What a fantastic city. We rode about 40 km and began our approach to Burgos proper with a 5km long beautiful bike path following the Arlanzón river. The river bisects the city, with the old areas to the north, and the more recent builds to the south. We entered from the north-eastern suburbs and had a thirty minute ride, sharing the path with many riders and walkers as the architecture became older and older. I think that our day in Burgos will be the last time that our paths intersect with the Camino walkers. We have seen many pairs of abandoned shoes along the way. I imagine that feet are getting very sore by now.
Our day was, once again, brilliantly sunny and dry. We couldn’t ask for better weather.
We finally found our hotel, locked up our trikes, and changed into walking clothes. The huge Burgos Catedral dominates the north side of the river. Before touring, we needed a sandwich and a beer, and the tapas bars in the plaza are numerous. Cheese for me, and tuna and anchovies for Patti. Yum. The cathedral is immense, one of the largest in Europe. We did have a little bit of culture shock: we’ve been hanging out in very small Spanish towns, sparsely populated. Burgos on a Friday afternoon and evening is very very popular, and most of the participants are the citizens of Burgos!
After the cathedral we walked through Plaza Mayor to see the famous statue of Spain’s hero, El Cid. We wanted to visit the Museo de Burgas, but got foiled by the 3pm to 6pm siesta time. Everything closes. So – back to the hotel to check in (our room was now ready) and clean up after the hot cycling.
We ventured out again in a couple of hours and thoroughly enjoyed the Friday evening bustle. Burgos was hosting a flower festival, so the streets were filled with folks looking at the various art installations. We found the narrow, crowded, tapas neighborhood and funky squares (plazas) and sampled a few treats. So good. We were impressed with the number of three-generation family groups wandering the streets. Grandparents, parents and grandkids, all having a great time.
burgos: highly recommended.
Then… back to the hotel for a much needed sleep.
You’re absolutely right about the sore feet! I recall hearing of a few people calling it quits in Burgos due to blisters. You need special permission to stay in an albergue more than one night, so unless you can afford other accommodation you have to keep moving. People with really bad feet have to stop. My feet were sore, SORE, but no blisters. The soreness sort of plateaued in Burgos.
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Hi Bob. On trikes the consideration isn’t the feet – it’s the knees! At about 60kms they start to complain.
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What an epic journey! I love living vicariously and experiencing these places through your eyes. Question: what do you dream about at night? cycling, eating, winding your way through medieval streets?
As you are visiting churches – and just for fun – you could keep a look out for the ancient places of worship for the Black Madonna. There is one in the Church of Les Sainte-Maries-de-la-Mer near Arles – although she is now called Sara-la-Kali and she is also Queen of the Gypsies. There is another, in the chapel of the Black Madonna in Einsiedeln, Switzerland which an order of monks tend to daily. Suspect there may be others in Spain.
As John dipped into Poland I should have mentioned that the Black Madonna is the subject of an annual pilgramage to Jasna Gora Monastery, Czestochowa, Poland. My Polish friend Ewa has done that pilgramage several times.
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Hi Birgit! Great to hear from you! We’ve visited a few churches, but many, especially in the small towns at the time we cycle through are closed. Basically, EVERYTHING in rural Spain is closed most of the day! The small towns appear deserted. We usually arrive at our destinations about 3pm, check in, clean up, maybe find a bottle of wine, and wait until about 7pm when everyone comes out. And, everyone means kids, parents, grandparents, all getting together for food and socialising. Wonderful way of life. And – Black Madonna – no references. I have a feeling that the young and middle-aged in northern Europe have completely given up on religion. I haven’t got a feel for that in Spain yet, but it may be true here too.
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