I could scarcely believe my good fortune when a second day dawned clear over the Pyrenees. These were perfect conditions for climbing, with enough cloud to prevent the day becoming too hot, but still allowing gorgeous views.
Near the statue of the Virgin of Orisson there were huge vultures sitting lower on the same outcrop of rock. I regarded them for a while, but was too slow to get my camera out! When they rose and took flight, I was just astounded by their size and wing span.
There were more farm animals to encounter on the slopes, 
including these sheep, and also some horses. 
The climb kept on going upwards, though the gradient became less steep as we got higher. 
Finally it came time to leave Napoleon's road behind, and head onto the mountain slopes.
Lyne and Denis had carried some special crosses from home to place on this cross, and they waited for me here.
Also here was Shinechi, a Japanese man we were to meet regularly along the way to Santiago. 
I was glad to be finally climbing 'off road', though I knew we were so fortunate with the weather. At these heights I have seen many photos where people were surrounded by mist. And others have encountered alpine conditions here, that for a few, sadly, have claimed their lives. 
Eventually, I realised that I was crossing into Spain. No great fanfare, just a stone route marker...
There were some muddy sections up higher, formed by leaves that lay here thickly on the ground. And the mud was quite the blackest I met anywhere, which I guessed explained why the slugs were so black! Washing my socks this evening was also to be a very 'black' experience!!!
I loved this section of the climb- quite alpine, and this area would be covered in snow all winter I would imagine. I was glad to know that Lyne and Denis were never far away, keeping an eye on my progress over the mountain so I wasn't tackling it alone. 
Denis' sports watch - a gift for the trip from his children- allowed us to know when we had reached about 1400m, near the maximum height for this climb, and here there was a lunch stop to celebrate. It was starting to get cloudier and cooler by now on the top of the mountain pass though, and I wasn't sure whether we would still be dry when we reached Roncesvalles.
If you look very hard, you can see a slight whitey area down in the valley below: those are the roofs and buildings of Roncesvalles. (And slightly further along, the buildings of Burguete.)
When I reached the place for the descent to begin, I took the road option, recommended on the info given by the pilgrim's office in SJPP. I was to hear later how steep and tricky the forest option was, and was glad I had taken the road route. 
We arrived before 13.30, and had time to register for a bed for the night at the pilgrim's office before it closed for lunch and siesta until 4pm. We were on "Spanish" time now, with later lunches than what we had become used to in France...
At the albergue (run by the Collegiate church), Dutch hospitaleros made everyone welcome on arrival, with a calm, friendly manner.
We reserved for dinner, then relaxed until a guided tour of the village and museum. Later there was a special pilgrim Mass and blessing. 
I found it slightly overawing to be in a huge dormitory, along with so many of so many nationalities. But the building was beautiful. And at 9.45pm the hospitaleros reduced the lighting and started playing some calming music...until lights off.
I rose early, very early, like about 3am early, at the Municipal Albergue. I could stand The Snorer From Hell, a Brazilian woman sleeping in the adjacent bunk, no more! And I was in good company, with several others who had also escaped for the sake of sanity to the toilet block. Most of us were to return to bed, albeit not to sleep, but a young Englishwoman right next to her on the top could stand it no longer, and spent the rest of the night in the toilet block. Somehow, this view of the industrial factory site that dominated the valley floor leaving Zubiri, 
seemed to suit the kind of night it had been!
But before long I had the good fortune to meet up with a friendly group of young South American walkers, sheltering in a church porch like I was... and all was good again!
It turned into a wet, wet morning again, and the track was very muddy and required care to negotiate. I was glad to have the use of my walking pole: I left it 'collapsed' on the outside of my pack most days in Spain, but the days I used it, I am certain it helped me avoid injury in slippery and/or steep conditions.
The river was full...for obvious reasons!
Eventually I reached the outskirts of Pamplona, or more correctly the suburbs of Villava first, but it all just seemed like one long urban stretch. I was muddy after the morning's exploits, and I arrived this Sunday afternoon, just as people were all heading to the 1pm Mass dressed in their Sunday best. I felt as if I was looked at here as if I was some kind of alien in my muddy shoes.... though surely they must be used to pilgrims passing through!
