Brasher Kanika GTX Walking Boots – Update

Last Autumn I bought myself a pair of Brasher Kanika GTX Walking boots. For me, this was a bit of a departure in that they were a) fabric, b) in the sale and c) bought untried off the Internet.

Brasher Kanika GTX Boots - condition as they are now

Now I’m always open to a bargain. But when it comes to footwear I am usually quite finicky. Normally I have chosen boots only after a rigorous selection process. Sore and/or uncomfortable feet are a nightmare on a walk, especially when trekking or doing an LDP, and if you need to be able to rely on your footwear for several days or weeks in a row you need to have the right choice. So I always want to be as sure as I can be that they will fit and be comfortable when tackling the range of walking we do.

Fabric boots were also something of a departure for me in that I have traditionally favoured the durability and protection that leather boots have offered (against stones, rough terrain, peat bogs, etc). I don’t like wet feet either: after one memorably painful day’s walking a few years back, I now insist on a decent barrier against water ingress as I am in no hurry to repeat the experience. 

Lightweight fabric boots with waterproof Gore-tex lining (1132g/pair size 8.5)

Having said all that, I was also interested in trying to bring my footwear thinking into the 21^st Century, especially with a view to two characteristics: reduced weight and increased comfort levels. Like most people's feet, mine have changed over the years and now tolerate heat, cold, wet, discomfort, etc, differently to how they did ten, twenty, or thirty years ago.

So, when I found the Kanikas at a knock down price, it seemed like the ideal opportunity to try something a bit different and test a few preconceptions as well as a pair of boots.

The original review is

HERE

Early indications were good: sturdy, supportive, light and comfortable – just what I was after. But what would they be like after a bit of punishment?

Well, ten months on and they’re still going strong. In one sense I’m not surprised – after all, Brasher are a reputable manufacturer – but I think I had a lingering concern about just what build or materials quality would be sacrificed in making a “cheaper” boot, even by a trusted supplier? Presumably, as well as being aimed at a lesser suitability, a lower price point indicates a reduced materials spec or an expected lesser performance in some way? Technologies also change, and whilst some changes are good, some are a complete flop and disappear, never to be seen again.

No deterioration of stitching or gluing in toe/rand area 

With preservation of my Burmas in mind, I've actually worn them quite a lot – not least a week on the Camino and ten days in the Balkans during which they were subjected to a variety of testing conditions. And it’s so far, so good: still comfortable and wearing well after an estimate of some 350 to 400 miles. They were plenty comfortable on the harder tracks and roads of the Camino, cool enough in the hot Balkan weather, and tough and protective enough (just) when subjected to more rugged mountain days. They are probably my “go to” footwear of the moment: in other words, a good all-round pair.

I’m not an advocate of the throwaway society – far from it, in fact. But the principle of spending £50 to £70 in the sales on a pair of reasonable boots (boots good enough for general walking and maybe a bit more) and walking them into the ground whilst saving my more expensive boots for the toughest conditions might well be a step forward. Horses for courses, you might say.

Ankle cuff padding and stitching in good order

Burmas are currently £190 RRP (although they can be bought for about £150) and prices are escalating as exchange rates and rising living standards in the countries in which they are made have an increasing impact. I should easily get my hoped-for year’s wear out of the Kanikas, and then some – which is looking to be a real bargain. If I can get a couple of years out of them, I’ll be quids-in. And, by picking the right footwear for the occasion, it shouldn’t lead to more expense over a 3-5 year cycle if I stick to my rough pound-a-week budget per pair.

The upshot of this experiment has been twofold. Firstly, I’ve got a pretty good pair of comfortable boots for a pretty good price  - and I’m always happy to get good gear at competitive prices!

But it has also shifted my perceptions slightly as to how to choose and use footwear. Whereas before I might have had “boots” for proper walking and “trainers” for easy outings or popping to the town/pub, I can now see the benefit of having a range of options. If you did winter climbing or high-altitude mountaineering, you’d have suitable boots for the job. So why not apply the same principles to subdivide other types of walking activity?

Sole units show little wear despite 350+ miles usage

The idea of having a wider range of footwear and matching their use better to the expected conditions makes sense. It sounds obvious, and although many have understood this principle for a while it is probably not practiced as much as you might think.

Like I said, this has been something of a mini epiphany. Isn’t it good when you challenge your perceptions and hit on a winner? 

