Looking Back on the Camino Ebro

 

Looking Back on the Camino Ebro

Another Camino de Santiago under the belt. ... or should I say under the feet?

During the end of June and most of July, this year, 2025, Deb and I hiked 240 miles through northeast Spain from the Mediterranean Sea (south of Barcelona), through the autonomous communities of Cataluna, Aragon, Navarre and La Rioja.

Our goal was simple: to follow the Río Ebro up-river. 

As we continued our northwest hike, the geography went from a river delta, through rice fields, over the Sierra de Pandols mountains, and then days of endless farms of grains and fruits … and many vineyards.

We visited cities like Zaragoza and Logrono, both founded more than 2000 years ago, and mixed it up with the residents of towns and hamlets, some with populations of only hundreds.

Mouth of the Río Ebro - Sunrise

The Río Ebro was the metaphor for this hiking adventure. As we moved farther and farther upriver, the same sets of conditions repeated themselves: the Ebro bent and twisted, became hemmed in and then free-flowing, was still or churning, crowded or empty. 

We followed the river northwestward along the pilgrimage trails of the 10th and 11th centuries along which those seeking grace, walked to Logrono to join up with the main route into Santiago de Compostela. Our guide was the river, as we walked along its banks, with the sun marking east, off our right shoulder in the mornings and marking north by beating down on our backs by noon.

Not once did we see another pilgrim, nor hear of other pilgrims on the trail. The reason became clear. July is a brutally hot month in Spain. The afternoon temperatures reached 90+f on most days, and over 100+f on about one-quarter of those days.

Río Ebro - outside of Tortosa with the Sierra de Pandols in the distance

So we made a big change in our hiking practices. The 0% shade in the glaring sun - no cloud cover whatsoever - and the unbearable temperatures of the afternoon necessitated modifying our routine to a 4:30 am wake-up and a 5:30 am start in the darkness to reach our lodging, hopefully by noon when the temperatures had only reached the high-80’sf.

In the early morning, we walked along the banks of the Río Ebro while the sun first lightened the horizon … it was breaking dawn, and we were witnesses to the new day. Just an hour later the sun eased its way from behind the hills to pour light down on the Ebro’s bends and twists, with its flowing water opening up the wonder of the river to our eyes. We took foot-breaks along its banks, and in the “campos” and fields, irrigated by its waters.

The Río Ebro, outside of Cabanas de Ebro

As hard as it was to routinely arise at 4:30 am, an hour and a half before sunrise, it afforded us the opportunity to spend the later parts of the afternoon exploring the towns, villages and hamlets where we were spending the night. 

We drank our coffees in street-side cafes and walked many an avenida, calle, callejon and paseo in search of the place to sleep, a place to eat, and often just a place to sit. 

We spent more time among the residents that way. We joined in at community pools while families refreshed themselves in the brutal heat. We walked through the cloisters of cathedrals, stepped up to the altars of Gothic-designed churches, crossed the moats of castles, goofed around in playgrounds and window-shopped street-malls, almost always getting ice cream. We ate our meals in  restaurants, not on our American schedule but on theirs. At 1:30 pm, we would have “gambas al ajillo” - shrimp pan-seared in garlic and olive oil - for example, rather than fast food in kebab shops and burger joints, being the only thing open at 6:00 pm. Over a refreshing white wine under the sun umbrella, we watched the sun lower in the sky. (As sunset was around 10:30 p.m, we never saw it being already in bed.) 

Río Ebro in Logrono - late afternoon

Our most personal joy was how our Spanish has improved. Both Deb and I joined the Spanish-speaking guided tours around the “casco antiguo” - the old quarters. More than once our guide said in English, “But you know we only speak Spanish on this tour.” We acknowledged and simply said that we would like to join their tour. While we did not understand everything, we understood enough. And our guides were always unfailingly courteous to speak a little slower for us, but not so slow as to detract from the native speakers' experience. Deb would grin when I made a joke that got the others and the guide to laugh. On one tour, our guide explained as we walked through the old prison, how prisoners would scratch their names in the walls to not be forgotten. I joked that I hoped I did not have to leave my name after the tour. Everyone laughed. We had communicated with humor, and it was fun. 

When all was said and done, we were baked, shaked, toasted and roasted, but it was to date our best Camino adventure yet. It’s would not be unrealistic to believe that we are already lightly discussing 2026.