After a good nights sleep on Jesus’ couch it was time to continue along The Camino de Santiago.

We managed to get up even earlier than the day before and even though we were the last to leave out of the small group of pilgrims, we were out walking by nine. And that seemed like some small achievement. Unfortunately every other pilgrim was out too and this was the first day that I experienced the ‘camino conga line’ of peak hour Camino de Santiago traffic.

The first part of the days trail was narrow and overtaking wild hiking pole owners was a safety hazard.

Eventually I lost Sharron in the crowd and without even getting to say goodbye I hoped we would be reunited later in the day.

The path lead me through a pine forest that followed a river, where occasionally a clearing would lead down to the perfect rest stop where pilgrims would strip down and take a dip in the natural flow.

I passed through a few small towns, forgetting to stop in every one. I realised that I was starting to enjoy walking so much and the idea of joining the crowded cafes of pilgrims had absolutely no appeal.

As the day went on the trail became more suburban and it was clear I was approaching the big city of Pamplona. Yep, the place where once a year tourists flock to dangerously run with bulls (many of my friends included).

I passed through a smaller town on the way in where I was reminded that it was Sunday morning by the gorgeous Church bells that greeted me, followed by the appearance of a procession of large religious puppets!

I spent some time wandering around the Sunday morning market in the small town and was captivated by the local arts, crafts and creations. The most intriguing character I watched was a small old man working away at making brooms.

Just before heading into the big approaching city I stopped to rehydrate, and saw a friendly face approaching. I was glad that I was reunited with Sharron after losing her in the conga line without a farewell ‘Buen Camino’.

I knew that she intended to stay the night in Pamplona and had even organised to stay in an apartment owned by our wonderful hosts from the night before. (Jesus had couches everywhere). I intended to continue on the trail that afternoon and get ahead of the crowd of pilgrims that would be departing from the city in the morning.

We reached the large wall that surrounded the city. The city walls and the Citadel were built between the 16th and 18th centuries because of the city’s strategic importance being so close to the French border and also to repel any possible invasion. In the 19th century as the city grew some of the walls, at the south side, were demolished to allow expansion of the city.

We entered the city gates and admired the beauty that is Pamplona. For a city that hosts such an internationally renowned festival it had the cozy feel of many of a much smaller town.

Even though I have very mixed feelings about the cruelty of the event, Pamplona is most famous for the Fiesta de San Fermin when they run the bulls through the streets. The Fiesta was made world famous by Ernest Hemingway who first attended the Fiesta in 1923 and made it the backdrop of his novel “The Sun Also Rises”. He returned a further 8 times with his last visit in 1959. The city council paid tribute to Hemingway by unveiling a monument next to the bullring on the Paseo Hemingway, the street that had been named in his honour. (Galicia Guide).

The Fiesta takes place in early so we had missed the crowds ad cruelty for the year. Sharon was keen to try some Pamplona tapas and we relaxed at a tapas bar together followed by some time enjoying the wonderful warm weather in one of the cities parks.

Then it was time to say a final ‘Buen Camino’ to my friend. We had been through our fair share of goodbyes already but somehow we both knew that me getting ahead that afternoon would make this very likely to be the final goodbye.

I put my shoes back on and headed on my way, weaving my way out of the suburban maze.

It was a hot and ugly afternoon and after 4.5km uphill I reached the small town of Cizur Menor. This city played host to the Order of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem (which later became known as the Sovereign Military Order of Malta) since the 12th century. In the 13th century the Order built a monastery and pilgrim hostel. What remains of the monastery has been converted into an Albergue which is still run by the Order of Malta.

The track ahead didn’t show a snippet of shade and I was too hot to continue under the blaring sun so I decided to call the monastery home for the night.

I waited with some fellow sweaty pilgrims for my turn to sign in. A kind old french man handed me a wet wipe to help me refresh and a quick wipe over made me feel quickly revived.

Soon it was my turn. The kind old lady checked my documents, stamped my passport and led me to a room with about 7 sets of bunk beds. I was lucky enough to score a lower bunk.

I said hello to the room of ladies (this was one of the apparently rare gender-segregated albergues) and recognised a face from Day 1 on my Camino de Santiago. Anna, the quick polish lady who had overtaken Sharron and I through the Pyrenees would be one of my roomies for the night. And her kind face made me realise how comforting the people you meet along the Camino de Santiago can be.

We laughed about how we had both been so foolish crossing the Pyrenees so late in the day and although she had made it to the monastery before they closed apparently all 400 or so beds (outside camper vans included) were occupied and she too was forced to continue walking that evening. So our late-night witches forest hike would have had to have happened regardless of whether we had made it to Roncesvalles during monastery opening hours.

After sharing our experiences the past few days and I attempted to copy Anna’s impressive muscle stretches I cleaned myself up, washed my clothing and headed out to the small town market for some dinner supplies.

That evening I enjoyed some time alone in the monasteries beautiful garden. I read my book (a gift from my friend Sharron titled ‘The Philosophy of Walking’), and ate my gourmet dinner of rice crackers, sardines and watermelon.

There was a kind young Spanish couple from Pamplona who were doing a short section of the Camino de Santiago near their home city who had stayed in the same house as me the night before. I had been running into them along the trail all day but unfortunately the language barrier made it hard to communicate other than many ‘Buen Camino’s’ and giggles. They had decided to spend the night at the monastery too andI was happy to be interrupted from my reading to share a drink and some broken conversation with them…

The lovely albergue manager, Maribel, was a lovely but tough lady. She was spending the evening helping pilgrims look after their feet and enforcing her strict no smoking policy.

My friends were rebels and we managed to sneak a alight a nightcap-smoke to help us sleep in those crowded dorms….

I can sense some judgement from more righteous pilgrims – but these guys were from Pamplona and it was a ‘local Camino de Santiago cultural experience”after all.

El Albergue de Maribel

Address: Paseo de Lurbeltzeta, s / n.

Location: Cizur Menor – Navarra

Telephone number of contact: (+34) 948 183 885 / (+34) 670 323 271

Email: maribelroncal@jacobeo.net

GPS: 42 ° 47’18.0 “N 1 ° 40’35.8” W / 42.788339, -1.676608

Property of the hostel: Private.

Person in charge of hosting the hostel: Maribel Roncal.

In case the hostel is closed: If you leave, let us know that you will not be there. Price: 10 €. Total seats: 51. Admits reservation of place. Only pilgrims with credentials are allowed.

Hours: from 2:00 pm to 8:00 pm for admission and total closing at 10:00 p.m. Opening: All year except November.

Possibility of leaving or not when closed: No.

For inquiries or reservations, contact the hostel directly.