This morning was one of those days that makes most people want to stay in bed–rainy and cold. Other pilgrims were taking the train to Logrono and I was tempted. Dennis left the option to me, since I was the one thinking that the train fare could not be more than the cost of two nights in an albergue. Finally, I decided to move one. Dressed for the weather, we decided to ride the N-232. After riding 5 km (3 mi) up hill with a headwind to the entrance ramp, we discovered that we were not allowed on this section of the highway. We returned to the train station, but it was not yet opened. The only other way out of the city was the Camino on the side of the canal. We did not really want to take this since it had poured the during the night and the ground was wet and “sticky” for our skinny road tires. Without an alternative option, we set out for Tudela 34 km (21) miles away on the dirt and pebbly road. Touring bikes are not meant to be driven on this terrain. We jostled and bumped so much that we both ended up with saddle sores.
The sun came out and the view improved as we rode northwest. The ride was a gradual climb that would have been easily accomplished on mountain bikes. I stayed in the lower gears and tried to avoid the potholes and puddles. As our bottoms started to ache, we took more frequent breaks.
The view along the canal changed from mountains, to farmland, to tree copses. We heard birds, ducks, and saw storks. We passed a dilapidated church, a hermitage, several unidentified bridges with road crossings, villages, and a few levies. Since I was concentrating on the road, my view was mostly of my handlebars.
Imagine coming all this way to see this glorious view!
At last, we came to the end of the Camino by the canal and onto paved roads. Again the signage was missing and we ended up driving to the exit of the highway. Of course, we peddled up hill. By this point, I took all my energy to make it to the top. Backtracking, Dennis made a good guess about which road to take and, at last, we arrived at Tudela. When we got to the albergue, it was closed. We noted to phone number and went in search of a pay phone. A kind waitress at a pastry shop, called the hostel. They only accepted large groups or people who made reservations 24 hours earlier. We were SOL. Too tired to continue, we booked a room at the first hotel we found. After a hot shower, we went in search of food. Spanish custom is to have the large meal on Sunday afternoon. By 6 p.m. most restaurants are closed. After walking about a half mile, we found a bar that served meals. We returned to the hotel around 10 p.m. and went to bed after a long and tiring day.
