Camino Francés

We left Larrasaoña at first light, hoping to get to Pamplona before some forecast early afternoon rain.

Soon, the trail paralleled the placid river Arga. It looked ideal for cooling off on a hot day—Google Maps has a note on a section for swimming. No one was in the water at that early hour, though.

Breakfast at La Parada de Zuriain 4 kilometers from our albergue was a nice break in our 15k hike to Pamplona. Slices of spinach and zucchini tortillas, coffees, and orange juices provided good fuel for the morning’s remaining hike.

Leaving Zuriain, we walked alongside a roadway and then soon were climbing a flight of steps up a slope. Not too long after, we spied what we thought was Pamplona in the distance. It turned out to be Villalva, founded in 1184, per a sign in the town.

From there, our walk continued on pavement until we reached Pamplona. As we walked along the Way, we chatted with pilgrims from England, Mexico, and Norway. More than a few locals greeted us with friendly “buen Caminos.”

When we reached the Portal of France at the entrance to Pamplona’s old town, an inquisitive tourist from Holland was very interested in our experience on the Camino. Her enthusiasm made my pack feel just a little bit lighter. The mossy wall I was leaning it against as we chatted, helped too.

Fortunately, tonight’s lodging, Hostal Casa Ibarrola, is just past the French Portal, so I was soon gratefully dropping my pack for the day.

In addition to the usual stowage area for trail shoes and hiking poles, this hostal has a wall for stowing backpacks. Why, I wondered? The answer was posted in our cubes: it’s intended to prevent the dreaded bedbugs from hitchhiking their way into the albergue.

On a more uplifting note, it’s been interesting to see how prevalent composting seems to be in Spain.

When we’ve stopped at food trucks they’ve had a special bin or bag for organic materials, such as banana peels and egg shells. In Pamplona, there are shiny metal bins in trash can rows labeled “organics.” I’ve never seen this in Maryland, Virginia, or Florida.

Walking around the old town’s cobbled streets reveals a lovely assortment of shops, cafes, and churches. After the quiet time of siesta, locals and tourists fill the streets in the late afternoon.

Wandering around taking photos in the soft afternoon light, I bumped into a Canadian pilgrim I’d met at yesterday’s hostal and then into an Australian pilgrim I’d met earlier today at Casa Ibarrola. We decided to stop in at Café Iruña for a drink, which was one of Ernest Hemingway’s haunts in Pamplona. The opulent decor hasn’t changed much since then, and it was a pleasant way to rest our feet and chat about our journeys on the Camino thus far.

Tonight, our intention is to sample some of Pamplona’s famed pintxos, known further south as tapas.

Tomorrow, we head to Obanos, 22 kilometers away. My shoulders have been protesting my backpack after 7-10 kilometers, so in the morning I’ll put my water and rain poncho in a day pack, and avail myself of a transport service for 5 euros to send my pack ahead to tomorrow’s lodging.

More about that next time.Les mer