
Riding the Camino de Santiago on horseback through Rioja, Spain
As a young woman I had read about people walking the Camino de Santiago – a 900km journey from the French side of the Pyrenees across northern Spain to the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela – and I suppose I had placed it on my mental bucket list of things I would do “one day”. Now in my 50s, with a very full-time office job, 4 teenage children and a damaged disc in my lower spine, it felt as if that “one day” would never come. How could I possibly entertain walking for over 4 weeks with a back-pack when I got back-ache just doing a couple of hours walking on the moors at home?
Then one day a flyer for a riding holiday landed in my in-box. A holiday on horseback. Riding the Camino de Santiago….. I used to be a competent rider, could I let myself believe that I could do this ancient pilgrimage after all, on horseback…..? I investigated further. The Camino is often divided into four stages, the first from Roncesvalles to Santo Domingo de la Calzada, and the final stage takes you to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia. Each stage comprises 6 days riding, and you can book it stage by stage. I went to google maps to see where all those places are – and realised that the first stage crosses right through the Rioja wine region – my favourite wine. And a wonderful part of Spain, full of culture, history, architecture; proper unspoilt Spain…. My mind was made up, I was going to give it a go.
How could I resist the opportunity to combine horse riding and wine whilst taking a first step towards a near life-long ambition to experience the Camino de Santiago?
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Getting there
Although there are many different routes to walk the Camino de Santiago, one of the most popular is known as the Camino Frances which starts just on the French side of the border in the Pyrenees, at the town of Saint Jean Pied de Port (although I have heard of people starting much higher up in France, at Bordeaux). However, due to the difficult terrain our horse-riding trail was to start on the Spanish side, at the town of Roncesvalles. We had taken flights to Bilbao which arrived just too late for the official transfer, so had to take a taxi. We landed in Bilbao airport on a warm evening in early April, and it felt more like arriving in Scandinavia than Spain – the airport was in a clearing surrounded by greenery and pine forests, and despite the late hour it was still light. The greenery was extraordinary. Who would expect this of Spain? Urco, our taxi driver was waiting for us, and was equipped with everything for our journey, offering us drinks, any type of phone charging cable, music, films to watch on his ipad, stops for the toilet or coffee breaks on the way.
Eventually we turned off the main highway and started to wend our way round hairpin bends into the mountains that signal the border between France and Spain. Finally we arrived in Roncesvalles at the uncreatively named Hotel Roncesvalles where dinner was already being served. We left our bags at reception and walked into the dining hall to meet the other guests. This is always an anxious moment on a riding holiday – you will be living in close confines with a bunch of strangers for the following week. What sort of people would they be? Would you even be able to speak the same language? It turned out that for this week there would be eight guests – English, American, Swiss, German, Swedish, and of course our Spanish hosts: Constancia, her daughter Carlota, and faithful Alfonso, who drove the van, managed the horses, organised everything that needed organising. Later we were to be joined by Inucs, a friend of Carlota, crazy girl, cycle and horse enthusiast, lover of life, and – drum roll – masseuse! And did we need her later in the week!!