And Then It Was Summer

Bright sunshine, blue skies, soaring temperatures and the strawberries-and-cream-flavoured media-fest heralding Andy Murray's success at Wimbledon can only mean one thing: all of a sudden, summer has arrived.

Finally, it seems, the calendar and the climate have reached some sort of alignment.

Hare taking shelter from the heat

This weekend, we did a couple of short walks around the local lanes and fields. In part this was for exercise, in part to exercise some of our Path Warden duties. Either way, we were glad of the sun and the presence of the heat at last. OK, so heat an hiking are not always the happiest of bedfellows, but it's not long now until our next walking trip abroad, and the thought of going from the teens of degrees we have experienced so far this year to something approaching 40° Celsius without any real acclimatisation was, frankly, a bit of a concern.

Poppies

Having walked a few times before in high heat, I think we have gained some practical experience in dealing with these potentially debilitating conditions. Through a mixture of preparation and precaution, I feel we are able to handle the temperatures now as well as we ever have done. Even so, it's a big ask to cope with such conditions (and the attendant risk of sunburn, heat exhaustion, dehydration, etc) without building up to it, so this weekend’s mini heat wave has proven judicious.

In the space of a couple of weeks, the local countryside has changed quite noticeably. Despite the belated arrival of this year’s summer, crops are maturing, and the hedgerows are flourishing: not unlike the fields and boundaries we came across while walking the Camino almost two months ago. It just goes to show what an influence climate and latitude can have on the development of quite similar vegetation.

Camino in May



Northamptonshire in July

And yet, despite the long, wet spring we have experienced this year, the ground in places is parched. Is it due to global warming, is it over-use of the land or is it just the result of a few hot days? Who knows?

Cracks in the path



In the end, whatever minor nuances there may be from one year to the next, the world still turns, and the seasons still come and go. The passage of time is incontrovertible. But as well as marking what has been, the advent of a new season heralds the arrival of something exciting to look forward to, with new experiences waiting to be enjoyed, and a chance to embrace the future as well as measuring the past.

Red and yellow and green and blue

Camino de Santiago: A Week On The Way – Day 8

Saturday 18/5/13 – Los Arcos to Logroño

29.18km / 680m Ascent / 783m Descent

And so to our final day for this trip, a lengthy stretch of some 18 miles from Los Arcos to the sizeable city of Logroño on the edge of the Rioja region.

I may have given the impression in previous postings that the route was without charm or attraction. Not so: but what it sometimes lacked in pure scenic beauty it more than made up for in interest and charisma. Over the course of seven days we had crossed the Pyrenees, explored the Basque country, traversed the Navarre region, experienced Pamplona and walked in the world famous wine region of La Rioja. Pretty good value for one week, I’d say.

Setting off in the rain

Yesterday's changeable conditions had solidified overnight into a persistent rain, with the threat of more to come. We exited the main square shrouded in waterproofs, and set off across more open countryside towards Sansol.

Approaching Sansol

In many ways it was an unremarkable morning, as is often the case when it is just you and the rain. We were caught briefly by Heinrich, who bade us “Buen Camino!” before speeding off into the distance, eager to avoid the rain as much as possible. Then, with few other pilgrims in sight either fore or aft, we were left to several kilometres of contemplative walking.

Beyond Sansol, there was a steep descent to the river before a short climb brought us into Torres del Rio. We stopped at a tiny cafe for coffee and cake – and Wi Fi! With a long day ahead, it was good to have the chance to dry out a bit and take a decent break in comfort. But before long we were back out on the trail, and although the rain had stopped the air was damp, and it seemed only a matter of time before we endured another soaking.

However, in some way we have yet to determine, we managed to avoid the worst of the weather, although the distant mountains, shrouded in cloud and capped with newly fallen snow, reminded us that luck was playing it’s part.

New snow on distant mountains

But despite overcast and gloomy skies, we found the eleven-kilometre section between Torres del Rio and Viana to be some of the most enjoyable walking of the whole week: an undulating route (with some quite steep sections) through lovely countryside, culminating in the descent of a gorgeous valley peppered with vineyards and olive groves.

Old house, hedgerows and vines

In contrast, the final few kilometres into Viana were almost all along or beside the road. A few twists and turns soon brought us out on to the main street, and we looked around for a suitable place for a break. We popped into a bar and bought sandwiches and beer. The weather had improved, so we sat outside at a high table watching the world go by.

