We awoke in LaBastida and, after one last wander around to test our legs after our run, we said our goodbyes to the now-empty town. Heading east, the sky was a sheet of gunmetal, solid and brooding. Yet even in the dreary rain the deep autumnal colours of the neat vines shone through and lit up the landscape in bursts of yellow and red.
We had a brief stop in the village of Elciego (Eltziego), where a hotel associated with a large wine producer had commissioned a building from Frank Gehry’s practice. We did a drive-by shooting with our camera, in the spotty rain. We couldn’t get too close, but it all looked fairly typical of Gehry’s easily recognisable style, with the addition of some brightly coloured panels that offered something different, an interesting variation on an otherwise well-used theme.
From here we skipped past Logroño and headed to the small town of Estella, where we heard rumours of a monastery famous for its wine fountain, distributing a welcome drink for passing pilgrims undertaking the Camino de Santiago. We parked up and wandered around the grounds, but torrential rain began so we didn’t wander too much further than the celebrated fountain. The monastery vineyard sets aside 100 litres per day for pilgrims passing through, with polite messages encouraging sparing use so that all can partake who want to. We helped ourselves to a small bottle-full, enough for a glass each, and toasted their generosity later.
We were told that, if discrete, we could stay over for free in the small car-park at the monastery, but we felt a bit conspicuous and a little in the way and so we drove the kilometre back down to the newly-constructed and barriered aire and graciously paid €4 to the town to park overnight there instead. Heavy rain continued to fall most of the evening and through the night, but from here we could pick up free WiFi from a nearby café, so we lazed around inside sipping tea and getting ourselves all up to date. We undertook a quick walk in a brief respite from the downpour where we climbed a small hill behind the aire, looking down on Benny and back across the leafy valley to the monastery. Then it was back inside to spend the night listening to the constant tapping of raindrops finally lulling us into an uneasy sleep.
There was no let-up in the weather come the morning, so we set off through the puddles early, on to Pamplona. This was to be our last city visit in Spain on this trip. Views of white peaks in distance, as we were neared the foothills of the Pyrenees, filled up our windscreen. Through busy traffic we headed to the large central aire, where €10 per 24 hours would supply us with all services inc. electric. The rain had paused, although it was bitingly cold, so we wrapped warmly and set off. The aire was positioned a ten minute stroll along the river from the defensive city walls. A funicular lift carried us up inside the stone walls and deposited us in a quiet side street in the old historic centre.
The only prior knowledge either of us had of the city was related to the Running of the Bulls, but beyond that it was a blank slate. We wandered happily with no plan in mind, ducking down side streets and finding small, empty squares before popping out again into busy thoroughfares alive with people. We passed communal vegetable gardens, impressive bandstands in wide plazas and numerous churches in varied architectural styles. On one tree-lined street there was a temporary exhibition on the making and history of Guernica, Picasso’s seminal painting capturing the horror of the bombings.
Mount Ezkaba, a fort used as a prison during the Spanish Civil War, provided us with a wonderful panoramic view over the outskirts of Pamplona and the mountains beyond. Some dedicated runners were beasting themselves up steep inclines to the viewing platforms, then walking down only to return again, making us feel like couch potatoes. We continued to see the Bull ring, said to be the third largest in the world behind Mexico City and Madrid. A bulky Hemingway statue, mostly torso, stood outside the entrance to the Bull Ring, a memento of his connection to Spain and the manly world of blood sports. We visited a dedicated Wine shop and bought a few bottles of local wine as gifts.
On a busy pedestrian street we found a large, complex statue capturing a deadly looking scene from The Running of the Bulls, a key event in the week-long San Fermin festival. The statue vividly captured the motion, excitement, confusion and fear the event must hold for those involved. We circled it twice, taking in all the details and expressions. From here we returned to Gazteluko Plaza and sat a while, eating snacks and people-watching. We then returned to the back streets where we wandered by a shop and bought postcards for home, just like proper tourists, before returning to Benny to chill.
Later in the evening we ventured out again, forgoing the funicular lift for a steep walk up into the Jardines de la Taconera, where we admired the walls and wildlife. Originally a 17th century bastion to defend the citadel, the fortress walls were now decoratively laid out with landscaped ponds that were home to many ducks and geese. We passed through the Portal de San Nicolas and enjoyed a leisurely stroll that led us back into the old quarter. The wet night streets glimmering with orange light, the air somehow warmer in the soft evening glow. We revisited many of the buildings and places we’d passed through earlier in the day, seeing them in a very different, more vibrant mode.
We had a beautiful dusk walk, hand-in-hand through the well-used and interesting streets. When we returned to Benny a second time, the ever-present possibility of rain finally occurred and we were glad to be safely inside. The aire was surprisingly quiet considering its location on a traffic junction and we settled in to eat a late dinner and to give structure and form to our memories of this short stop in intriguing Pamplona.