Pilgrimage through Pamplona

A night with the windows wide open in our room at the hostel was perhaps not such a great choice. Although it helped with the hiking stench that has started to permeate everything, and, in theory, it should have helped the hand-washed (in the river) socks to dry, it was a bit frosty when the alarm went off.  I, in my winter-weight down sleeping bag, was quite content.  The kids, blue and partially frozen, were slightly cranky about the temperature.  I figured they would be cranky regardless, so I just pointed out how delightful it was to listen to the rooster outside crowing so loudly before sunrise. Then, I packed quickly and headed outside before I had to take much more abuse.

Nolan and I were the first on the road this morning. Foster and Brianna quickly caught up, and we all lamented the various new sore muscles and toes that we had discovered since yesterday.  I figure as long as it's something different that hurts every day, we'll be fine - just minor daily annoyances until we adjust to this routine.  The two slices of cheese we had left over from dinner did not seem like quite enough to fuel the morning's effort, so we paused just 3 km along the trail for breakfast.

Then it was full throttle to Pamplona. En route we actually walked closer together than we have for the past couple of days, and I was amazed at the variety of conversations we had.  We drifted from Mars exploration to the Ukraine. Then we moved on to the immigration crisis involving children from Central America and Bosnian war crimes. After that uplifting intellectual conversation, I was actually thrilled to hear the latest update on PewDiePie's posts and to listen to an 18 song set by "One Direction" - both of which typically drive me crazy.

Today was to be a huge contrast from our day high in the Pyrenees and our day of village hiking yesterday.  We were headed for the big city.  Tranquil countryside turned to suburbia and, then, full-on city. We didn't take the most direct route and seem to be earning a reputation as dangerous pilgrims to follow. Twice we strayed from the path. The first time we realized that we seemed to have been walking for a long time without sighting a scallop shell marker. Upon retracing our steps, some other friendly pilgrims smiled, waved, and pointed us in the right direction. Later, in the city, it would take some friendly locals to direct us away from the dog park and back to the trail. Apparently we just can't get enough of this walking and seek to add extra miles at every opportunity!

Pamplona was bustling with excitement in preparation for the running of the bulls, which will happen in just five days.  We took the luxury of a little extra time in the city - long enough to see the cathedral, check out the Street of the Bulls, and eat at Burger King.  Yes, it seemed very wrong on many levels, but I figured those burgers and 30 minutes of WIFI would buy me a few extra miles at the end of the day.

I was not wrong.  We had made the decision yesterday to press on further than the guidebook recommended.  It was an extra 6 kilometers.  Thunderstorms were threatening all day, and the town we were heading for, Zariquiegui, had one hostel with sixteen beds.  The next sleeping option beyond Zariquiegui would be 13 kilometers further.  Failure to obtain a bed would result in absolute mutiny and a night sleeping in the rain on the side of the road.

As we left Pamplona, we passed through a city park.  Both boys needed to use the bathroom, and I reminded them that we were not really on the "trail" anymore, and, should they decide to pee, they would likely get arrested. Brianna quickly declared that she would gladly pee in the park too if she could get arrested. "In jail we'd at least get to rest on beds and be fed warm meals." Good point.

Tossing caution to the wind, we decided to go for it. I gave Foster 50 euros, helped him practice his Spanish for asking for four beds, and sent him on his way. With the fastest pace, he was our best shot at beating the pilgrims in front of us to those beds. As I write that, it sounds very selfish and unpilgrim-like. Perhaps a bit more time for introspection and attitude correction is needed.

The last 5-6 km of every day seems to take forever. Our feet are tired. We're hungry. The path always seems to go uphill, and, today, the thunder rumbled, and the rain began. I kept my eye on Foster's red rain cover as he gained speed and moved up the path ahead of us. I cheered as he passed the only visible backpacker, and my heart sank as four bikers sped past us.  I just kept praying (See? There's my spiritual side) that he would score us some beds. When Brianna, Nolan and I finally crested the hill and walked into Zariquiegui, we saw the hostel straight ahead. We found Foster inside enjoying the internet connection, successfully having reserved four beds for us. I gave thanks.

The mystical path for the day in my guide book reminds me that there is an invisible eye that sees beyond space and time and is the gateway to the inner realm of spirit. One path is full of distraction and decay, while the other leads to the real world, where only truth is visible.  Well...thanks for the reminder. I am fully aware that I walk a twisted path - distracted, decayed, AND truthful.  Why choose one when you can opt for the best of both? I suppose a little less of my "decayed" attitude would mean a friendlier path for my fellow pilgrims. On future days, I will work to be more generous in spirit so long as the sun is shining and there's still room in the inn!