That first night’s dinner was a bit like a blind date, all strangers, catching snippets of information about one another, trying to gauge what each person is like. During a lull in the conversation, Carlota started to ask each person in turn a bit about who they were, what riding they’d done, why they had chosen to come on the Camino…. It felt like an ice-breaker but in reality she was gathering information to help her make important decisions. Up to then she had only been able to make a provisional allocation of horses based on an online form that each rider had been asked to complete. But now she had the people in front of her she was taking the opportunity to get the information to assess them. She is a modern-day Matchmaker! She has to assess the characters before her and pair them up with a suitable horse for the week. Horse and rider will be together for between 5 and 10 hours per day for the next 6 days, so this is an important pairing. But it seems that Carlota, despite her young age, is up to the task. She gauges temperaments well and makes her allocation. And everyone to a man/woman, has nothing but praise for their chosen horse by the end of the first day. A testament indeed to the skill of the Matchmaker.
Day One – Roncesvalles to Huarte
The day starts with a fulsome breakfast of Spanish tortilla, cheese, ham, eggs, tomatoes, fruit, yoghurt, pastries and lots of hot milky coffee. The breakfast room had the buzz of the Camino. So many people from so many places preparing themselves for the walk ahead. When asked by an Australian lady if I’m also “doing the Camino” I confess that I am, but that I’m cheating; I’m doing it, but on horseback. To my surprise everyone around sounded very excited by this idea. The romantic ideal of travelling by horse lives on, it seems…..
We left the hotel around 8.30am with our bags in the van for the 2 minute drive to the place where all the horses were tied up and waiting. The first morning’s ritual – the pairing of horse and rider. Anxiously we each await our turn to find out what horse we will be given. The excitement and trepidation. This is not like a centre-based riding holiday where it is easy to change horses if you don’t get on. This is a trek, and your horse is your guide for the whole week. What will my horse be like – reliable? Surefooted? Forward-going? Will I bond with her, will she trust me? The saddles seem strange to my English eye. Very large, like a Western saddle, with a large pommel, but unlike the typical Western saddle it also had a very high, ornate leather backrest and huge metal box-shaped stirrups. Following a hip replacement operation about 10 years earlier I had been left with a rather inflexible right hip, and that saddle looked rather unforgiving. Would I be able to swing my right leg high enough to get on? And as for getting off…..
There were horses of all shapes and sizes to suit all riders. Fortunately, as it turned out, they were pretty much all bombproof. And in our number were some near celebrity horses. Including one beautiful black gelding whose claim to fame was having been ridden by Antonio Banderas…..
One by one we were introduced to our horses, and told of their delights and their foibles. Finally, around 9.30am we were off. The jostle of horses as they find their order. A few walkers to pass by and wish “Buen Camino”. The walkers all stop as we go by and seem pleased to see the horses, some people almost in awe of them. I wonder how many centuries these paths have been travelled along by “pilgrims” in one guise or another. Everyone searching for something within themselves as they continue their journey. And I think about man’s relationship with the horse, for how many centuries we have travelled more easily thanks to our four-footed friends.
We are in the Pyrenees and although there are some open spaces mostly we are on tracks through woods, up mountains and down them. At some times its so steep it seems hardly feasible to travel by horse. I’m glad that my horse, Careto Bayo, wonderful Careto Bayo, is so sure-footed. He really is a dream horse; slender, responsive, forward going, sure-footed, I could not have hoped for a better companion. When we stop I ask Constancia to write down his name. So that I can ask for him should I ever find myself back here for the next stage of the Camino….


