Day 6 - Estella to Los Arcos - 22km

I was up early in the morning after a night disturbed by aching legs which woke me up every time I turned over. When I got up they felt fine though and after a communal breakfast supplied by the albergue I was on my way before 7:30 despite nearly setting off without my glasses. They had slipped under my bunk and I was in the street before realising they were missing. Because I was basically wearing and carrying the same things every day I had developed a routine to make sure I didn´t leave anything behind, and I´m sure this helped me as I never lost anything. Whenever I set off I would run through a mental checklist - camera in bumbag, bag round waist, map in pocket, glasses tucked in neckline, stick in hand and rucksack on back. After patting myself in sequence I was ready to go. Observers of this ritual may have thought I had some sort of problem...

A few kilometers from Estella the path passes the Fuente del Vino (the wine fountain) installed by the local bodega for pilgrims. It is an actual fountain with free red wine flowing, albeit slowly, and traditionally pilgrims stop there for a drink. I didn´t really fancy it at about 8 in the morning, so I took a token sip but kept some in a water bottle for later consumption!

The first part of the path was through lovely oak and pine woods and it was very pleasant walking in the shade, but then there followed a long hot climb to Villamayor de Monjardim. There I made sure to stock up with water as the next stretch was a solitary 12km with very little shade and no water fountains. I kept meeting up with Kari and Sandi, and also the young group with April. Since there was so little shade along the way from the now very hot sun, we tended to share what there was, squatting on any convenient log or stone. I had a picnic lunch with Kari and Sandi where I arrived just missing the excitement of their being overrun with goats and sheep.

On the way I passed a very interesting old building which apparently had been a shelter for pilgrims in medieval times. It was built of stone, and when you entered there were steps inside which you could go down to a pool of water. I could well imagine the pilgrims in those times sitting there resting with their tired feet in the water. It was lovely and cool in there out of the sun and would also have been an excellent shelter from rain or snow.

The path was fairly level after this, and good underfoot, but seemed to stretch forever in the heat. It ran mostly between vineyards or fields full of crops, with wildflowers along the verges. I was getting pretty tired by now, and my back starting aching for the first time. It was a strange ache, quite sharp and just under my right shoulder blade. I tried adjusting my rucksack every way I could think of, but the pain only eased when I took it off, so I was having to stop more frequently. Unfortunately this problem continued in varying degrees right up to the end of my Camino, so The Beast really lived up to its name. At least I never had any trouble with blisters and although my legs got tired they didn´t hurt during the day.

I was pretty worn out by the time I reached the albergue mid-afternoon, where I was lucky enough to get a bottom bunk again. When I wrote up my notes I found I´d broken the 100km milestone, which cheered me no end, I began to believe I was going to make it after all. I decided to eat in that evening, and had a nice potato tortilla with some beer. You can buy ready-made tortillas in the supermarkets, and they are quite tasty as well as filling.

One advantage of the hot weather was that my washing dried very quickly. Every day I´d wash my top, underwear and socks and by evening they were all dry so that I had fresh clothes to put on after my shower next day. Most pilgrims do their washing every day as soon as they arrive, so you have to be fairly quick off the mark to make sure you get some space on the washing line. My safety pins worked really well as pegs, but six weren´t quite enough, eight would have been better.

I had a pretty good night, except once about 4am when a snorer woke me, but I didn´t mind because when I looked out of the window there was the most incredible night sky full of stars and I lay watching them for a while before dropping off again. When I woke at 7 I was surprised to find the dorm still full of people, all sound asleep. Breakfast was again a communal one provided by the albergue, and during the meal there was some classical church music playing which was a nice touch. I believe the albergue is run by an Austrian church.

Day 5 - Photos

Heading for the next village in the distance

Typical dormitory

My shadow!

Day 5 - Puente la Reina to Estella - 21km

Since the albergue I was staying in actually had a bar, I was able to have a coffee before leaving in the morning, which made a nice change. Usually I had to walk between 5 and 10 km before finding somewhere open. I didn´t want the extra weight of carrying coffee makings with me, so usually after walking for about an hour I would have a breakfast stop of chocolate biscuits and water.

The route led through gently rolling countryside, vineyards and farmyards, good underfoot but with some fairly steep ups and downs, and passed through several villages. The fields and hedgerows were full of spring flowers and I was accompanied almost continuously by birdsong. Each village seemed to be built on a hill, so that you could see it in the distance as you approached, and part of the way was on a 2000-year-old Roman road. I took fairly frequent breaks because the sun became very hot early on.

Walking from east to west every day meant that the morning sun was always behind you, so the backs of necks, arms and legs were the bits that caught it most. In the evening you could always spot a pilgrim by their brown legs and white feet where their socks had been. Your shadow was always cast ahead of you when you set off and I think everyone takes a photo of this, I know I did. It was actually useful at times when in doubt which route to take to know the sun had to be behind you. It helped me on more than one occasion.

