Departure was 0615, arrival 1230. In the dark once again. Mixed terrain. Mixed elevation. Shin splits is today’s ailment. ‘Piscine municipale’ is the cure. I felt somewhat self-conscious and vulnerable though. There I was, a single, bald-headed man in a wife-beater, farmer tan, walking with a limp into a public pool (for 0-6 year olds) festooned with small children and wary (tattooed) parents. Anyway, I think my natural indifference to rug-rats bled through and all’s well that ends well.
Pamplona to Puente la Reina takes you out through the city (which is the capital of the Navarre autonomous region), through the University of Navarre (nice campus), then past a couple of small towns, Cizur Menor, Zariquiegui, Uterga, Muruzabal, Obans and finally, Puente la Reina. In the middle, you traverse a wind farm at Alto del Perdon – and it gets a bit chilly. 
By the way, these windmills make a LOT of noise (whup, whup, whup) so when the bleeding hearts tell you they are a danger to birds, they are NOT. How can they be? Anyone can hear these things, not to mention see them…unless birds are deaf. Not an argument I’ll enter into right now as I am data-impaired.
The landscape is arable. Field upon field of hay and some vegetables. Unlike 2 days ago, no livestock. No cows with horns and bells, or sheep with bells. Lots of large (modern) farm machinery baling hay into bundles. Impressive. The mountains and their serrated edges continue to cut their way out of the earth. It’s stark and vivid. I was inundated by field after field of sunflowers, standing to attention, with sad faces like tired soldiers. The photos are a bit samy, so please bear with me.
For parts of the day, I tracked a large freeway from a distance to my right. I could see that the traffic volumes were remarkably subdued. Admittedly it is Saturday, but I had noticed this phenomenon over the past couple of days too. In contrast to the UK where the infrastructure is underinvested and inadequate, here in Spain it is outsized versus needs. To drill the point home further, almost without exception, in each of these podunk towns I walk through, there is a large, pristine, new municipal office and a couple of bank branches. Europe’s structural excesses have not been fixed and have merely been swept under the mat for another time. Ulcer waiting to burst? Dunno. But I ask myself, what is worse: this excess or the UK’s under-investment? Five years ago, I’d have said the former. Not so sure now.
Of all the crazy shit I have been a watcher of, this one amazes and makes me wonder what an incredible adventure of the self, this must be for you. I look forward to the adventure of Des’s Mind and Feet. I thought about giving up the drink in reverence of your journey, but have reached the age that really only gives a fuck about my own pleasures. Don’t forget to breathe. Ching Li my Brother
It’s all rather cathartic. We could do the next one together (yup, this wont be the only one), but you’d need to keep your Texan piehole SHUT for extended periods, which I know is almost an impossibility for you.
Who’s Ching Li? New boyfriend? Arf!
DG