We pass fields with herds of horses, all very interested in our group, and often galloping across the field to the perimeter to get a closer look at us. They were very beautiful, palomino-coloured horses, with long manes. Someone comments that they are very stocky with legs that look too small for their weight and wonders what they are like to ride. I suggest that maybe they are more for eating than riding. Shocked gasps all round and I recount a visit to the Haras in Uzes, southern France where they pointed out one particularly stocky breed of horse which they said had only survived “thanks to the butcher”. In disbelief Carlota is asked the question, and sadly the answer is that they are mostly for eating.
After about three hours we stop in the little village of Lintzoain, which has nothing particularly remarkable except a public water trough where we can water the horses. There we waited for the farrier, as sadly a number of our horses had lost shoes on the way. A group of Japanese pilgrims walk past, seemingly fascinated by the horses, especially Pello, a large bay horse who at 17 hands 2 dominated the scene. These pilgrims were delighted to be able to stroke his shoulder and have their pictures taken alongside him.


Eventually we are off, and continue our descent out of the Pyrenees. Finally, at around 4pm, we travel through the small town of Zubiri, and eventually stop for a well-earned lunch. Wonderful Spanish home-cooked fare and enough of it to keep hunger away for quite a long time, washed down with plenty of easy drinking local red wine. Then we are back in the saddle again for another few hours to finally get to our resting place for the night, at Hotel Iriguibel, in Huarte, on the outskirts of Pamplona.
That evening we were driven into Pamplona (horses are prohibited from entering Pamplona city) for a Tapas dinner in a lovely traditional taperia in the centre of town. We left after midnight, weary, full, and wondering what the next day would bring.
Day Two – Huarte to Puente la Reina (via Muruzabel)
Sitting in the restaurant room in front of a window with sun streaming in first thing in the morning I feel a million miles away from the wet greyness of Yorkshire, which I now call home. One by one our group turn up and eat then at 9.45am (they are generously giving us a lie in after such a long day in the saddle yesterday) we pack everything into the van and set off to the other side of Pamplona to meet up with the horses which had already been prepared and were waiting for us.
The scenery was different now, we had descended from the mountains. There were undulating hills topped with modern windmills, bright green spring grass and a feeling of having suddenly arrived in Tuscany. It struck me what a vast variety of landscape there was in this part of Spain. The sun shone for us. Even the horses seemed more amenable this morning to getting ready quickly, and soon we were off down the road and on our way.
The first part of the way took us gently up-hill to the Alto del Perdon, the Hill of Repentance or Forgiveness. The idea is that with each step of the ascent to the top the pilgrim thinks of his or her wrongdoings and repents them, and thinks about the possible wrongdoings of those other pilgrims passing on the way, and forgives them. So, by the time you reach the top, you are unburdened, your sins have been forgiven by the fellow pilgrims, in some collective unspoken rite. It was windy on the top and groups of pilgrims sat around in huddles eating snacks, resting, chatting. We were obviously an interesting distraction for everyone, and we had time for a brief exchange with a cool bald Scandi-looking guy called Hans. He took photos for us. Our paths crossed again later that day and we greeted each other like old friends. A lady with an apple shared it with the horses.



After a short pause it was time to start the descent, slowly wending our way down the wide pebbled pathways and down into the flat lands with lush pale green fields against a huge blue sky. This was true Camino countryside, and we felt truly blessed.
After walking through a few small villages, and a couple of places for a trot and some stretches of canter, we finally arrived at the tiny picturesque settlement of Muruzabel. Here in the tree lined lawned square in front of the church we tied up our horses and went for lunch. Another 3 courses of honest, local fare, washed down with a few glasses of the local red wine, and we were all feeling relaxed and ready to continue. By the time we had finished though the weather had turned. A storm came up out of nowhere with big winds and rain. A flurry of activity to cover up the sheep skins on the saddles and we were off. A short ride this time to drop off the horses in a farmer’s field in Obanos before ending up in Hotel Jakue on the outskirts of Puente la Reina. We had a slightly more relaxed evening today, and there was time for those of us who wanted to have a half hour massage from wonderful Incus, masseuse-physiotherapist extraordinaire, who gave me a fantastic massage and lots of tips for stretches to do daily, and plenty of tips on generally how to live my life better 😊

Over dinner Connie handed out the Camino Passports or “Credencial” as they are known locally, together with our Camino shells to tie onto our saddles, symbols that we are pilgrims. She tells us that they were originally used by pilgrims to receive food, or collect water or wine as they received hospitality along the route. The purpose of the Passport is to verify your journey, and you should collect at least 2 stamps per day on the route – usually one is claimed at the lunch stop and the second from the overnight accommodation. The Passport is to be carefully guarded if you ever make it to Santiago and wish to claim your Compostela (a certificate written in Latin, issued to a named individual as proof of that they have completed the pilgrimage, at one time thought to be useful to show St Peter to assist entry through the gates of heaven) – you will need the stamped passport as proof of your journey.