During the walk I met up several times with Kari and Sandy, and also a group I had first met at Cizur Menor. This group showed how truly international the Camino is. They were all in their twenties, April from England, Anna from Ireland, Estella from America, Santiago (think that was a nickname!) from Columbia and later also Alex from Germany. They were a very lively and friendly bunch and I saw quite a lot of them as we sometimes stayed in the same albergues. They always prepared their own evening meal and would gather up and feed any stray pilgrims they found.

I stopped for a bocadillo for lunch on the way, an awful one that consisted of slices of smoked sausage slapped in a french stick with no butter or anything. It was very dry and the sausage still had its tough skin on. In fact I went off bocadillos fairly early on as I found most of them dry and tasteless. At a pinch cheese and tomato would do, but some places would make you a "sandwich mixto" a toasted ham and cheese sandwich which was very much nicer. Anyway, stopping to eat meant I didn´t arrive in Estella until after 3 in the afternoon, by which time it was blazing hot.

Despite my late arrival I managed to get a bottom bunk, the last one. I don´t like sleeping on a top bunk as I´m always afraid I´ll fall out and I was lucky enough to nearly always get a bottom bunk, often one of the last ones. The dorm filled up very fast and after the usual chores I went for a walk around, where I bumped into Kari and Sandi who were staying at the same place. We went shopping for supplies as the following day there was a long stretch without any villages. Later I went out to dinner with Kari and we had a nice long chat and got to know each other better.

Day 4 - Photos

Heading for the hills

Pilgrim sculpture

Alto de Perdón

Welcome break in the shade after the descent

Puente la Reina

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.

Day 3 - Photos

Statue of bull runners in Pamplona

Shady spot for waiting outside albergue

Turtle pool

Albergue garden

Day 3 - Trinidad to Cizur Menor - 10km

I started off in the morning just before eight after a pretty good night - no snorers (or I didn´t hear them) and I am now getting used to my sleeping bag. A small fly in the ointment is that for safety´s sake I always put my bumbag in the sleeping bag, pushed down to the bottom right near my feet. It has my passport, bank cards and cash in it as well as camera, so it never leaves my waist except in the shower (where it goes in with me in a ziplock bag) or at night. Since my sleeping bag is the mummy variety, narrower at the bottom, there isn´t much room for my feet and the bumbag. Eventually I got used to this but in the beginning it was a nuisance.

Everyone else had left well before me, but I wasn´t in a hurry as I had decided to have a short day. Most people were planning to stay in Pamplona and go sightseeing, but since I had already done that I intended to go straight through the city and stay in a town five kilometers further on. The following day would involve a steep climb up and down and I wanted to get as close to this as possible.

It was a misty morning and very cold, 7C when I set off. The way led through suburbs towards Pamplona and was well marked by yellow arrows except near some roadworks where I temporarily lost my way. I reached the city by 9 and fortunately found a souvenir shop where I was at last able to buy a stick and the traditional pilgrim scallop shell to hang from my rucksack. Since most shops don´t open until 10 and I didn´t know where this one was it was only by a fluke I found it.

I went into a bar for breakfast, but only stopped for a quick coffee. The bar was full of young tourists, very noisy and drunk, and still drinking at that time in the morning. The floor was so sticky I couldn´t put my rucksack down and there was nowhere to sit. A Spanish chap on a stool next to me started a long rambling conversation about the tourists but since he was also drunk I couldn´t understand most of what he said. I hadn´t found anywhere else open and I needed my caffeine fix so I stuck it out while I had a coffee then cleared off.

After buying some supplies for the next day (Sunday) and eating some breakfast on a park bench, I headed out of Pamplona, again on a well-marked trail. After another long walk through suburbs and past university grounds I eventually reached the albergue in Cizur Menor after a bit of a climb. It was closed when I arrived at 12 but there was somewhere nice to sit in the shade as it was pretty hot by now. When I did book in about an hour later I found the albergue had a lovely garden to sit in and even a pool with turtles. Being the first arrival I had first choice in the dorm and actually got a bed instead of the usual bunk.

The hospitaleira was a very nice lady who later on cared for the feet of the pilgrims who came hobbling and limping in suffering from blisters. For most people this was the third or fourth day of walking and quite a few were having a bad time with blisters and sore muscles.

After a snack I did my chores, following the same routine as most pilgrims and this became a daily established habit. First you shower, then wash clothes, prepare your rucksack for the next day, check your e-mails if there is internet available, write up your notes, go shopping and eat. Some of the early starters used to sleep for a couple of hours after arriving, but I only did this rarely as bedtime was usually around 9 and I wouldn´t have been able to get to sleep. I had a pilgrim meal that night, on my own because I had inadvertently picked a restaurent no-one else had. I had a very good night´s sleep in my bed and was not disturbed by any snorers. I think I´m usually so tired I just don´t hear them anymore. I´m not using earplugs, unlike most, because I find them uncomfortable. In fact I eventually threw mine away.