St Jean Pied du Port to Cizur Menor

HI Everyone
This may be quite short as I only have 20 mins on the computer and it´s taken me 10 mins to work out the keyboard. Thankfully I have a lovely young lass Vanja from Slovenia who is at the next computer and has helped me.
The walk so far has been amazingly scenic. Yes I´m very stiff and sore but after a good night¨s sleep I can hit the road again. So far no blisters for those of you who are counting. I do look pretty funny when I get up to walk if I´ve been sitting too long. But generally the training has paid off - thanks Tim at Inform health - that glute work I kept complaining about has worked.
To the beginning - my plane and train connections all went well and 40 hours after leaving home I was in the beautiful old Basque town of St Jean Pied de Port on the French side of the Pyrenees. I had booked into a hostel Esprit du Chemin which translates as Spirit of the Way. This was very apparent as the people that run it were very pilgrim oriented and went to a lot of trouble to see us on our way with much joy and care. They provides dinner breakfast and a packed lunch for the next day - all for 23E - about $40. Soft music and candlelight even at breakfast. My room had 3 beds and I slept with 2 very nice Germans.
The next day was short 3hours uphill as I began the climb into the mountains. It was wet and misty and lovely. It had a feel of Swiss Alps meets Lake District, The farmhouses were 2 or 3 stories, all with red trim and shutters. The roadway was lined with wildflowers and I even found some tiny ripe wild strawberries, The mist lifted as I walked and I could see just how steep the valleys were and how high the walk ahead would be.
I spent the night at a hostel called Orisson - great French food. Breakfast was bowls of coffee or hot chocolate and that amazing French baguette and jam to dip into it. Most of the people there were French as it was a long weekend for them and many were out walking. I love eating on mass with the French - they really enjoy their food, mopping up the juices with the bread and chatting away animatedly at the same time. I just let the wonderful accents swirl all around me and enjoyed the musical tones of it.
Sunday was the big day over the Pyranees. I had been worrying about it but it wasn´t as difficult as I thought it would be. Unfotunately it was misty the whole way so I missed out on the spectacular scenery. However it was very special walking in the mist.
Sometimes I would stop to just listen, and there would be absolute silence. Other times I could just hear drips of water falling from leaves or the dull tinkle of the bells on the horses roaming on the high fields. It was too damp and cold to rest so I just kept putting one foot in front of the other until I was over the border into the Navarra region of Spain and at the top of the pass.
It was there I finally stopped and pulled out my very welcome lunch; bread and local sheeps cheese (Ϩd seen the sheep the day before). The walk down was through the oldest and largest remaining beech forest in Europe. Lots of mud, moss, lichen and wildflowers.
It was still early so I pushed on and after a 30km day spent the night in a guesthouse (WITH A BATH!!!!) in Viskarret. The owners provided dinner and breakfast and I dined with 3 very lovely and gentle Germans. My German is improving!
Monday was a 25km day through the lovely Navarra region of farmland and woodland. Wildflowers abound together with mud, mud, mud which makes the going slow and slippery. Bit there were no complaints as it was all so beautiful and such quaint villages all the way. I was walking to a constant sound of horse bells and spring birdsong. The old parish hostel at Arre just out of Pamplona was a welcome sight to my weary bones at the end of the day. The walled garden complete with huge old cherry tree was a treat.
Today (Tuesday) was an easy day. I walked into Pamplona - 5km and spent a quiet 4 or 5hours just wandering the old walled city. Walking down the street where they have the running of the bulls every July during the festival of St Fermin I marvelled at the tiny doorways in which the runners try to shelter as the bulls rage past. Thjey are all mad or fuelled on the local Vino Tinto - which I must say I¨ve taken a liking to as well.
Another hour of waliking and I¨m at my destination of Cizur Minor, preparing for a longer haul tomorrow. I was hoping to add some photos for you, but that is beyond my computer skills at this location(and Vanja has left damit). Sorry about the length of the epistle but I had a lot to tell you and catch up on.
So until the next time I can find a computer I will say Adios!

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