Day Three – Obanos to Estella
After breakfast we were driven the short distance to Obanos to collect our horses. We then set off at about 10am on the path back to Puente la Reina, a beautiful traditional Camino town. The echo of our horses’ footsteps were heard long before our arrival. It felt most majestic, as people came out of shops and stood in doorways to watch us go by, all smiles and photos, shouts of “Buen Camino” ringing out around us.
Out of the town the path took us onwards through fields and eventually the path rose up steeply ahead of us, a narrow pathway through woods on either side which we flew up in fast trot. We then crossed the village of Mañeru, and then arrived at the vineyards, our first sight of true wine country. Interspersed amongst the fields of vines were small groves of short, manicured olive trees. We walked on, the route surrounded in the distance by low hills and from time to time we could see the bell towers of churches in the distance popping up on the horizon. We walked through the village of Lorca and stopped to water the horses at the public water fountain next to the children’s playground before pressing on. After about 5 hours in the saddle we finally reached our lunch destination. Horses tied to trees (all except for one old chap who didn’t like to be tied up and would quite happily wander around the grassy area where the others were tied up, no fear of running off into the road).

After lunch we had about 2 hours of easy riding through a beautiful flat landscape, with verges filled with colour and scent – purple lilacs, iris, bright red poppies and many varieties of yellow flowers that nobody seemed to know the name of. Our destination was stables just beyond Estella.
We were driven into Estella and had enough time for a wander around to explore the town before going to a local restaurant for a splendid dinner of vegetarian paella, fish tortilla, baked artichoke hearts and chorizo in cider.


Day Four – Estella to Viana
We met up at 8.30am and went to a café for a breakfast of pastries and hot milky coffee before setting off on what was going to be a long day in the saddle. We were traveling around 38km that day, heading to the wonderful Camino town of Viana, our last stop in Navarra before crossing over the county line into La Rioja. We were driven in the support van to the stables to meet the horses and soon were on our way. Today’s path was a very pleasant one, and very soon after we set off we arrived at the calm peacefulness of the Monastery of Santa Maria de Irache. We walk past a sign for “Fuente de Vino”, “Wine Fountain” and my curiosity is piqued, and I make a mental note to check it out if I ever find myself in the area again. Later on I looked it up and google told me that there is a long tradition of hospitality for pilgrims on this route (in fact at various places we walked past tables where people had put out food and drink and an honesty box for donations) and monks in the monastery used to hand out wine. The monastery is no longer in use but the winery next door continues the tradition and apparently the wine fountain is filled up daily.
It was a beautiful day, the sky a deep blue with a few clumps of floating cloud just above the horizon, the fields that bright green of spring, and hedgerows full of flowers. We passed many walkers, but one guy in particular took our attention. We later learned he was a Korean called Jung – although I may have the spelling wrong – and he was walking the Camino in just 3 weeks! But at this point we just knew him as “the Running Man” as our paths occasionally crossed, and his tactic for not getting held up behind our horses was to run past us when the path was wide enough. We didn’t see anyone else all week running the Camino, it seems it is arduous enough that most people are very satisfied to be walking it.
By 2pm we had arrived at Los Arcos, a small village of little note, but the support van was there waiting for us with buckets of water for the horses and small much-needed sandwiches for the riders. We rode on another hour or so to arrive at Torres del Rio for lunch.
That afternoon we had a beautiful ride through rolling countryside. The weather couldn’t have been better, the light in the sky fantastic, a real good-to-be-alive day. We rode past lots of walkers, all smiles, many taking photos and videos of us as we went past, and again our paths crossed with the Running Man. We went along a wide pathway through beautiful fields of fresh Spring green wheat just about a foot high, then vines, wooded hillsides, past wild flowers of yellow, lilac, filled with playing butterflies. A wonderful afternoon for just watching the scenery, relaxing, feeling alive.
Shortly before 8pm we arrived in Viana. This Camino town has been welcoming pilgrims for centuries, and you can sense the history in the old stone buildings and cobbled streets. It felt majestic to be riding into the town – quite different to the last time I visited on foot a couple of summers ago – kids stopped playing ball and ran to see us as we clip-clopped our way through the town. It was quite busy and we had a few hairy moments getting through crowds, everyone coming to a standstill (and rarely moving out of the way!), busy smiling and waving at us and taking photos, wishing us Buen Camino. Carlota commented that she always feels like a Princess when she arrives here on horseback, and she was exactly right. By now so many people had photographed us we were sure that somewhere we were turning into an internet sensation!
Our resting place that night was the Palacio de Pujadas, right in the centre of the old town, opposite the ruin of the church of San Pedro with its fantastic viewpoint over the Ebro Valley. We had time to walk around the town and visit the cathedral before stopping for dinner in the hotel.



