My Camino de Santiago (Hemmingway Country)

At 6:00 a.m. sharp we were all awoken by the sound of music playing, not from the film with Julie Andrews (there were no Nuns in this albergue) and the lights coming on. I had a quick wash and packed away my kit then set off to look for breakfast. After about four kilometres of walking alongside a small country lane I found it in the small village of Burguete. Although it was still early on a Sunday morning the only bar was open and doing a brisk trade selling cafe con leche and croissants to the hungry peregrinos. Ernest Hemmingway used to stay in a small hotel in Burguete where apparently there is still a piano bearing his signature and the date 25/07/1923.

It was a beautiful cold and sunny spring day, the hawthorn and cowslips were both in flower and the birds were singing. A great day to be alive! The traditional Basque houses were alpine in style and wouldn't have looked amiss in the mountains of Switzerland or Austria. There was a dog chained up  in every yard who barked as we passed by; and the fields were full of short stocky horses each sporting a cow bell around it's neck. I think that they are bred for food.

I walked in company with peregrinos from all around the world, however the majority appeared to be from the United States. Even though it was only day two everybody was chatting and making new friends. The main question being, why are you walking the camino? Everybody had their own reasons for being there but the main ones were religious, cultural or just looking for an adventure.
Some of my fellow pilgrims were starting to suffer from blisters and knee injuries, the result of carrying rucksacks that were far too large and wearing new or ill fitting footwear.

That night was spent in a small private albergue in the village of Zubiri and the next day I carried on to Pamplona. Our journey started by crossing the Puente de la Rabia, where legend has it that if an animal is walked around the central arch three times it would be cured of rabies. The route then followed alongside the tranquil little rio Arga until we reached the outskirts of Pamplona. Direction finding is very easy along the Camino Frances as the entire route is way marked with painted yellow arrows, so there is no need to carry loads of maps. As I entered Pamplona I noticed that one enterprising bar owner had painted a series of yellow arrows on the pavement leading into his bar.

Pamplona is a magnificent city, capitol of the Basque country with many splendid cafes and bars in the medieval streets. It is  famous for the running of the bulls at the fiesta of San Fermin in July each year. Some legends say that San Fermin himself was martyred by being dragged through the streets by bulls. The albergue here has been recently refurbished and is similar to the one in Roncesvalles with all mod cons. It is situated just around the corner from the Cathedral and Museum which had two very strange statues of giant babies heads in its front yard. That evening I shared a fantastic meal in a local bar for twelve euros each, complete with a free bottle of wine (they forgot to charge us for it).