Zubiri to Pamplona

Sunday 1 May 2016 - Day 4

Zubiri to Pamplona

I'm writing tonight from a nice pension in the heart of Pamplona. I'm nursing a couple of bad blisters...and enjoying a room to myself.

I was a slow starter this morning as one of my room mates had lowered the blinds last night and all 6 pilgrims were dead to the world in a dark room at 7.15. I felt rather tired from yesterday, even though I'd slept well. The blistered insides of both heels were painful and I was dreading putting my boots back on. Feeling pretty low, really. Shed a few tears on my bunk, contemplating the day ahead.

Elvira very kindly waited for me to attend to my feet and we took off under threatening skies. Realised that in future, I'd need to attend to my feet in the evening to allow a smoother start to the day. Our way found us on a climb with views of the industrial Magna 'Magnesitas Navarras' complex.

We passed through the tiny village of Ilarratz, which had a drinking fountain and also a large pilgrim shelter. This would have been welcome in yesterday's conditions.

I was really was struggling with my feet and had planned to walk maybe for a couple of hours and then get a taxi to Pamplona. Knowing of the long weekend, Kay had pre-booked a room for us to share with Beate, so I knew I had somewhere to go.

Not far after Ilarratz we came upon a beautiful ancient-looking stone church. There was a fellow working in the garden and we started chatting. He told me the church was St Lucy's and had been the church of Ilarratz and the next village, Esquirroz. Neil, a South African, and his wife were the proud owners and they were trying to restore the buildings.He'd come in to ring the bells and had just closed the church, then asked where we were heading. I told him the tale of my worrisome feet and he offered me a lift into town. I was extremely grateful to accept. I waved good-bye to Elvira and hoped we'd meet up when she arrived in Pamplona.

On our way, Neil drove me to see the small villages I'd be missing, Larrasoana and the beautiful Zabaldika. Here we went in to see the church, the 13thC Iglesia de San Esteban (St Stephen). Nothing prepared me for the magnificent altarpiece inside the chuch.

The sister who took us in allowed me to climb to the belfry where I rang one of the big bells in order to send my prayers over the valley. I had many to send.

The climb and descent were not for the feint-hearted.

There's also a place to stay, run by the Sisters of the Society of the Sacred Heart, called a donativo, where you pay what you wish. This is where Elvira ended up for the night, after she visited, and her feet hurt too much to go on. There are only 18 beds...lucky Elvira.

Neil dropped me in town and then I had the task of finding my accommodation in the midst of the Labour Day parade.Took me an age to find my pension, hidden away on the second floor of a very old building. A small walking tour group stopped for a chat and to take photos of me, their first pilgrim! I was exhausted by the time I was able to settle in. I curled up in a ball and cried.

Pamplona provided my first real experience of siesta. When I arrived, the streets were thronged with people. A bit later on, I realised there was no noise from outside and the streets were empty. After a few hours the noise started gradually building until it was all bustling again...amazing!

The afternoon was spent attending to my blisters... and my emotions. Had a long chat with Kay, she was full of ideas for my feet and future walking plans. I hobbled out to find some dinner, after siesta time, where there was live music in the main square and many people coming out to eat. Visited the Iglesia San Nicolas, a fortified Romanesque church and was lucky enough to hear a few decades of the rosary...in Spanish, of course. It 8°outside...brrrr!