Camino bore: running with the bulls.

Oh no - is D going to imitate these statues as well?

Scribbling in bus queue at Pamplona bus station. Many new starting pilgrims.

Tuesday 1st June. Travelled most of the night and day on our journey Santiago to Roncesvalles, apart from a couple of hours in Pamplona where with difficulty we managed to find a traditional bar of the kind we liked; the place was dusty and Americanised. It seemed a long time since we'd gone through there on the day we had to do the extra 8 miles to get a bed; that was Sat 1st May.

Bus queue at Pamplona waiting for bus to Roncesvalles, all except us were pilgrims starting out; WE were going there to retrieve our (very new) car, which had been sitting in the monastery car park for 4 weeks. The bus was packed with pilgrims, and it also swallowed a huge number of bikes. We met a man who'd done the camino 19 times (note that! I want to do it once more!) and was into writing about it. We all have to start somewhere, and I'm in the bus queue getting going, writing in the little book again. Whilst we felt pleased to be returning 'successful' pilgrims, our main feeling was of pure envy.

 Viv a Espana!

 Well-appointed albergue for two.

Then to Roncesvalles, and to the campsite just a couple of miles west at Espinal, which we'd passed through on the camino. Our little tent looks very lonely there, and we continued to miss sleeping 40 to a room; there didn't seem to be many people camping at all, only a bunch of UK motorcyclists with NOT A WORD of Spanish between them; at least I had learned how to ask for 7 m of ric-rac! In trepidation and tiredness, we went to the campsite restaurant, and were surprised and delighted to have one of the good Spanish cheap pilgrim meals. Our last meal in Spain, a fitting finale.