Part of that world included a guy from Ireland, who was doing the Camino by bicycle. I'm not sure how many days he been on the bike or how many kilometres he cycled per day, but whatever the amount he certainly seemed to be in a hurry. We did see him sometime later, head down against the wind, cycling the long straight road to Logroño.

Viana

We travelled along quieter lanes, and caught up with a couple of ladies we had seen a time or two before who had opted for another mode of transport.

Modes of transport

With a population of some 120,000 (similar to that of Blackburn or Cambridge), Logroño is another quite sizeable city. Of course, this means it has quite sizeable outskirts as well, and for much of the remaining distance we were threading a route between major roads, underpasses and flyovers. It wasn’t especially pretty, but the Camino was clear on the ground and well signed – although perhaps not in the conventional way.

Waymarker

We rounded a hillside, and could at last see the buildings of the old centre clearly: not far to go now, which was a good job considering the imminent weather.

Coming soon

A surprisingly pleasant lane brought us out by the Rio Ebro, from where it was but a short walk across the Puente de Piedra to the edge of the old town and our hotel. Although we were tired after around 18 miles of walking, a strange mix of emotions was competing for our attention: relief at having reached the end of a long day, the satisfaction of having completed the week, and melancholy that tomorrow morning we would be heading for the bus station, not the trail.

Thoughts of a quiet evening were put on hold when an e-mail from Emmet revealed he was also in town. By using some of the various means at his disposal (credit card, local bus service) he was now rested and repaired and back on schedule. We arranged to meet for dinner, hit the wine bars and catch up on each other’s news. It has to be said, Logroño is quite a buzzing city on a Saturday night, and we are looking forward to the day we return, to sample some more of the night life before resuming our Camino.

Camino de Santiago: A Week On The Way – Day 7

Friday 17/5/13 – Estella to Los Arcos

23.71km / 571m Ascent / 612m Descent

Another early morning start on the trail, this time accompanied by a dampening drizzle from the beginning. We rejoined the Camino and immediately fell in with a large group on a guided trip with coach support and a couple we recognised from the bar in Villatuerta.

After a few twists and turns, we’d left the town behind – which was no real loss, if we’re being honest – but were finding it difficult to shake off the group, which for some reason proved rather annoying. We were later informed that there were over fifty in this group, so no wonder we couldn’t seem to get rid of them!

Fortification

Before long, though, we’d reached the Bodega at Irache, home to an unusual feature – a wine fountain! The inscription encourages pilgrims to drink a glass to fortify themselves for the long journey ahead. I could just imagine the carnage this might cause back home, strewn around each morning with a detritus of overly “fortified” winos and binge-drinkers – a very unappealing thought, but probably accurate.

Unnervingly for so early in the morning, the fountain was practically empty, and the tiny drop we managed to squeeze from it was rather unpalatable. But we were later assured by those who passed through early doors that it was in full flow at the time. They’re a thirsty lot, these pilgrims …

By now the drizzle had also fortified itself into a steady rain. We battened down the hatches, and trundled off again. The route threaded its way via woodland paths and field tracks through another string of small villages – Azqueta, Villamayor, Los Arcos – names that sound more like the midfield of a La Liga side than the route of a world-famous long distance path.

Azqueta

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a bunch of stationary pilgrims in possession of a good thirst must be in want of a bar. This proved to be the case in Azqueta, where the little café was doing a roaring trade thanks to a let-up in the rain, and we were horribly forced to consume coffee and chocolate crêpes.

Looking back to Azqueta

Just as we were setting off again, we bumped into Denise and walked together for the next few kilometres, catching up on each other’s news. Beyond the next village, Villamayor de Monjardin, began a stretch that passed virtually no signs of habitation until reaching Los Arcos some twelve kilometres later. Instead, the route wends its way through an undulating countryside of vineyards, crops and wooded hillsides. Occasionally, when we veered close to the main road, our passage was cheered on by the wail of a truck siren, but otherwise this proved to be a peaceful few miles.

Undulating countryside

Eventually, the clock ticked round to midday, and we began to look out for a lunch stop. And who should we run into? Our regular lunchtime companions, of course – the French couple. Communication presented no problems: amused surprise is pretty much the same in any language. We took our break a little further on, and were soon joined by Jo who was running a few minutes behind Denise.



