Day 4

We dined with our delightful teasing Swiss friend, enjoying a cultural exchange while missing her friend who was ill.

An early set off, we searched with a young American for the sign of the Camino, a yellow arrow.  The full moon strained to show us the narrow rocky path that wound its way across the mythical Zubiri bridge, past a small but crashing waterfall, and continued its winding ways across healthy paddocks where sheep and horses were familiar with humans walking and  talking in the paddock next door.  Along the way we were joined by many Irish folk and Spaniards all welcoming but with determined looks as many more kilometres lay ahead.

Soon it was another steep climb then down just as steeply to cosy up to the river Arga which engaged with us quite loudly as it washed the many boulders in its path, and followed under bridges and through towns, leaving us only when it couldn’t climb the hills.

Swapped Parkinson stories with an American cyclist and an Irishman who accompanied us for some time, a photo of a Canadian girl sitting by the noisy river and shared walnuts with a Spanish signorina as we sampled a ham & cheese filled tortilla at yet another bridge by the river.

Up and down another hill, and we were on our last leg  to Pamplona … with a member of the Guardia Civil escorting us to our hotel.