Chapter 15: Logroño to Navarrete: Is 800m LESS THAN 1KM???

We left Logroño and Becky drew up the next few days’ route. She made some crack about how 800m was less than a kilometer, as if I didn’t know that, and so I have been playing dumb and asking whether every distance we see is more or less than a kilometer. It’s the little things that sustain a relationship, and if you ever need tips on how to drive your partner to want to Munchausen-by-proxy you to death, please email me.

We walked what was essentially a park path out of Logroño, which made me love that city even more. It’s been my favorite place so far to be, and I absolutely loved the whole place. We even had a minor run-in with the police when we dropped something and they chased after us to return it. Wonderful place. I’d live there.

Everyone’s favorite little limper stopped every few kilometers to check her tender tootsies and determined she would make it if we took a shorter day. That was…sort of true. The first place we stopped was a wall before some big pond. It was lined with old Spanish men who set up fishing rods and then sat on park benches and argued SO LOUDLY. Unsurprisingly, during the entire time we were there, they caught nothing. I’m quite sure the fishing poles were just a ruse to get out of their houses and just sit with their friends, but nonetheless, it was absolutely what I want to do with my retirement.

She re-patched and we kept walking. Admittedly, the rest of the walk was tough. She was brave and tried so hard, but we eventually reached a point of her having to stop RIGHT before Navarrete so I could do some impromptu surgery. As it turns out, my steady hands and her ability to take over every situation paid off. I stabbed where she told me to with a sanitized sewing needle. I hit the jackpot and she pretty much Riverdanced through Navarrete.

We weren’t really prepared for the place we had booked. We knew we needed a semi private place in case we had to tourniquet and do some Civil War field surgery, so we booked a spot that was cheap and close.

It was kind of like…a museum of old objects with no apparent connection. The gentleman who owned this place was eccentric and accommodating. Our room was an icebox, but we got dinner in a place with “western” style meals, and two Brits, who admitted openly that they were in a great deal of pain as well, and that they’d also had to hail a cab, which Becky took great solace in, and steeled her resolve with. After dinner it was off to bed, and onto wherever her feet would carry us. I won’t make you wait for the details, her feet in the morning were so good, she woke me up by singing the Aladdin soundtrack at me…not being a morning person, this was both unnecessary and jarring, but I’ll be honest, I’m so glad to see her smile that I’ll take the singing, but we might have to talk Maeve into maybe providing some lessons. Anyways,

Thanks for reading! We’re trying to keep it light and honest. Please leave your comments we are absolutely loving them. If we don’t respond it’s just because we are walking or I’m asking how many meters are in a kilometer.