"I want it said of me by those who knew me best,
that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower
where I thought a flower would grow" (Abraham Lincoln)



At a junction of paths, we caught up with Hereford Girl and friends. Atop the concrete waymarker was a pair of boots and a note inviting anyone who was in need to use them in an emergency. Nobody took them up on the offer.

The ripening harvest

Leaving the others behind, we crested a low hill and there was Los Arcos in front of us. We briefly crossed paths with an Irish couple who were carrying on to Torres del Rio, but it was drizzling again, and we had done our stint for the day, so were happy to go in search of our digs instead.

Calle Mayor

We followed the narrow street into town. On either side, the doorways were barricaded against … something. It could have been floods or it could have been bulls – we never did find out. Chances are, though, it wasn’t this fellow.

Alarm clock in Los Arcos

By the time we’d dropped our stuff at the hotel, the sun was out again. So we popped back out to the main square for a drink, where many of today's familiar faces had the same idea (including Heinrich, who we had last seen the day before).

The hotel was simple but nice, as was the dinner. In the main, we seemed to be sharing the hotel with French groups: on nearby tables were the group of six we had met a few times through the week, a foursome we had seen once or twice, and a couple who had walked all the way from Le Puy en Velay in central France, and who were 35 days on the road so far.

The heavy rain seemed to burn itself out over dinner, so we went out for a quick stroll. It seemed as though the whole town was out celebrating something or other. We didn't really find out what, but a group of kids being chased by another lad pushing a stuffed half a bull on wheels might have been a clue. Maybe bull running was coming to town: perhaps it was just Friday night high spirits, Los Arcos style. Who knows?

Camino de Santiago: A Week On The Way – Day 6

Thursday 16/5/13 – Puente la Reina to Estella

25.84km / 690m Ascent / 578m Descent

Stork! That'll be good luck and happiness guaranteed then ...

A cool but much brighter morning greeted us today, fresh and invigorating and with much more promise than yesterday’s gloomy rain.

Peregrino in Puente la Reina

As usual, we were underway by 8.15am. With another 16 miles to go today, it was good to be out on the trail so early, and there were plenty of pilgrims about already, although few we immediately recognised.

The bridge in morning sunlight

We made our way along the long narrow “Calle Mayor” crossed the bridge once again, and picked up a lane that soon gave way to a good, stony track edged with flower-filled hedgerows leading off into the countryside.

A surprisingly steep climb warmed us up as we neared the next village (Mañeru). Apart from the first day over the mountains, the Camino is often considered to be a fairly easy undertaking. In general terms it is, as the paths are clear and the infrastructure good, but that belies the fact that the terrain is undulating and the accumulated figures for distance, ascent and descent (for the week: 174.78km with 5,567m of ascent and 5,392m of descent) reveal a slightly different story: an average 15½ miles and a biggish Lake District summit every day.



Darkening clouds over Cirauqui

Beyond Mañeru, an undulating path led through olive groves and vineyards to the hilltop village of Cirauqui, which was all very lovely except for the thickening cloud looming overhead.

Typical waymarker

The route through the village was clearly signed, but complex in a higgledy-piggledy, up and down sort of way. In our experience, navigation along the Camino is pretty straightforward, and there is a huge variety of ways in which the route is waymarked. Some are official, some less so, but in reality you are never far from a scallop shell or a yellow arrow, and you soon get used to spotting them on walls, road signs, posts, trees, rocks or even set into the ground.

Sentinels on the skyline watching over us

The reward for successful navigation, though, was a self-administered stamp for the Pilgrim Passport, bread and coke bought from the nearby shop, and a short break on a handy bench.

Roman bridge at Cirauqui

Beyond the village, we crossed an old Roman bridge and hooked up with Heinrich, a German chap from Dresden we had first met a couple of days previously at the café in Irotz. A careful blend of German, English and Sign Language worked well enough for the half-hour stroll, during which time we passed through more countryside, beneath a main road, past an aqueduct and over the bridge spanning the River Salado. Here we parted company, and headed off up the hill into the village of Lorca.

Flower-filled hedgerow

The stone steps of the church tower were catching a few rays of sunshine, and made an ideal spot for a rest stop. No sooner had we opened our sandwiches than the French couple we had lunched with yesterday arrived.

One of the fascinations about the trail is that you can be on the same schedule as another walker and either bump into them frequently or not see them at all for several days. As everyone is heading west at roughly the same rate, it is perfectly possible to be five minutes behind or ahead of someone you know and to chat with others who have caught up with them, but to never actually see them for yourself.

