Getting there

We left Conques behind in its early morning mist and rain, first by bus to Rodez and then by train to Toulouse and on to Bayonne, arriving mid-afternoon. Here we booked into a hotel near the railway station, and then wandered over the bridge that crossed the Adour River to get some necessary supplies.

It was also a chance to explore the old part of the town, its canals, city walls and magnificent world heritage listed cathedral. Here the sun was shining again and we seemed to have absorbed the period of bad weather in our rest and travel days. Tomorrow, we catch the bus to Saint Jean Pied de Port and continue the Chemin de Saint Jacques (or Camino de Santiago) as it traverses the Pyrenees into Spain.

We wanted to enjoy the mountains, so we had booked in to the Auberge at Orisson, 8km and half of the climb away. Time to buy a baguette, some jambon cru, fromage du brebis basque and fresh strawberries for our picnic lunch, and have a slow coffee as the world passed by. It was after 11am by the time we headed off. The peloton was long gone and was already heading to the mountain tops. Apart from the odd lizard basking in the sun and a flock of kites using the thermals to soar skywards, we had the track to ourselves. Sometimes it is good to bring up the rear.

From here, a series of zig-zags up a bracken-covered spur opened up even broader views across the valley. A small sealed road took up the climb, opening out the view into more distant valleys and ridges to the east as we rounded the steep slope.

Finally, we reached the Auberge at Orisson - tucked into the east facing slope of the ridge and looking out across the valleys and mountains beyond. It was home for the night.

Border marker - bienvenido en España

Passing the Pic d'Orisson with its magnificent, but hidden, views of mountain and valley, a cross appeared out of the mist to guide us away from the road and across the pastures. The grassy track traversed a steep slope to round the Pic de Leizar Atheka. Reaching the Col de Bentartea (1340m) and the Fountain of Roland, we walked over a small cattle grid on the track. We were now in Spain - au revoir Le Chemin de St Jacques, bienvenido El Camino de Santiago!

The big question was could we now retrieve the Spanish we had learnt in South America from the dark corners of our brain, to where it had been driven by a resurgent French?

The sun tried to shine on us through the mists, but soon gave up. However, the route now descended gently through an open beech woodland - and it was a pleasure to walk for a while in the thick brown carpet of leaves beneath the mist-soften forms of the trees that lined the sheltered track. However, a change in direction brought us back out on to a featureless saddle and into the wind.

We stopped to join some fellow pilgrims at a small mountain shelter to get out of the wind and have a very early lunch. Rugging up again, we set off to climb along a rough gravel track up to the Col de Lepoeder, at 1450m our high point for the day. The sun was finally making some impact and visibility was improving. By the time we started our descent, we could see out through the clouds to the valley of Roncesvalles below.

Finally we entered into the sunlight of the valley and the site of the Monastery and Collegiate Church at Roncesvalles - an important pilgrim stop since the 11th century. It is also the place of legend, immortalised in "The Song of Roland" about the heroic rearguard defence of Roland in the battle of Roncesvalles against the hordes of Saracen in 778.

Truth be known, Roland was shafted by his emperor, Charlemagne who, while marching his army through their lands, broke his word to the Basques and destroyed the walls of Pamplona. Somewhat peeved, the Basques (not the Saracens) attacked Roland and his rear guard and, with tactics resembling modern guerilla warfare, completely routed them. So the moral of the story really is, don't mess with the Basques.

The 13th century gothic Chapel of St James next to the
12th century romanesque Chapel of the Holy Spirit

The Pyrenees had a very different aspect here - unlike the steep-sided, sharp-ridged mountains in France, they fell gently away like a rumpled green blanket - the walking was easy and pleasant. Espinal, however, was the start of our first climb of the day, a gravel road leading us up to the Alto de Mesquiriz with broad views over valleys to both sides and mountains beyond.

Here we wandered along a pleasant shady track that followed the ridgeline, stopping at a clearing in the forest to eat our lunch beneath the sweetly resinous scent of the pines. The day was warming up and a short siesta followed. Continuing on beneath the pleasantly shady trees, we crossed a sealed road to start a long and gradual descent along a dirt footpath that followed the long spur down to the valley of the Rio Arga.

Griffon vulture soaring high

The countryside above Zubiri

Reaching the river, we crossed the Puente de la Rabia, a medieval stone bridge purported to cure rabies (if you can get your mouth-foaming animals to cross it three times without biting you), to reach the quiet little town of Zubiri.

Crossing a bridge into the hamlet of Zuriain, we were brought back to reality by a short stretch of walking along the edge of a busy highway, before another bridge led us back to the peaceful east bank - time for a bite to eat on the shady bank of the stream.

From here we climbed up onto a steep ledge high above the river to pass through Irotz, and descend yet again to cross the river to Zabaldica.

River flats and hills

Typical rural house and garden near Zabaldica

The sun was now getting quite warm as we climbed up and around the exposed slope of Monte Nerval, hot but subtily scented with honeysuckle, sweetbriar and broom in flower.

The landscape was taking on a distinctly drier look as we passed beneath the highway to climb over Monte Miravalles and descend into Pamplona. It seemed a particularly fitting entry for pilgrims on the splendid medieval bridge across the Rio Ulzama. The monastery here has been taking in pilgrims since the 11th century.

From the bridge we wandered down the impeccably manicured streets of modern Pamplona, strangely quiet during the hours of siesta. A final crossing of Rio Arga on the Puente Magdalena brought us beneath the impressive stone walls of the old city. We entered via the Portal de Francia and found our way to the monastery, where we could get our creancials stamped and call an end to the second stage of our Camino experience.

The Puenta Magdalena - last crossing of the Rio Arga

A quiet plaza by the Cathedral

The next day was a day off to catch up with washing, organise travel and enjoy the sights of Pamplona. We are not afficianados of big cities, but Pamplona gets our thumbs up, with its clean, broad urban landscape and many parks, centered around a vibrant old city.

From listening to the magnicifent organ resonating through the cathedral to dancing with the locals at an impromptu street corner performance, or just watching the Spanish enjoy their evening strolls over a beer, there is certainly a vibrancy to Spanish urban life that is missing from home.