The approach to the old part of the city of Pamplona though was very special, and took away all resentment I had about feeling like an alien! There was a medieval bridge to cross, a moat to walk through
and a historic gate with which to enter the city, as pilgrims of bygone centuries had done. 
Then I passed into the narrow streets of Pamplona, increasingly busy with people spilling out of bars as I reached its centre on a Sunday afternoon.
I was pleased to find the signs up to the Jesus and Mary albergue near to the Cathedral. 
Being Sunday though, the Cathedral was only open for services. The story of my life in Spain: I kept missing important monuments by arriving in places on Sundays when they were closed! However, I realised there was a rosary on at 7.30pm, so I grabbed the chance to get inside the Cathedral then. And got to hear some exquisite singing, and see quite an amazing procession around the aisles afterwards. 
The Jesus and Mary albergue, like quite a few buildings I was to stay in in Spain, was in an historic building. But it had been completely modernised inside. The welcome was very much a fill-in-the-form-you-are-a-number kind of welcome. But the beds were comfy, and there were partitions to break down the dormitory feel. I thought this was fortunate really, when I recognised that The Snorer From Hell was here before me, which surprised me somewhat, as I knew she was just arising as I left the albergue in Zubiri. But I heard later from a reliable source that she had left Zubiri by bus. Each to their own! She was at one end of the albergue and I was at the other on the other side... so there were sufficient degrees of separation for me not to have to worry!
There was an amazing piece of 'synchronicity' at this albergue this afternoon. Lyne and Denis had left Roncesvalles well before me, and I had not seen them in Zubiri. Once I had found my bed in the albergue, and showered to get rid of the mud I was encased in, I went wandering to explore the albergue. I found the internet area..... and found L&D seated at a computer..... and they had just sent me an e-mail asking me where I was...telling me they needed me!!!! There was much laughter as I walked in to the room in reply to the e-mail they had just sent.....
We were tipped out of the Municipal Albergue here in Estella earlier than anywhere else along the trail: at 7.15am we had to be gone! I think it was a ploy agreed to with the management of the nearby Bodegas Irache free pilgrim wine fountain to keep the numbers down! It didn't open until 8am, and you needed to be dedicated to the cause to wait there that long....
The scenery this day was superb, with vineyards, wheatfields, poppies, distant mountains....
At the church in Villamayor de Monjardin, which was open all day, unlike Spanish churches in general, they even offered confessions in English. 
The path continued on with beautiful views, 
stunningly beautiful views of the sort that usually I am jubilant to be walking in. 
But for some strange reason I became disheartened with walking on this beautiful day. My ankles were causing me pain, and it seemed like everyone was passing me, and I had been walking alone for too long. The countryside felt very remote here, ordinarily something I love, but on this particular day I had a 'crisis of confidence', and I seemed to be walking on forever, towards a village that was not visible. It seemed like I would need to shorten my walk soon by taking the train to Leon....
Arrival in Los Arcos did not initially lead to an improvement in my spirits, despite the presence of a welcoming resting place at the entry to the village. But as I arrived at the far end of the village, and came to the albergue, just past the church, life began to improve. The albergue here was staffed by warm and friendly Belgian hospitaleros. They will never know how much their welcome meant to me this day. Also on offer at this albergue was the opportunity to have a professional foot/leg massage in the evening. I was glad to put my name down for this one! And the Aussie Mick, who I had met before, was also here. He had dislocated his shoulder since our last meeting but was as friendly and down to earth as usual. When he asked how I was, I was able to pour out in English how disheartened I was feeling this day... and of course I instantly felt better.
I returned to a restaurant in the area near the church, and ate a healthy and filling lunch. Again, I felt so much better. Next I met up with a group of Irish guys and the Aussie Mick, who were having a peaceful drink at the tables near the church. I had a great talk with them- they were interested to learn more of the Le Puy route - and I was invited to join them for dinner. The massage was wonderful, and a very timely thing for my ankles. The very kind masseur told me straight off that I was dehydrated and needed to drink more. Perhaps this was the reason I had found the going so tough this day. I resolved to follow his advice. 
The church and cloister in Los Arcos were both impressive, and the church was opened at 6pm so those staying in the town did have a chance to see it. 
There was a Mass with a pilgrim blessing, where the priest spoke several languages to the pilgrims present.
But I guess my favourite part of the evening was the meal I shared with the Irish guys and Mick. Thanks guys!
