12^th Day 2018 Lukenberri to north of Pamplona

            What a difference 10 hours can make.  The clear sky was now filled with dull gray clouds and an annoying drizzle was falling.  I moved everything but the tent under a shelter and then went under the shelter near the restaurant for breakfast of bread and coffee.  The restaurant opened soon after and I ordered a tall coffee (cannot get away from Starbucks) and a tasty chocolate croissant.  The hesitation allowed an update of the journal.

            Trying to outsmart the weatherman I donned all of the wet weather gear and took off.  Five km out of town the combination of a steep and sun shining produced tons of sweat.  I readily stripped off the rain gear and sped away carrying two unlikely hitchhikers.  Two snails were slowly moving along the front bag. 

            The up lasted 6 km before cresting at 792 m.  The down duplicated the up in distance however there were more hairpin turns that literally had me standing on the brakes.  I nearly ate my lunch on one yesterday barely able to control the bike around a sharp turn.  Lance Armstrong would have been challenged with or without his peds.  Near the bottom the road straightened and I let her rip reaching speeds of 30 mph.

            The Spanish can also do straight as the last 11 km into Pamplona was a testament.  The town famous for the “running of the bulls” is a gorgeous relic of the past and should be on everyone’s A list; compact, historic, and an easy walk.  Sadly, the tower that St. Ignatius was defending when he was wounded no longer exists replaced by a five-sided citadel. 

            In 1923 Earnest Hemingway visited the city for the first time and spent most of his time in a café on the edge of the main square.  From his notes he returned in 1926 to write his first novel “The Sun Also Rises.”  Playing then tourist I visited the café for lunch, a coffee and two sandwiches, salmon on toast and a mini beef hamburger. 

I made an easy exit out of town on 121.  The campground was another 8 km.  This campground also had electricity at each site.  And for the second night in a row the sun was shining with only wisps of white clouds sprayed across the cobalt blue sky.

My next door neighbor is a retired date farmer from southern Israel.  Born in Nigeria with a Nigerian mother and Jewish father the family moved to Israel 8 months later.  Fortunately, unlike my neighbors, Harry and Jenny, who lost every one, his family lost no one in the Holocaust.  He and second wife travel the six months when the temperatures are intolerable in his area of Israel.  They have four children and seven grandchildren in the blended family.  Three live in Israel and one in Shanghai, China.

Tomorrow I start up the Pyrenees.  Several climbs reach elevations over 1000 m.  When does a hill become a mountain?  When does a village become a town?

Camping in Europe by caravan or camping car is very different from the US.  Only electricity is supplied here and usually for an extra fee.  Like villagers making their daily trek to the bakery, campers line up to dump their chemicals and take on water.

Happy trails to you until we meet again!

Much joy!

Hardy