Day Five – Viana to San Millan de la Cogolla/Najera
After a hastily eaten breakfast we set off early in the van to pick up the horses in fields just outside Viana. Once everyone was mounted and ready to ride we soon found ourselves on a small pathway through sparsely planted pine tree woods. It was a nice gentle trail, the horses were calm, the weather glorious. After some uneventful riding through beautiful countryside we crossed the border into the municipality of La Rioja and soon come to a large road bridge spanning the Ebro river. We were to catch many glimpses of the Ebro on our journey that week, a wonderful wide river, the longest in Spain, stretching all the way over to the Mediterranean. As we crossed the bridge we could see the town of Logroño rising up before us on the other side. Logroño is a sizeable town, the capital of La Rioja and home to its University. Alas, as part of a cavalcade of horses we were not able to stop and enjoy a glass of wine and plate of pintxos (the local version of tapas) at the famous Calle Laurel. We would have to save that for another time. I wondered how we would fare getting through the traffic on horseback. In fact, our passage was assisted by the network of cycle paths across the town, including at the larger roundabouts. Just as we were almost through the worst of the traffic, and with all of the horses behaving fantastically well, we are headed off in a side street by a couple of police men. With cars, pedestrians and café tables and chairs on either side of us, and blocking the road so no traffic could get through, I was fearful of what could happen as the horses grew impatient. I wondered if we were going to be told to turn back. But no, the police just wanted to ensure that we were aware that our presence in the town was tolerated, but conditional. Conditional on us clearing up our own horse poo!
Once through the city we soon arrived at a beautiful natural park, the Parque de la Grajera y La Barranca, about 5 kilometres from the town centre on the road to Navarrete. Here we passed plenty of locals enjoying their recreation – jogging, walking, fishing at the edge of a huge lake. Here we stopped to water the horses, and for a toilet break (with the luxury of public toilets instead of bushes!). And while we were waiting to get back on who should appear but the Running Man! He sought confirmation of which way to go because, he told us, he couldn’t afford to get lost. He only had 3 weeks to do the Camino before catching his flight back to Korea. Three weeks!! This 900km route is usually done in a minimum of 4 weeks, with many people taking 5 or 6 or even longer. Three weeks seemed impossible. But our Running Man was not put off. He scampered off, making good distance ahead of us before we set off again. After about another hour we arrived in the town of Navarette for lunch.



