Day 3 - 25 April - Burguete to Urdaniz

As the infamous Black Lace song goes: 

Arga doo doo doo                                             

Drop your rucksack in the stream                     

Arga doo doo doo                                               

But only if you’re Martin Sheen

So, if yesterday was our first day proper on the Camino, then today was our first proper day. And by that I mean the sun was shining, there were plenty of rest stop opportunities and I had my shorts on. Scenery was seen, regular refreshment was taken and my knobbly knees were unleashed. Lovely.

We awoke to an early morning mist which was already losing out to the sunshine. After brekky at the hotel, we hit the road at half past eight and it was all rather lovely, passing through countryside more rolling than mountainous. We walked for a couple of hours with Albert and Joe, two wise-cracking retired fire fighters from New York. Great company and as New York as a Brit would hope New Yorkers would be. After our first re-fuelling stop, the two of us bade adios to Albert and Joe and set off once more. We hope we will see them again.

The next stage of the day involved more up and down than we had been expecting, through forest and woodland paths, although nothing to rival yesterday’s experience. However the combination of rocky and muddy equalled slippy so it warranted due respect. And another beer once completed. 

The third stage of today’s near fourteen miles was a long descent into Zubiri with the rocky, muddy path getting rockier and muddier and consequently slippier. A stone bridge over the River Arga marks the entrance to Zubiri, recognisable to those who have seen the film The Way as the bridge over which the actor Martin Sheen accidentally drops his rucksack into the fast flowing waters below. It could have been my Stars in Their Eyes moment. “Tonight Matthew, I’m going to be……(walks into the dry ice mist, then seconds later re-emerges as)…Martin Sheen”. But honestly, you’d have to be an idiot to accidentally drop your rucksack over the side of this bridge. Now, whilst I accept that I do have form in terms of being an idiot, this level of idiocy was beyond me. Thus, my moment of fame was denied me so we made do with two large beers and a couple of large bocadillos (big baguete sandwiches).

Thereafter we proceded the final couple of miles to Urdaniz where we had booked a private hostal for the night. Delightful. We sat in the late afternoon sunshine in the hostal garden drinking beer and chatting with some of the other guests. There were ten of us in total and Mrs C and I shared a small dorm with Michael from Switzerland, the type of bloke who makes you wish you were more European. Michael is a doctor with his own practice, speaks five languages fluently (including Spanish which he learnt three years ago for “something to do”) and was knowledgable and interesting on just about any topic you could throw at him. A real gentleman. I couldn’t stand him. Only joking.

The ten of us enjoyed our three course pilgrim menu evening meal together, drinking red wine and generally talking rubbish. It was a lovely evening, made all the more interesting as one of our number was the erstwhile DJ Simon Mayo who must now have time on his hands having been relieved of his Radio 2 drive time slot a couple of years back. Presumably, the Radio 2 bigwigs must have got fed up with his cheesy music choices. All together now, agar doo doo doo….