Zubiri to Pamplona: Nuns & Bells

When we arrived in Zubiri, I was marching off towards the municipal hostel thinking my friends were behind me, but to my amazement they were reeled in by one of the Spanish ladies touting for business (who they barely understood). I wasn't really happy with this being naturally distrustful of such people, though we were offered two double rooms at a very good price with bathroom and kitchen. It was more expensive but much more comfortable than the crowded €6 per night hostel.

It also meant cooking for ourselves, though the facilities in the kitchen were very limited. This I did, though inevitably three of us ended up cooking and each spending about as much as we would on a meal out. Still it was a a fun night.

I went to bed at about 10 and slept soundly till 8. I was the only one u, in the morning and found myself grouchy that this pensione meant a late start, and yet more grouchy when I realized that Matthias had been up half the night whittling away at a stick he'd found with my Leatherman knife, turning it into a handsome staff. The knife had sliced easily through an onion ealier that evening, but would surely be blunt be now. I busied myself feeling generally cross, making coffee and getting breakfast.

We must have been the last pilgrims out of Zubiri. The first few kilometers were through an industrial plant and past a cement works. I was now annoyed to be so far behind everyone ease, but there was no point being in a mood, I was glad to have the group so we quickly got into a discussion about the environment, and nuclear power and green energy solutions. (Having cycled to St Jean I can easily take the moral high ground here!)

All of us were conscious of aches and strains now: feet, calves, quads, knees, hamstrings and shoulders. By lunchtime we had only walked half of the distance. Eventually, though we were catching up with people: Karen, a psychotherapist from New York; Janice, an office manager from Connecticut; Anna and Franco from Italy, and Genna from Toronto. From lunchtime Genna was walking with us.

We saw a sign for a XIII c church that was open. It was the little church of St Stephen at Zabaldika, only it wasn't open. A sign advised to ring at the nearby flats. I was already feeling guilty for dragging my fairly secular band to a church, but Matthias urged me to ring. No answer seemed to come, but then Sr Maria Assumpta from Sweden appeared: lively, engaging, intelligent and welcoming. The church was nice but unspectacular. The tiered reredo, typical of the area (one of the most impressive that I have seen was in St Jean de Luz on a Lourdes pilgrimage some years back. But I reverted to student chaplain demanding that my happy band name the saints: Catherine with her wheel, James with his hat and Pilgrim's staff, John the Baptist, John the evangelist, Sebastian with his arrow wounds etc. (At least I refrained from asking them if they could identify Faure's Requiem being piped through the church.) Sr Maria joined in explaining more things, stamping our credentials and inviting us the climb a narrow spiral staircase to ring the bells. It was a lovely visit.

It was late by the time we got to Pamplona, and after trailing through town not finding anything useful I was glad to recognize John from Chicago. "Are you in a hostel? Is it okay? Will there be room for us? Can you take us there?" By this point we had been joined by Karen and Janice. They only had six places and we were seven. Thank God they agreed that one could sleep on the floor, and Matthias, who barely seems to sleep at all, took the bullet for the team.