Living la vida Lorca

Passing through the village, we swerved the busy Albergue and joined the main road for a short distance before taking to the fields once more. The sun was trying it’s best to hold forth, but away to the north dark skies and heavy rain were bearing inexorably down on us. We pushed on quickly towards the next village – Villatuerta – in the hope we could find a bar before the heavens opened. We did, eventually, but not before catching the first showers and being re-directed from the Albergue.

A couple of coffees and a change of clothes later, we were back outside in full waterproofs – and full sunshine! Quite how we managed to elude the deluge we’ll never know, as it looked as though it might rain for a week. But no: barely half an hour later and we were getting stuck into the remaining few kilometres to Estella.

"Good bread, excellent water and wine, meat and fish, brings much happiness"
I'll drink (and eat) to that!

If we’re being completely honest, the outskirts of Estella are not particularly beautiful. The old centre was quite nice, but the rest left a lot to be desired. Our hotel was about a mile off the Camino, so we picked a route through some of the better streets in an effort to make the most of the situation. Most of the buildings would best be described as “interesting” rather than “attractive”, although these very narrow properties were intriguing enough.

Narrow minded outlook

The hotel itself was a match for the town: fairly basic and non-descript, comfortable enough but nothing special. It was about 4.00pm when we checked in, leaving plenty of time before dinner – which didn’t start until 8.30pm! So we took the opportunity for a rest and a shower, phoning home and messing about on the free Wi Fi beforehand.

The most notable aspect of dinner was our inability to correctly identify red wine: a trick of the light, not the palate, I hasten to add – we just assumed the dark looking liquid with the greenish hue in the unlabelled square bottle served with bread was olive oil. Thankfully, we realised our mistake before making fools of ourselves, and it was left to a group of half a dozen lads on a neighbouring table to reinforce the boorish reputation of Brits abroad. Perhaps it is no surprise that the waitress was a bit grumpy with us.

We had a quick walk out afterwards, but turned in as soon as possible as we both felt quite tired. We’d had another good day on the trail, and we’re finding life on the Camino is suiting us very well. We’ve been enjoying the routine, and even the weather hasn’t been able to dampen our enthusiasm.

Having said that, tomorrow’s forecast is for heavy rain …

Camino de Santiago: A Week On The Way – Day 5

Wednesday 15/5/13 – Pamplona to Puente la Reina

25.42km / 654m Ascent / 748m Descent

By 8.15 we were out on the trail again, heading through the quiet streets against a gentle flow of early morning office workers. Although last night's deluge had abated, the skies looked dark and there was no guarantee we were going to stay dry. But at least the rain held off for a while as we made our way out through the suburbs.

Plaza Consistorial

It didn't hold off for long though. Missy G dived into her rucksack for her waterproof jacket, and I dug into my pack and pulled out …… her other waterproof jacket. Hmmm, not ideal given I am 9 inches taller and 4½ stone heavier than her! However, in true pilgrim fashion we made the best of our lot, and a quick wardrobe rearrangement found me modelling a ladies size 12 Berghaus number in fetching red Goretex fabric, cut to the hip and with a bracelet-length sleeve. A surprisingly good fit, under the circumstances!

We bought bread and passed by the University campus. By a small bridge over the river we bumped into Denise and Jo, a couple of New Zealanders who had travelled to Europe separately but hooked up together after meeting on the trail. We settled into an amiable chatter as we followed the road through Cizur Menor.

Wheat fields and wet weather

A clear path then struck off between fields of wheat and oilseed rape, climbing gently towards the village of Zariguiegui, with the windmill-strung ridge of Monte del Perdon in the middle distance.

Wind turbines on Monte del Perdon

As has been mentioned in previous posts, the path has to cope with thousands of pairs of feet tramping over it every single day. The Camino de Santiago is not a wilderness walk or one that specifically seeks out the most beautiful countryside or the most seductive line; rather, it links villages and towns in a roughly west-tending trajectory so as to offer pilgrims across the centuries the opportunity of food, shelter and a safe haven along the way. With the population equivalent of a small town trundling west along each section each day, a comprehensive infrastructure has developed around the Camino to support, feed and billet walkers as they pass through, including cafes, bars, restaurants, grocers, outfitters, rifugios, albergues, pensions, B&Bs, and hotels – and even the odd mobile shop at road crossings.

