There is always something bittersweet about coming to the end of another stage of this extended Camino. At one level, I am wanting get home to husband and hearth, to the love and the comforting routines of every day. But at another, every fibre of me is now in the groove: the road goes ever on, as Tolkien said, and if the Camino bug has bitten, then you want to know what is around the next bend or over the next rise .

I know I am so blessed that I have had no trouble on this trip. My dodgy right foot has, little by little, improved as we have gone along, and after from one small toe end blister, has coped not only with moderate distances, but with ones over 30 kms! My ankles have been fine, and my knees have coped with some fairly punishing descents. Some camineros adopt an elaborate zigzagging down the path when gradients get severe. I just crack on.

The day was comfortable, overcast, with no breeze. Perfect walking weather. I can’t really walk slowly, but with no significant gradients up or down I gobbled up the kms. The distance, depending who you believe was 9.4 or 11.7 kms. Either way, I was pushing through 5 Kms an hour, without trying to walk fast. The walk was pleasant, with nothing spectacular on its way, so then the little things come into their own.

The view of Logroño from the moment of departure was unusual. It is normal not to have much of a clue about where you are heading is, let alone what it looks like, even in a general sense. Yet here was Logroño spread out before us.

I swung into the Market Square, where the cathedral is, at 9.25, or one hour fifty minutes since left . The cafés were just opening. But the streets were already busy. Groups of students, all in white t-shirts, with a neckerchief with the name of their club or society, were getting ready to go into the town centre for the start of San Matéo, a week long fiesta of wine, music, cultural events, and, rumour had it, bull-running.

There were hosts of other people as well, from very young to very old, all piling into the city centre. I am not good with big crowds, and I did not want to be stuck in the city centre when I needed to be at the main bus station half an hour away.

Lots of shops were shut for San Matéo, as was the régional museum, which I had planned to visit, so I decided to go and see if I could get a stamp in the cathedral, have quick look round, give thanks for a safe walk and beat a retreat.

The cathedral was unusual in two respects. At the West end, behind the baroque facade and towers, was a large additional octagonal chapel entirely separate from the main body of the church, with its own altar.

The other very unusual thing was that the Quire was at the West End, behind its own screen, with the organ above it on the N side. This was not a part of the building that looked as if it got a lot of use, to be honest.

There was, very unusually, no sign of a place to get your crédential stamped, and no verger about, either.

I walked down to the bus station, and by 12.30 was on my way to Bilbao. The bus station there is gigantic, and subterranean, and is connected to all the other bits of the metro Bilbao transport network. The tram stop I needed was no more than 50 mtrs from the street-level exit. If only British cities could get this aspect of life together.

I found my hostel and checked in, had a shower and a siesta, went out to do a bit of shopping, had a drink and a meal, and wasn’t in bed late. Bilbao is a lovely place with a great atmosphere. I have visited the Guggenheim before, so I won’t go there again. Instead, I am going to spend the morning exploring the old town across the river.

More Bilbao tomorrow! Buenas noches.