time: 3-4 hours
Temperature: Brutally hot
Accommodation: Metal bunks and humility
Lesson learned: Sometimes the short days teach us the most

June 11, 2025 | Day 6: Pamplona to Puente la Reina
The weather forecast called for a scorcher, so we hit the trail by 6:30 AM—our earliest start yet. Outside a small café, over crisp morning air, fresh orange juice, and Spanish tortilla, we watched a curious local cat dart between the outdoor tables. It was serene, cool, and a gentle calm before the heat.

As the pavement gave way to true trail and my new hiking poles found their rhythm, the long, gradual climb toward Alto del Perdón began. Behind us, Pamplona shrank into the valley; ahead, massive wind turbines carved slow, steady arcs across the horizon. At the summit stood the iconic iron sculpture of historic pilgrims—shepherds, donkeys, and weary travelers bound by time. Etched nearby, a simple reminder:

“Where the way of the wind crosses that of the stars.”

After days of pre-dawn alarms and monastery bells, Day 5 brought nine glorious hours of sleep and a chance to slow down in Pamplona. From Hemingway’s favorite haunts and cathedral crypts to bull-running history and late-night pintxos, here is what happens when pilgrims take a well-deserved rest day to simply savor the journey.