I entitled this post "The Running of the Bulls" for a number of reasons (as you will see).
It was raining on Monday morning (April 25th)... hard.
The first running of the bulls occurred at about 5:30 am. Since so many were nervous about getting up and starting the Camino, it was bedlam in the dormitory. There were about 125 people lodging there on two floors. By the time 6:30 rolled around, it looked like the running if the bulls at Pamplona. You really had to watch yourself or you'd get hit by a walking staff or just plain run over!
So off they went... I got out around 7:30, and paced myself. Here is what the monastery looked like:
The first thing I thought as I departed was to take things slow and everything would be all right. Good thinking, huh? I had bought better rain gear at St.-Jean-Pied-de-Port just for occasions such as these. Hey, maybe Santa is so successful because he just has better rain gear?!
Pilgrims were no doubt daunted by the sign they saw leaving Roncesvalles (I took the photo the afternoon before):
Thank God those numbers on the sign are in kilometers!
Albergues in Spain generally don't serve breakfast, so I was a bit hungry in leaving. I knew that there was a town (Burguete) only 2.5 km away (1.6 miles). Then I remembered that it was the day after Easter, a national holiday in Spain. I finally found an open coffee shop and had a fairly plain croissant. The problem was that where the coffee shop was was also where the Camino turned right. So I did find a sweet roll but I missed the turn and kept walking down the road about a half-mile. I saw some bikers coming my way and called out to them, «¿Esta es la ruta a Santiago?». They yelled back, «¡Si!». But that was the bike route to Santiago, not the pedestrian route. I finally figured out that I was off course and had missed the blue and yellow shell (the route marker). I retraced my steps and finally saw the turn-off. This was coincidental, as I missed a turn on my first day in France as well.
As it rained almost all day, I eventually got wet and cold. But there were so many pilgrims, and everyone was helping each other out that that I couldn't help but feel warm inside.
A couple of times I witnessed the "Running of the Muttons." Some shepherd halted all traffic and had his flock if lamb run to the next pasture.
In case you haven't seen this, lambs don't run very well.
Walking on the trail in the rain was like walking in sludge. At one point I just stopped and looked at all the footprints and thought, "God, how many hundreds of thousands of pilgrims have walked this way before me? How holy this path is!"
The rain eventually stopped, and the sun kind of came out. But there was still lots of walking in wet forests.
By 1:15 I had arrived at Zubiri, and considered calling it a day, but others coaxed me on. So I walked the extra 5 km (3 mi.) to the next town of Larrasoaña for the night. All told, it was a 15.5 mile hike.
The albergue at Larrasoaña was housed in the same building as city hall. The municipal worker who checked pilgrims in no doubt was trained in the Stalinist School of Bureaucracy. Very officious and lacking any humor.
The albergue was in terrible condition, with beds crammed in every which way. But the worst part was how dirty the place was. I felt dirtier AFTER the shower than before!
Some of the people I had met in Roncesvalles were also at Larrasoaña, so it was a nice reunion and we had a pizza dinner together.
The next day, the goal was to walk to Cizur Minor, some 13.9 miles away, via the city of Pamplona.
It was an uneventful day, but it didn't rain and the sun shone.
Walking through Pamplona was strange, as I hadn't been on a city bigger than 15,000 people since mid-March. It was wild to see so many commercial businesses.
I passed by the actual street where the real running of the bulls takes place. Why anyone does that is beyond me (although it was funny in the movie "Cityslickers").
Pamplona is a true Spanish city, with it's Cathedral and municipal buildings all representative of Spanish architecture. It even has a corrida at Plaza del Toros, so you know it's Spanish.
I was so happy to find the central market in the middle of town. Tasting the fresh fruit there (especially the strawberries) was such a delight.
Cizur Minor was only 2.5 miles past the city limits of Pamplona. I stayed at the albergue there, once again with some friends that I had met on the Camino.
The albergue at Cizur Minor was like a resort compared to the one at Larrasoaña. The sun shone brightly and many chose to sunbathe outside the dorms. Everything was so clean and in order there.
Dinner was in a restaurant which served a "Pilgrim's meal." That means that for a set price of about 10€, you get a basic meal and dessert and wine. It's hearty fare, and after a long day of hiking, pilgrims are glad to have it. Unlike the French hostels that offer the meals in-house, Spanish hostels along the Camino de Santiago separate the lodging place from the eating place.
