Day 14 Pamplona

Today I crossed the Pyrenees and said farewell to France but not hello to Spain, as this is the Basque Country. Being in this part of the world and saying I was in Spain would be like standing in Swansea and saying I was in England. The Basques are a proud people with there own culture and distinct language and many of the signs [as in Wales] are written in both languages. Sadly in recent years ETA has not done much to help the Basque cause like the IRA has isolate the people rather than endured them to the rest of Europe.

While I was in Taize there was a young Basque woman in my group and we spent some time speaking about the tensions between the Basque country and Spain. She was very impressed with how the British had managed to be one nation but with its four distinct countries Ireland, Scotland, England and Wales. She felt that something like devaluation as in Wales and Scotland would work very well in the Basque Country and would satisfy most people. I felt quite proud to be British and part of a nation that honours the distinctiveness of its peoples and culture under one Queen.

However Spain has more similarities to the UK than one would first expect it’s really not one nation but several distinct Kingdoms with their own heritage, culture and language in some cases. Ask most Spaniards and they will proudly tell you they are Austrian or Castilian a bit like a proud Yorkshire man in the UK. Over Spain’s history these separate kingdoms have been brought together under one flag the red and yellow strips of the Sangri e Sol [blood and sun] and it was the Spanish civil war and General Franco that finally achieved this.

Crossing the Pyrenees was fantasist I was pleased I put a polo neck on for as I climbed it got colder. The Caterham simply relished every bend and it was almost as if Rocinante was alive with its engine making noises of delight as I went up and down the gears. Hair pin bends are taken as if on rails. My Sat Nav predicted that it would take two hours to traverse the mountains in the end it took me an hour and twenty minuets and I wasn’t pushing it at all as I didn’t know the road. With empty roads and an experience driver a Caterham I’m sure could do this in under an hour no problem!

As I sped by engine roaring I saw many pilgrims both on foot and bike trudging up the very steep roads with and expression of determination etched onto their faces and one or two of desperation. I decided not to stop as this might result in a lynching but I’m sure many thought if they did the pilgrimage again it would be in one of those funny little green and yellow cars. At the summit I did stop by the pilgrim chapel and several pilgrims came to chat and have there picture taken with the car. When I explained that my journey was one of 3000 miles and in aid of Leukaemia Research any bad feelings or misgivings they had about someone driving the Camino disappeared and they wish me well. The cyclists have a distinct advantage on the way down and on two occasions as I gingerly approach a hair pin bend was rather taken aback to be over taken by a cyclist who must have been doing more the 40mph and shot round the corner like the Olympic cyclist in a veladrome.

I arrived in Pamplona at 3:30pm earlier than expected and in true Spanish style everything was closed for the siesta. Being Sunday as well Pamplona resembled a ghost town. When I found my hotel it was closed with a note on the door saying come back at 5pm. I drove into the old part of the town parked the car and headed for a place I have read about many times Café Iruna. This is the café where Hemmingway would sit and watch the world go by and make notes for his books. It also appears in ‘The Sun Also Rises’. Without two much trouble I found the place and apart from the modern canopies at the front which now said Café Hemmingway – Irune the interior is much as he described it in his books, art deco almost Parisian in style.

I sat and enjoyed a cold beer and watch a rather harassed waiter who could have been Manuel from Faulty towers as the square was packed with people relaxing on a Sunday. For all I knew I could be sitting right next to my hotelier who was enjoy a Sunday drink but I would have to wait.

Just after 5pm I headed back to the hotel and was met by very Spanish looking girl dark complexion even darker eyes like black pearls. I then discovered that what I had booked into was an apartment. I found this on the web and it was a good deal but the building I was staying in was 1km from the reception. The girl who I think was keen for a ride in the 7 which by now had attracted much attention with people lining up to have their photo take, jumped in and showed me the way. The parking was good right under the building but I was handed no less than 5 keys for various doors.

The girl explain that these where apartments used by the university for conferences and when there was nothing on they let them out. I had a large bed room, walk in wardrobe, huge bath room with a Jacuzzi bath and a smaller reception room. I felt rather a guilty pilgrim thinking of all those pilgrims in the refuges in bunk beds three high. Then I remembered I was and English Man and a chap and when one travels one does it with a certain amount of comfort but nothing ostentatious.

I had a rendezvous planned this evening with another English man and good all-round chap Bob Slater a regular at the Men’s Breakfast. Bob’s company has offices near Bilbo so he had managed to be over during this time so we arrange to me in Pamplona. It was great to meet up with Bob outside his hotel and stroll into the centre of town having a good conversation. Something I have not engaged in since I was with the 7 Club at le Man. We headed for Café Iruna and had a glass of Vino Tinto [Red Wine] while I brought Bob up to date on my adventure so far. We were served by the same waiter as earlier who by now was a little more composed but just as slow.

After this we head from bar to bar drinking wine and eating tapas as is the custom. The price difference between France and Spain is staggering. At the first bar we ordered two glasses of wine and four lots of tapas this came to E6:50 amazing. At one point we ran into two lads from the US who were walking the Camino. Pamplona is very much a recharging point after the Pyrenees and in preparation for the heat that lies ahead. Both had finished university and were on what seem like an old fashioned European tour the Camino being the first part, Hemmingway would have approved.
As it was Sunday by about 11:30pm the bars and cafes were shutting up shop just as well as I had lost count of the tapas and the glasses of wine and Bob and I headed back to our respective hotels after getting a little lost but thankfully I had my sat nav in the bag and this along with some help from the locals got us back.