Navarette is a quaint Camino town built strategically on a hill and with a wonderful, ornate cathedral with a huge golden altar piece. Apparently renowned for the quality of its pottery as well as its wine we unfortunately didn’t have time for souvenir hunting. We left the horses tied up in the town square and sat for our lunch in a café terrace just next to the cathedral, a great spot from which to admire the town’s fantastic buildings.
The afternoon’s ride took about 3 hours through endless vineyards – we had certainly arrived in wine country. It was a relaxed afternoon with some good places to canter. There were some small hills but otherwise it was largely flat. A great change from the steep paths through the mountain on our first day’s descent from the Pyrenees. And we were blessed with glorious sunshine. Thankfully the pharmacy in Navarrete hadn’t yet closed for lunch when I got there and I was able to buy factor 50 suncream from a pharmacist who seemed to be delighted to have a customer who was a pilgrim on the Camino. Especially one on horseback!
It was still very early in Spring and the vines were just beginning to come to life. Gnarly old wooden branches, with tiny bursts of bright spring green leaves. On the horizon the low dark mountains on all sides, and above an enormous blue sky filled with whispy white clouds. We crossed through some vineyards with a large building, with “Vivanco” painted on the side. I know Vivanco from a previous trip to La Rioja, it is a renowned vineyard in Briones. Surely we couldn’t have got to Briones already!!! Later on I looked on a map and realised that we were going nowhere near Briones which is about 25km from Navarrete, in the wrong direction. The Vivanco vineyards were simply extensive.
Eventually our day’s riding was done and we left the horses just outside Najera, on the road out towards Tricio. We were taken by van on a 20-minute drive south to San Millan de la Cogolla where we had been booked into a guest house full of rustic charm.
Our guest house, Casa Rural la Calera, at first sight was in the middle of nowhere. An old, quiet, creaking house, with charming guest rooms, nicely furnished with antique furniture but with plenty of mod cons and many of the rooms had splendid corner jacuzzi baths in the en suite – a real delight for those aching muscles after so long in the saddle. The views from my bedroom window were quite spectacular. Without walking down the hill to the monastery there, you would never realise that you were staying in a place of great historical significance. Five minutes’ walk or so down the road took one to the Monastery of San Millan de la Cogolla, also known as the Yuso Monastery. It is in fact a UNESCO world heritage site, largely due to its connection with the origin of the Spanish language. Spanish evolved from an older language called Castilian, and the first ever written records of the Castilian language can be found in the Yuso Monastery. Unfortunately, by the time we got there the gates were closed and the visits over, so there was nothing to do but admire the architecture, some of which dates back to the 6th century.



Later that evening, after an enjoyable soak in the jacuzzi bath, and for some of us another massage from the lovely Inucs, we were taken by van to a restaurant in the nearby town, a little further on from the monastery, for another hearty meal, with plenty of rioja to wash it down.
Day Six – Najera to Santa Domingo de la Calzada
Day Six, our final day of riding! We had a good breakfast at the guest house in San Millan de la Cogolla before setting off in the van for the horses. They had been housed overnight in a farmer’s stables near Tricio, just outside Najera. This morning it seemed to take an age for everyone to get ready and the already mounted riders had to distract their hoses with the grassy verges. A mass sub-conscious desire to stop the ride from coming to an end, perhaps? Here we had to say goodbye to Inucs, as she was needed elsewhere to look after a cycling team. I had a feeling we might meet again some time. Eventually we were off, riding out across the Riojan countryside. Blue skies, brown earth with ancient vines, their small green buds ready to burst forth. It was a truly blessed day.
The riding was easy, the weather good, the scenery fantastic. It was a blissful day. We rode past all manner of flowers, different colours and scents in the hedgerows, lilac trees, blue cornflowers, red poppies, whole swathes of yellow oil seed rape. Gentle dark green hills rolling around in the background.
As we rode on through Azofa and Ciruena we had the long-winding Camino before us, like some huge ribbon unfolding in front of us. We could see little specks of walkers with their backpacks peppering the route ahead in places. Walking up and down the rolling hills, on a path cut through the greenest of fields, with yellow patchworks of oilseed rape in between. It seemed endless. I was sure if I had been on foot I’d have wanted to give up! It was relentless. We wondered how the Running Man was faring and whether he would make it in the short time he had allowed himself.


Then landscape before us changed and Santo Domingo de la Calzada was in sight, right in front of us in the distance – its ornate tower sticking up above all the other buildings. Hurrah!! Excitement at the prospect of soon reaching our destination mixed with sadness that the journey would soon be over and we would all be returning to our routine lives….
Suddenly the road dropped away in front of us down a steep slope, where in their infinite wisdom the local council had decided to lay a poured concrete road in place of the perfectly fine earth and pebble pathway that we had travelled on so far. The concrete road was steep and slippery. A few of us tried it, including me, on my reliable Careto Bayo, but even his feet slipped from under him and we quickly realised that this street was impassable for horses. This was a new development – last time Carlota had brought a ride through the road had not been built, it was a nice safe dirt and stone track like the rest of the route. On either side were farmers fields but they were banked up, and in most places not safe to cross onto. Eventually someone found a gap through and one by one we crossed over onto the edge of the planted field, the first horse being led by its rider on foot, eagerly looking out for holes, each horse following carefully in the footsteps of the horse in front. Eventually we made it past the offending road, and were back on the safe old-fashioned track. We had negotiated one final challenge on our route to Santo Domingo.
Shortly afterwards we were arriving at the entrance to Santo Domingo de la Calzada – not just any old Camino town, this one had the elevated status of being an End Stop. This is where the first stage of the Camino ended. Here, a pilgrim could allow theirself the feeling of Arrival. It felt like an achievement, and I wondered how much stronger that feeling would be on arrival at the final end stop, Santiago de Compostella. And I wondered whether I would ever make it there one day.

