Day 4 - Cizur Menor to Puente la Reina - 20km

I managed to sleep in until about 7 in the morning, a real treat, and was up and off before 8. I found setting off every morning a really uplifting experience, the whole new day and trail before me, feeling fresh and full of energy and looking forward to whatever fate had in store. It was exciting feeling part of an ancient tradition together with so many people. For the first part of the morning the Camino was usually busy with so many pilgrims setting off at about the same time. I used to call it The March of the Pilgrims, and try and hang back so that they surged ahead and past me and I at least had the impression I was walking alone. I might try and keep a few backs with rucksacks in sight if the way led out of town as sometimes the way wasn´t clearly marked and it was reassuring to have someone to follow.

Leaving Cizur Menor I could see the trail winding through fields towards the horizon and the range of hills we would cross that day. All along the skyline were the wind turbines which became a familiar sight. The going was good underfoot but the trail went up and up, turning into a hard slog. I stopped for a break and a picnic breakfast under some trees with a lovely view before me, then carried on climbing.

Near the top I stopped for another breather and chatted to a Canadian, Kari, who was doing the Camino with her niece Sandy. I´d lost touch with the friends I´d made at the beginning because of my short walk the previous day and it was nice to chat to someone. The weather had now settled into a pattern which was to continue for many days. First thing cool if not chilly, and misty. Then the sun would burn off the mist and the day would get hotter and hotter, until by about 11:30 it was scorching. This made walking in the early afternoon nearly impossible, so to get the day´s kms in people were setting off earlier and earlier. Being used to the heat I managed better than most, but even I tried to stop by lunchtime.

It was relief to reach the top of the mountain ridge, by that time the sun was shining strongly and I was very hot from the climb. The ridge is called Alto de Perdón and has stunning views back towards Pamplona. Along the ridge itself are some metal sculptures, silhouettes of pilgrims. I did not stop for too long as it was windy and I was concerned about the descent. Both my guide book and my map book warned that the descent was steep, rough and with loose boulders. I had decided I would probably have to stop at the first village after the descent that had an albergue as my legs would probably be quite wobbly by then. In fact this was not the case at all, the descent was steepish in places but soon over and the trail was good, no boulders.

More than once I was worried by the warnings in my books of various degrees of severity and they never turned out to be so fearful after all. Eventually I realised that medieval pilgrims, wishing to get from A to B, were unlikely to trek up and down the mountains by the hardest route. Being sensible folk they would have chosen the easiest path to reach their goal. I was confusing things somewhat with my trekking trips when you deliberately set out on a challenging walk. After the penny dropped I no longer viewed distant mountains with dismay, I knew I would cross them by the easiest route.

Since my legs were holding out I decided to carry on to Puente la Reina. My book of maps was divided into daily stages, one page at a time, which was very helpful in planning how far to walk. I didn´t intend to stick to it strictly, but it was useful to have an idea of how much ground you could cover. The albergues were marked on the maps so if you didn´t stay in a certain town or village you knew how far it was to the next bed.

The albergue Santiago Apostol in Puente la Reina was through town, over the famous bridge and up a very steep hill. I arrived mid-afternoon and the hospitaleiro greeted me with two large glasses of water one after the other before he even let me speak! The building was new, unfinished in parts and I actually got a one-bed cubicle to myself, which was lovely. It also served a pilgrim meal, ideal as I didn´t want to traipse downhill and back again. The food was excellent and plentiful, and the wine which accompanies every pilgrim meal came in pint pots, full ones!

The town is named after the medieval pilgrim bridge over the Rio Arga, (Queen´s Bridge), built by royal command in the 11th century. It is a lovely bridge and much photographed. I only saw it properly the next morning as I went past it on the next leg of my journey. I found quite often that I didn´t have the energy or the inclination to do much sightseeing. If it wasn´t under my nose I didn´t bother. This is most unlike me as usually I am an avid visitor, especially to all things ancient.