Where in the world is David today? Estella

Having done a catchup yesterday, and got installed in my Refugio by 1.00pm today, I have decided on an early and maybe briefer post. If I take more pictures later, they will just be pictures in and around Estella and I will upload them when I get a chance.

Pamplona continued to be a zoo. Being a pilgrim can breed a kind of fanaticism, which results in people getting up at ridiculous hours in order to be off at first light. My neighbour, Christoph, was up and out soon after 6.00am. I was one of the last and late ones – not off till 8.00am, and that was after taking my time! The build up of noise was a little like the dawn chorus starting up – at first just a few people trying to be reasonably quiet and manage without putting lights on (Christoph packed using his reading light), and then the masses making as much noise as they felt like. What is strange is that it seems to me the noise came mainly from people on the ground floor, while the people on the first floor, where I was sleeping, generally got up later and more quietly. Could there be a science to that? Maybe. Beds were taken on a first-come, first-served basis, so the early birds of this morning were probably the first ones into the hostel yesterday, hence they were on the ground floor, ready to make a run for the door.

It had rained more overnight, and the city had a partially washed clean look about it. There were disturbing numbers of young people about in the main squares who clearly hadn’t gone home after the previous night’s revelries, and the only people working were the street cleaners – and they had plenty of work to do. In one or two streets, the smells were not good. The map that the tourist office had given me was pretty clear, as was the signage, and I easily found my way out to the suburbs. However, I was then faced with more difficult choices and it wasn’t clear which way to go. What was certain was that I didn’t want to get drawn onto an Autovia sliproad. That ended badly last time it happened in France. As a result, I took something like a 5km detour, which also meant I had further to climb back up, but never mind. Thunder was rumbling in the distance again as I worked out which way to go, so I put on waterproofs and lights, and very quickly I was both glad of them and wishing I didn’t need them. Glad because it began to pour down, and not so because it was hot and clammy and I could easily have overheated. At least having made a decision my navigation went perfectly.

There was a good climb up to do to reach Alto del Perdon (the Autovia goes through a tunnel, of course), all to the accompaniment of the whooshing sounds of the windfarm on the ridge above me. By the time I reached the top, the rain had stopped (temporarily), and the sun was breaking through occasionally (the best it has managed all day). A lovely run down and through a couple of villages took me to the church of Sta Maria at Eunate, a few miles from Puente la Reina. That was fascinating, as Christoph had told me it would be. I was there by 10.00am, so I actually had half an hour to wait till it opened, and that was nice. I didn’t feel any pressure, I didn’t want to rush on and I did want to see it, so I just enjoyed a drink and a banana and my surroundings. I walked round the outside of the church first, and enjoyed the shapes of the cloisters and so on. When the church was opened up, the interior wasn’t a disappointment. The domed roof had birds flying around, and the ribs reached up to a roof pierced with little windows. It was a very peaceful place, with a good atmosphere. Thank you, Christoph!

From Eunate, I returned to the route and headed into Puente la Reina, where I made for the famous bridge. I seem to have a knack of stumbling on events, and today it was young people kayak racing, starting under the modern bridge, racing through the old one and on to a mark further downstream. I remember well the difficulties of lining up just a couple of rowing boats for a start. Lining up tens of kayaks was clearly much harder. They had to back-paddle repeatedly to get to anything like a straight line in the strong stream, and even then it was ragged. People were standing on both bridges to shout for their offspring and friends, and there was lots of noise and music playing, perhaps as I have come to expect by now in Spain.

The road on from Puente la Reina was pretty up and down with some steep inclines, while the new road sailed serenely on close by. The villages I passed were undistinguished, as the guide book warned, but the views were stupendous – they would have been too hard to capture, so I am sorry, there aren’t any to post here. The air was much clearer after the rain, and the landscape was awesome. Estella itself is a scruffy industrial town, but the welcome at the Parish Refuge was wonderful. I was only the third person to arrive after two Norwegian girls who had set off on foot from Puente la Reina shortly after 5.00am. I would hesitate to call them fanatics, but they are keen to say the least. The refuge isn’t full, and they didn’t hesitate to take a cyclist straight away (some insist on waiting to see if they fill up with walkers first). I have to work out how I am going to feed myself this evening, but I am sure I will find something! Now it is time for a short siesta and then a wander – I’ve been falling asleep over this post even.