Over the years, the paths between these communities have been developed and upgraded so nowadays, for much of the time, the Camino keeps to a mixture of metalled roads, quiet lanes, good tracks and clear paths. Out of necessity the paths have been flagged in some places so as to prevent undue erosion, but in general the quality underfoot is good, clean, clear and able to cope with the volume of footfall encountered day after day.

Muddy path

Not so the path up to the Alto de Perdon, where a thick, sticky, gelatinous mud, slick with recent rain, made forward progress difficult. Added to this, a strong, cold wind was blowing against us which turned the last part of the climb up to the ridge into something of a slog.

Pilgrim sculpture at the Alto de Perdon

But eventually we made it, and were greeted by the sight of a cast-iron sculpture depicting pilgrims heading into the west, accompanied by the inscription “donde se cruza el camino del viento con el de las estrellas”. This roughly translates as “where the path of the wind crosses that of the stars” although, more prosaically, it could be justifiably translated on today’s evidence as “where the path of the wind turbine crosses that of the mire”.

Westward ho!

The descent began almost immediately: a steep, stony track just itching to cause a slip or a trip. The rain had relented, though, so when we came across a handy bench we decided to stop for lunch. Having had virtually no break since setting out thirteen kilometres ago, this came as a welcome respite. Just as we were tucking in, along came the French couple we had met briefly with Jim and Lynn on entering Pamplona yesterday. We exchanged a few pleasantries, but the cold and wind were such that a lengthy stop was discouraged, and when the drizzle began again it was time to move on.

The Alto de Perdon is the crossing point of a long line of hills that separate the Pamplona basin from the valleys beyond. It reckons to mark the spot where the general weather trend changes from the temperate coastal climate of the Basque region to the drier, more Mediterranean-influenced meteorology of the central region.

Mediterranean weather

However, as the rain came once more, driven by the cold wind, we could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. Soon the path levelled out, and we meandered along for a while until we reached the village of Uterga, where a warm, dry bar at the Albergue proved too tempting to pass and we tumbled inside out of the rain.

Good coffee and chocolate tart to die for persuaded us into a longer than anticipated stay, though in truth conditions outside were not overly appealing. Before long, the small café was heaving – a group of 6 French walkers we knew on nodding terms, the French couple from lunch, Hereford Girl and friends, and Jo and Denise (amongst others) were all happily holed up amidst the warm fug and hubbub of international chatter.

Several of the walkers on a flexible schedule booked in for the night, and others made it only as far as the next village. But we still had several kilometres to go, so it was back out into the rain for a couple more hours. Once you are wet, it’s amazing how easy it is to shut yourself inside your hood, settle into a rhythm, and exist in a tiny world of your own for a while as the miles tick by.

It's amazing what you can do with Google translate

Three villages on, and we were safely ensconced in our hotel – the lovely Jakue on the outskirts of Puente la Reina. We did all the usual end-of-day chores – drying kit, phoning home, getting clean – before heading down for dinner. Tonight’s meal was buffet-style, providing the opportunity to try a bit of everything, and the wine, water and coffee were free.

Bridge at Puente la Reina

By the time we’d finished dinner the weather had brightened up quite a lot, so we went for a stroll into the town. Unsurprisingly with a name like Puente la Reina, it has a bridge. Quite a famous one, as it turns out – an 11th Century construction with six arches spanning the River Arga.

The town is also noteworthy in that it is joined here by the Camino Aragones, an alternative pilgrim route from Arles (via Montpellier and Toulouse) that crosses the Pyrenees further east by the Somport pass.

Two paths become one

As the dusk light gradually seeped away, we wandered back to the hotel via the old main street.

Calle Mayor

Despite the mud, the rain and the cold, we had completed another good day on the trail, meeting new and familiar faces and simply enjoying the day-to-day experience of being on the Camino. Often it is not stunning scenery or miles of challenging hiking that makes a walk, but the smaller things that can all too easily be overlooked – moments of contact, help and support, making do, a friendly word or companionable silence, coffee and cake when your spirits are low. The Camino is full of such moments, which is one of the things that make it so special.

Camino de Santiago: A Week On The Way – Day 4

Tuesday 14/5/13 – Zubiri to Pamplona

22.11km / 541m Ascent / 606m Descent

Another promising morning dawned, with blue skies above and what little low cloud there was looking set to burn off pretty quickly.

