High Plains Drifter

I know, that´s the name of a Clint Eastwood movie, but it seems appropriate. I walked from Pamplona to Puerte de Reina today--and from one geographic world to another. I climbed 240 meters to the top of a hill that looked backward to Pamplona and the Pyenees and forward onto Spain´s arid, high plain. The ridge was lined with hundereds of giant wind mills (the small ones aren´t much good). Walking down onto the floor of the plain, I immediately noticed the heat of Spain´s bright Mediterranian sun and the wind whipped swirls of dust around me. I couldn´t help myself, Jeff; I broke into song: ¨A-way out West, they got a name / For wind and rain and fi-re . . . .¨ No kidding. Well, I´m-a singin´cowboy! They grow almonds here--I´d never seen almond trees. They look like stubby, long-leaved, peach trees you´d see in Mineral Wells, but there are little fuzzy, green bunches of almonds at the ends of branches. Dianna, there were fields of giant sun flowers--apparently a variety of nuts are grown here (some just walk through). With the sandy soil, this is also the heart of Spain´s northern wine country, so there were lots of grape vines, but the grapes were still young--like little green peas still forming on the vine.

One really notable stop. I had to take a 2.5 kilometer detour to see the chapel at Eunate. It´s a small, stand-alone chapel that was built perhaps in the 12th century in the ¨Crusader Style¨--that means it had eight sides and was domed rather than vaulted. It´s attributed to the Knights Templar who came about that time to begin guarding the Camino. Small, but really an amazing place with polished alabaster windows rather than stained glass (colored glass wasn´t in style yet). Frightful, carved faces overlooked the alter--would have put the fear of God in anyone (even Mark Coley). Now I´m in another hostel where the showers are good, but the computer screen is fuzzy and barely readable. I hearby renounce all mistakes, spelling or grammar, on this installment. Pressing on tomorrow.

¨. . . and they call the wind, Mariah!¨