Very proud we had been walking for two hours before sunrise

 San Juan de Ortega to Burgos, 28km

From everything I have read in preparation for the camino, the entry into Burgos is most often cited as a very tough day. And it didn’t disappoint. 

We knew we had a bit of a day ahead and wanted to get ahead of the game with an early start. While our Spanish contingent wasn’t so keen on our early morning huddle, we still managed to get on the road by 7am, all sporting head torches and small-child excited to get in a bit of early morning stargazing.  All good fun until we had to find a few of the ubiquitous yellow arrows, but thankfully the path was pretty straightforward and we could relax and enjoy the peace and quiet of the dawn and the satisfaction of seeing the sunrise, knowing we had a few hours under our belt. 

The path in the morning was another lovely experience, meandering through fields and villages and over at least one substantial hill, but by about mid morning we were approaching the industrial outskirts of Burgos which feels like the biggest city we have been through even though I am assured Pamplona was bigger. After about an hour in factory land, we decided to take an option that was slightly longer but took us along a river to get into the city.  

It is amazing how much fun can be had when you put together four constantly hysterically tired people. Silliness seems to be the order of the day everyday and for me is really making this part of the trip so special. At one roadside restbreak, we three girls decided we would try and fix Gonzalo’s knee with just the power of our thoughts and all gathered around, laid out hands on his knee and broke out a group om. We then looked up at him expectantly, keen for the results of our camino miracle making, only to have him ask with perfect comedic timing, ‘Are you all drunk?’

While it was definitely the right choice, the river path just seemed to go on forever and we were beyond exhausted by the time we crossed a bridge and then had to weave our way through hectic city streets, suddenly conscious of the delightful smells we were emitting as we mingled with the fresh and fabulous. 

By the time we rounded a corner and found the cathedral that was our marker for the location of the albergue, I was meandering along at a snail’s pace, completely lost in the world of pain coming from the new blister farm on my feet. After three years of good, solid service without a single issue, my boots are suddenly a size too small … or more to the point, no matter how much I put them up whenever the opportunity arises, my feet are suddenly a size too big.  Bit of a conundrum there.  Silvana and I had even taken the desperate measure of sticking out feet into the icy river at one point, potentially polluting about 200 acres of farmland in the process and entertaining Daphne and Gonzalo with our squeals of pain. 

I am not saying the cathedral in Burgos was enough to completely take my mind off my feet, but it was a pretty spectacular distraction, with ornate spires seeming to rise up in every direction.   Perfect spot for Silvana and I to enjoy a well earned chocolate milkshake … 

The stunning spires of Burgos cathedral