I wasn't entirely looking forward to the walk past industrial sites into Logrono, but in the event it wasn't so bad. There was a lovely path past much of it, with these markers along the way. And there was even a small lake to pass near, where people went bird-watching. 
There was a quite a descent into Logrono, then the Camino route took us into the city via the historic part of it. I had been in such a rural walking environment for many weeks, that I had taken an aversion to large cities. Logrono looked like it might be an interesting place to explore: I will perhaps return in another life as a tourist ;-)
At one point in the city I became a bit confused about where to go next, and a friendly local soon pointed out the way. Before long it seemed I was 'out the other side' and walking in a park area where many locals were also walking. Denis caught up to me here, and walked at my pace all the way to Navarrete. I enjoyed his company and the chance to talk in more depth.
Here is Navarrete appearing ahead on a hillside,
and some ruins we passed showed that it has long been on the pilgrim trail. 
We really enjoyed staying in this albergue for all sorts of reasons. It had smaller rooms, a very communal kitchen/dining area, a friendly hospitalero, and reminded us of the French gites we had stayed in.
The only downside was.... there was a lot of construction going on outside... and it would seem that the only people in Spain who do not get a siesta... are those who wield a drill.... so when I settled for a wee afternoon nap... guess what?!
The evening in Navarrete brought an unexpected treat. There was a choir performance in the church from Coro Sinfonico de La Rioja. They sang at first during the Mass, then also afterwards, and they sounded just heavenly. I wrote on my blog at the time about their performance, (and some of the choir members have since found the post and written some friendly comments that I really appreciated. Ahhh if only I had been brave enough to speak to them at the time!)
Near the statue of the Virgin of Orisson there were huge vultures sitting lower on the same outcrop of rock. I regarded them for a while, but was too slow to get my camera out! When they rose and took flight, I was just astounded by their size and wing span.
There were more farm animals to encounter on the slopes, 
including these sheep, and also some horses. 
The climb kept on going upwards, though the gradient became less steep as we got higher. 
Finally it came time to leave Napoleon's road behind, and head onto the mountain slopes.
Lyne and Denis had carried some special crosses from home to place on this cross, and they waited for me here.
Also here was Shinechi, a Japanese man we were to meet regularly along the way to Santiago. 
I was glad to be finally climbing 'off road', though I knew we were so fortunate with the weather. At these heights I have seen many photos where people were surrounded by mist. And others have encountered alpine conditions here, that for a few, sadly, have claimed their lives. 
Eventually, I realised that I was crossing into Spain. No great fanfare, just a stone route marker...
There were some muddy sections up higher, formed by leaves that lay here thickly on the ground. And the mud was quite the blackest I met anywhere, which I guessed explained why the slugs were so black! Washing my socks this evening was also to be a very 'black' experience!!!
I loved this section of the climb- quite alpine, and this area would be covered in snow all winter I would imagine. I was glad to know that Lyne and Denis were never far away, keeping an eye on my progress over the mountain so I wasn't tackling it alone. 
Denis' sports watch - a gift for the trip from his children- allowed us to know when we had reached about 1400m, near the maximum height for this climb, and here there was a lunch stop to celebrate. It was starting to get cloudier and cooler by now on the top of the mountain pass though, and I wasn't sure whether we would still be dry when we reached Roncesvalles.
If you look very hard, you can see a slight whitey area down in the valley below: those are the roofs and buildings of Roncesvalles. (And slightly further along, the buildings of Burguete.)
When I reached the place for the descent to begin, I took the road option, recommended on the info given by the pilgrim's office in SJPP. I was to hear later how steep and tricky the forest option was, and was glad I had taken the road route. 
We arrived before 13.30, and had time to register for a bed for the night at the pilgrim's office before it closed for lunch and siesta until 4pm. We were on "Spanish" time now, with later lunches than what we had become used to in France...
At the albergue (run by the Collegiate church), Dutch hospitaleros made everyone welcome on arrival, with a calm, friendly manner.
We reserved for dinner, then relaxed until a guided tour of the village and museum. Later there was a special pilgrim Mass and blessing. 
I found it slightly overawing to be in a huge dormitory, along with so many of so many nationalities. But the building was beautiful. And at 9.45pm the hospitaleros reduced the lighting and started playing some calming music...until lights off.
