All that glitters is not gold and my night had not been as comfortable in my single bed as I had hoped as there was a hard ridge of some sort running down the middle. Anne is obviously not a princess as her ridge didn't keep her awake! Sue and Jackie had been disturbed by the annoying fat bloke on the bunk next to them who waved his torch around in the middle of the night, Jenny had been kept awake by texts coming in on her phone but Fiona looked 1000 times better than she had the morning before. We had breakfast in the Albergue which was back to bread and jam, coffee and juice for 3 euros. It was such a nice hostel though and I think we were loathe to rush off. There was quite a lot of compeding going on before we left with Sue definitely emerging as having quite a talent in plastercraft! Jenny and I went into the shop before we left (well when shops are so scarce you can't let any opportunity pass) but he didn't have any tan leather bags with decent length shoulder straps and a zip! But he did sell practically everything else and had a pot of his grandmother's mosquito remedy on the counter for anyone to use and a kettle and little coffee machine behind the counter to make hot drinks - just like ASDA! After all the faffing about we started what was to be our last day of walking. We soon passed through a very pretty little village called Torres del Rio and the road underfoot was quite easy. We walked through endless vineyards - we were in the Rioja region after all - it was a cloudy day and quite cool. We came to the edge of a town called Viana where Cesare Borgia is buried (although we didn't know that at the time!). The outskirts were fairly ordinary so I don't think our expectations were high. As long as there was a decent cafe for a sit down and a coffee. We walked through an old archway and started to see that a lot of people were dressed in red and white. As we got nearer the centre it was clear some sort of Fiesta was happening as everyone was in red and white including all the babies. Suddenly enormous regal puppets on stilts (I am sure there is a proper name for them) were walking through the town accompanied by a brass band. There were smaller puppets with grotesque masks which the children were taunting and where being whipped in return. Imagine that happening here! There would be a plethora of lawsuits! We got chatting to a couple of old men (I use the world chatting loosely! Basically they spoke to us in high speed Spanish, I nodded and said 'si' a few times and then put together the few words we understood to make some sense of what they were saying). There was to be a running of the Bulls through the town later that day at 1 or 2 or whenever! Well it is Spain! We sat at the cafe in the Square and just watched everything going on around us. It was vibrant, noisy, mad, surreal and wonderful! Fiona spotted Pru whom she had got to know along the way. She joined us and told us she had just resigned from the Times as a stylist for their Saturday magazine after 10 years and was walking the Camino and then going to Australia where she was originally from to try and work out what to do next. She was a lovely girl and obviously fun. The church had a mass going on and we went in to hear some beautiful singing - quite a contrast to step into a dignified mass with all that was going on outside. Sue and I needed some cash so went off to the cashpoint. On the way I was attacked by a life sized inflatable bull which was running through the streets being chased by the children. Sue and I laughed so much that this rare photo or video opportunity was sadly missed! We decided, rather reluctantly, not to stay for the running of the Bulls as we had little confidence in when it would actually happen. Pru stayed on and when we saw her later said it wasn't really that great with 4 bulls, a bit worse for wear, running down the street looking a bit confused. It is one of those conflicts you often come across travelling between experiencing and enjoying the richness of a culture and human or animal rights! The walk between Viani and Logrono wasn't very inspiring and not far from the outskirts of the city it started to rain. We were walking by a motorway and it was increasingly Tarmac underfoot. Logrono from afar didn't look that great but once we arrived near the centre the old bridge leading into the old part of town we were more hopeful. We thought as it was a largish town there wouldn't be too much of a problem getting a bed. We passed a couple of Albergues but they had big dorms and ideally we wanted something smaller. We all saw a notice on a lamp post saying 'fed up sleeping in big dorms' or something along those lines advertising a 10 euro hostel with small rooms. We took the leaflet and set about finding it. Minutes later we were approached by a man with an armful of the same leaflets saying that hostel was now full but he could find us very good accommodation for 15 euros and to go with him. Det. Chief Inspector Hudson immediately sensed a scam and when I looked at the faces of my fellow pilgrims the expressions ranged from slight terror to 'I really need the loo!' . But what is an adventure without the prospect of being duped into the white slave trade! So we followed him into a rather seedy looking set of apartments where, sure enough, the price rose within minutes to 18 euros! We were assertive and left with the man in pursuit offering the accommodation for 15 euros again after having phoned his 'boss'. But the whole thing had a bad feel to it so we walked on and bumped into a fellow pilgrim who directed us to his hostel. It was fine, clean, cheap and above all felt safe. So we booked in and found the nearest bar where, apart from mis ordering 6 plates of Russian salad we had the mandatory cervesa and some tapas. It rained pretty much all afternoon which was a shame as we didn't really get to see Logrono at its best and everyone rested and I blogged. We ended up back at the earlier bar for dinner but we were weary, blistered and I think all a bit sad that our walking days had ended. And so to bed.