I had read that the best way to prepare for the rigors of walking the Camino is to walk the first week of the Camino.  I am beginning to feel the effects of that preparation.  The way to Estella promised to be about as pleasant as it gets, smooth and flat dirt roads passing through pleasant farms and vineyards, to pretty little villages with schoolchildren happy to give you a “Hola” and “Buen Camino” as you pass them by.   I woke up this morning really looking forward to walking!  And I wasn’t disappointed.

The easy pace of the day allowed me to get into “Camino-mode” quickly.   For me, that involves using the first part of each day for solitude, reflection, and even prayer.  For an introvert like me, it’s a glorious time.   Downloads from Audible.com allow me to listen to readings that support this meditation.  One might think that Ignatius, a native of Basque country, would be the obvious choice for this.  But my spiritual companions these days are Francis (as interpreted by Richard Rohr), Buddha (as explained by Jack Kornfield), and Luke (as in “The Gospel According to…”).

Rojia grape vineyards…

…and one vine up close

I was in that part of the region of Navarre that is home to the rojia grape.  The vineyards stretched out, and the Camino trail ran right through them.

My reference to “villages”  earlier does not mean to suggest that life here is primitive in any sense.  Northern Spain is very developed, and the houses in these little towns we pass through, though small, seem not to lack any modern amenity.  The towns themselves bore melodic names — Cirauqui, Villatuerta – and were often perched on a hillside with spectacular views.

Walking through the hillside village of Cirauqui…

On a few occasions, the trail took us over major highways that were as modern as any I’ve seen in America.  Spain is simply a gorgeous country.   Walking it really allows one to appreciate its beauty.

.. and crossing the highway headed to Logrono.

At Villatuerta, the last village before Estella, I stopped in the Church of the Assumption.  A favorite question among pilgrims is what was your favorite church.  There are so many.  Everyone I’ve seen is quite ornate.  Indeed, that word seems inadequate to describe them.  The churches themselves revel in greeting pilgrims, stamping your credencial, and taking note of where you came from, city and country.  A kind, older Spanish lady did that for me.

When Estella first came into view, I could see that it was no small village.  Not a city like Pamplona to be sure but a fairly good-size town. Instructions in my accommodation guide reflected that.  All of my accommodations thus far were either directly on the Camino road or just a short distance off of it.  The hotel in Estella was a few miles on the other side of town.  Accordingly, I was instructed to call when I passed a certain church and wait there while a van would come and pick me up.  My feet were happy to oblige.

It was festival day in Estella!

The town itself appeared to be in the middle of a festival patronal, a few days marking the patron saint of the town or area.  I never did figure out who that saint was, but as the van took me to the hotel, we passed numerous families decked out in the traditional red and white patriotic dress.

La comida at the hotel – salad, trout, rojia wine — was outstanding.  I have yet to have had a bad meal in Spain.