Ups and Downs

I have two days of catching up to do. I left Roncevaux (Spanish, Roncesvalles) with the expectation of enjoying walking down rather than up. Sure. A topographical map (that I didn´t see until I arrived in Zubiri, 23 kilometers away) indicated that I had indeed walked downward more than 3000 meters; however, I also walked upward 1500 meters. And these paths are just not fair--you have a long, hard upward climb with the expectation of a similar downslope. Instead, you get a percipitous fall, down a water-washed slope on which you can barely keep your feet. Then you go up again.

Nevertheless, the way is fun. I actually fell into a group whose pace matched mine--a couple from French Canada and a 67-year-old woman from West Cork, Ireland. We stopped at a bar in Burguete so I could have a drink (just water) in a bar in which Hemingway stayed while writing part of The Sun Also Rises. He actually signed and dated (25/7/23) the piano in the bar; when I tried to take a picture, the woman behind the bar threatened to set her dog on me. I settled for a snap of the bar outside. Outside of Burguete, we entered one of the only beechwood forests remaining in the world. The beech trees closed hard upon the trail--their bark was white, dappled with spots of brown and green. The latter half of the trip to Zubrini really was treacherous. It drizzled most of the morning, so by afternoon, the downslopes were dangerous. We came upon a trio of cyclists, one of whom had fallen and destroyed his bike (to say nothing of the fact that they were trying to wrap several places on his body). Going into Zubrini, you cross over a medieval bridge called Puente de la Rabia. According to legend, crossing over the bridge prevents rabies--my students are now completely safe from my bite.

On the next day, I walked from Zubiri to Pamplona. I stopped to see a 12th century chruch in Larasoaña--very beautiful. In fact, the walk itself was "fine"--to use Hemingwayesque verbage. The Pyrenees began to tire and fell more into a series of hills. Every now and then a granite outcropping on a peak seemed to represent the mountains still showing their teeth. I stopped for lunch (and apple and an orange) on a high pasture and watched the sheep. Coming into Pamplona, the trail had one more surprize for us--the Montes Nerval y Miravalles--two hills that wore everyone out until we finally staggered into the city´s western suburb. Tomorrow, I´m taking a whole day just to visit historic sites and the museums of Pamplona. ¡Buen Camino!