Once again we were breakfasted and on the trail by 8.15am, looking forward to another reasonably relaxed day and the prospect of a night in one of Spain’s most evocative cities: Pamplona!

However, there was work to be done before we could party.

The way ahead

Today’s route shadowed the River Arga for much of the way, and it was a day for settling into a comfortable routine and beginning to put names to faces. As with most long distance undertakings, life on trail is quite simple, and revolves around the three basic imperatives of “eat; sleep; hike”. A routine soon establishes itself: here, is was usually a case of setting off quite early, getting most of the walking done by lunch time, and arriving at the next overnight around mid-afternoon, with time to rest, relax and enjoy the surroundings before dinner (which was never before 7.00pm earliest, and often as late as 8.30pm before getting started – such is the Spanish way).

Crossing the River Arga

For the first mile or so the views were nothing special. In a scene reminiscent of the Hope Valley in the Peak District, the hulking Magnesite works detracted somewhat from the allure of the surrounding hills. But soon that was behind us, and we were walking along in companionable silence or chatting to fellow pilgrims.

One of the big topics of conversation amongst walkers is “How far are you going?” Quite a large proportion of those we met set out with the intention of through-hiking the whole route over a five or six week stint (lucky devils!). Of course in some cases aspirations were tempered somewhat after the tough first day, but many do indeed do just that. In fact, well over 100,000 people arrive in Santiago to receive their compostelas (official certificates) every year, which means, in the more clement months, about 5,000 people start each week – a number roughly equivalent to the population of Keswick!

Walkers and cyclists on the Camino

However, there’s always room for those who adopt a more unusual approach. Just outside Zubiri, we bumped into the three Israelis again, who had hatched a novel plan: hike to Pamplona, hire a car, drive to near Santiago and walk the final bit!

Rest stop in Irotz

By late morning, we reached the little village of Irotz, where a small bar was doing a big trade in cold drinks and hot pizza. We shared a table with two Germans, a Dutch lady from Amsterdam and Jim and Lynn from Ottawa (she from Canada, he originally from Liverpool). Over a lunch of shared pizza, the conversation flowed in a mixture of languages – one of the great pleasures of a trip like this is meeting people with a huge diversity of nationalities, backgrounds and motivations – and we spent the remainder of the afternoon walking and chatting with Jim and Lynn about everything from healthcare to the Premier League managerial merry-go-round.

Happiness is ......

With a population of around 200,000, modern Pamplona is a reasonably major city – roughly the same size as Newcastle, Northampton or Derby – and is the capital of the Navarre region.

Nearing the Trinidad de Arre

From the outskirts at Villava it is approximately three miles to the city centre. The Camino takes a fairly direct route along tree-lined boulevards, through shop-lined streets and past all the usual houses and businesses one would associate with a suburban area.

Boulevards lined with interconnecting trees

We crossed the river via the Puente de los Peregrinos and stopped briefly in the public gardens beyond to chat to a French couple known to Jim and Lynn. Then it was on, through a gateway in the old city ramparts, and into the narrow streets and wide squares of the historical centre. We checked into our hotel, as did Jim and Lynn (who needed a room for the night) and Emmet (who we had not seen since the morning).

Civic buildings

There is quite a bit to see and do in Pamplona, and many pilgrims choose to take a day off here to look round, rest and recuperate after three days on the trail. Jim, Lynn and Emmet were amongst those opting for a break, but we were off in the morning so we had a stroll out for a couple of hours to get a feel for the city and see a few of the sights.

Hemmingway's statue and the Bullring behind

Of course Pamplona’s big claim to fame is the festival of San Firmin and the “running of the bulls” – an event immortalised in Ernest Hemmingway’s 1926 novel “The Sun Also Rises”. We had a stroll round the outside of the bullring, ambled through the nearby gardens, and sat watching the world go by in the main Plaza del Castillo. We also wandered some of the narrow, labyrinthine streets packed with shops and bars, bought an ice cream, bumped into Jim and Lynn and exchanged farewells and e-mail addresses, and wished them “Buen Camino!” for the days and weeks ahead.

The Plaza del Castillo

It was an evening of farewells, too. We went out for Pintxos and beers with Emmet (you can’t come to Spain and not have tapas, can you?) and had the chance to run the streets of Pamplona for ourselves on the way back – not against the bulls, though, but the heavy rain that had materialised while we ate.