We dropped off the horses on the outskirts of the town. I took one final photo of my beautiful Careto Bayo and hoped I would have the opportunity to ride him again one day. After all our farewells we left the horses in Alfonso’s capable hands and returned to the town centre by van for a relaxing lunch. The restaurant was just opposite the entrance to the cathedral, and had laid out tables outside so we could enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. The food was of course rich and copious and the rioja wine flowed. It seemed strange to be eating lunch and not having to think about the afternoon’s riding.


Some of us went off to look at the sites and visit the cathedral, collecting the beautiful stamp of Santo Domingo on our Camino Passports. Inside the cathedral are pictures which depict the pilgrimage that is life. From birth, through the stages of life, to our end in the heavenly city where the Lamb of God is…. Everything is there, beautifully illustrated. The cathedral also houses live hens; descendants, apparently, of the original hen which (according to legend) jumped up and came to life, running around the bishop’s dining table despite having previously been strangled, plucked and roasted. A veritable Camino miracle!



Our journey done, we were then taken for our final night to the nearby town of Haro – wonderful unassuming Haro, capital of the Rioja wine region and place of great fun, with its annual wine battle, and its love of celebrations. Some of us visited the Vinotecca down the road from the central Plaza de la Paz, a sort of wine shop with a self-service tasting counter, a wonderful idea! We had dinner late, and then walked up the winding roads towards the cathedral – I’d been here previously at Easter time for the Semana Santa and followed the processions up these tiny ancient roads heaving with people. It was less busy now, we were past Easter, and not yet in Summer, but there was still a buzz in the streets, as people went out for a drink and a chat on a Friday evening. We ended up in the Bar Jarrero where Carlotta introduced us to Pacharan Navarro – an interesting local liquor, a bit like a cross between ouzo and sloe gin.



Day Seven – Departures
We all met up for breakfast at one of the restaurants on the main square, Plaza de la Paz. It was a strange feeling. Two of the guests were staying for a second week, and one lucky guy, Jeff, was doing another 3 weeks – he was riding the whole Camino in one go. For the rest of us this was the end of the road, for now at least. Connie and Carlotta took us by van to Bilboa – some were straight off to the airport, while I had the good fortune of having to spend a night in Bilbao and catch a flight home on the Sunday. As for our Spanish hosts, they would hopefully get a few hours break to go home and relax a little bit before travelling out again to the airport that evening to meet up with the next week’s pilgrims.
Postscript
Looking back now I realise that when I started out on this journey I felt like a bit of a cheat. Doing a pilgrimage. Really it was just a holiday, only on this holiday we started somewhere and finished somewhere else. And what sort of a pilgrimage? Not on foot, but on horseback. Sounded like a bit of a lazy option. But no, I had been wrong to think like that; we had our challenges, our shared difficulties, places where it was hard to find a way through, places where we had to dismount and lead our horses, places where people fell. But we got through it all together. Together, but in our different ways. And with a sense of adventure. And through it all we got to know each other better, and likewise ourselves. Which I suppose is the true spirit of a pilgrimage. A bit like Life itself.
With thanks to my fellow Pilgrims, for their companionship and the use of their photographs.
Kathy A T Hargreaves – May 2024