Day 84. Friday 30 May.

A peaceful night in an idyllic setting was the promise. The church bells continued to ring until 2300 – and for some reason rang twice each hour, two minutes apart. Then the rooster started in the early morning! Not hourly, but every 15 minutes or so. Promise not delivered – could have been made by a politician. T’s earplugs didn’t cut it; the rooster continued to crow. 

But the day is brilliant. After breakfast, checked out an information board and started on the 3.5 km round trip walk along the Riu Duran. 

We passed through the village, seemingly mostly deserted – it reminds of Thredbo, and we suspect the chalets are mostly for winter time skiers. The rough track meandered through bush and meadows, with the sound of the river, cow bells and small birds constant.

We were delighted to come across a swarm of white and blue butterflies on a short seepage of water. It reminded us of the Barbara Kingsolver novel Flight Behaviour and also cycling through swarms of Blue Tiger butterflies in Mackay.

At the 1.5 km mark there was a rather doubtful looking bridge to cross, but we did so safely, if pretty cautiously. The stream was too enticing on what was now a very hot day, so T had a quick dip of the feet. (D edit note: and everything else), Water was freezing, of course.

The second leg, about 1.9 kms, was a bit harder, as it climbed up and over several ridges and had a couple of very boggy patches. The perfume of broome was ever-present amid ash trees and small flowers. Eventually arrived back at our start point, crossing a far more substantial bridge over the river.

A quiet afternoon, listening to the thunderstorm brewing. D has pre-washed the Peugeot in anticipation of a good rinsing. T played with some fabric, unsure of its final outcome but it includes a cotton beach towel from way back…perhaps that day in Nerja when we just had to drop into the sea.

Dinner: A ‘clean up’ of salad vegies and anchovies, with some (stodgy) crepes and salmon slices. A little rain cools the air…hopefully the rooster is in hiding.

Day 83. Thursday 29 May.

Just as you’d expect on a Cran trip.

Time to swap one mountain village for another….today’s destination is Olopte, a speck of a spot in the Girona part of Spanish Pyrenees and a very long drive. T wanted to see snow and mountains (not necessarily be cold). Forecast is for thundery showers where we’re going and we don’t really want to be bogged-in in a village of 35 residents, so fingers crossed. Just after Pamplona  a view of snowy peaks were ahead…yes! And dramatic cliffs appeared soon after, with white-water rafters in the river below.

The day heated up and quickly got into mid-thirties as the mountains disappeared! Doris took us south, south, south and it was flat land, golden wheat and 35 degrees of hazy heat as we moved through Aragon and into Catalunya. Surely, she’s got it wrong!

Coffee at Ayerbe and replacing the sweet treat it was potato omelette and a sardine. Next stop was Monts (T was really doubting Doris) for a cool drink (beer sin alcohol because that gets entry to a bathroom). A ‘backseat-sandwich’ of cheese and jam, made in the the town park. Then onward. Roads were very smooth and traffic light (T didn’t grip the seat).

Signage referred constantly to Andorra, (seemed just over the hills) so T tried to keep faith re snow. And just out of Monts the landscape changed to dramatic rock faces (onya Doris!) Temperature rose to 37…snow??? We were in the Pyrenees now but at 37 Celsius? Villages have ski chalets, everything is stone and in the distance, peaks have a slight snow dusting. 

Doris announced that we had ‘Arrived’; Olopte at 32 degrees was unexpected and we were greeted by a very narrow walled laneway…No way! Josep and Maria Angel appeared and guided us to the cottage and then over-filled our melted brains with local information. Our cottage is a converted barn with rooster on one side and four horses (for meat) in the paddock next door. Church bells will stop at 8pm (yes, please). Olopte was once a farming village we presume, but now has only 35 residents, with folk coming up from Barcelona for winter skiing and summer hiking. It is picture postcard stuff. There’s no way we’ll need the fire for our 3-night stay.

A cool glass and tapas (olives, white anchovies, pickles, crackers) on the back porch as the sun dips. 

Dinner. Chicken salad.

Day 82. Wednesday 28 May.

An earlier start to the day, as J packs up, but we don’t get out of the house before 1230! T chats to the electricity meter reader: ‘How many meters do you read here?’ ‘Hmm… about twenty’ was the reply, so we guess the population of 17 is about right.

Back to Pamplona for the last meanderings, photo moments, the usual refreshments, a few souvenirs, a stroll through the beautiful shaded gardens and then (right on D’s schedule) to the train an hour before departure to get THAT ticket.

T and D will have dinner well before 10 tonight in preparation for leaving Azanza tomorrow fairly early (ie. before midday) for a long drive (500kms) to Olopte.

Dinner. Mercadona Chicken and vegies (includes potato).

Day 81. Tuesday 27 May.

We all slept a bit longer after a very late previous evening and J’s coughing needs some more drugs. The plan is to do the washing then head for a bit of an explore of Pamplona. Yes, it was past midday before heading out and we were greeted by ponies (mums and bubs) on the road down the mountain.

By the time we got to Pamplona, shops had closed for lunch; our routines are so set.

Took the elevator from the free car park and couldn’t understand why the paper map didn’t match with D’s digital map. So, a bit more walking than necessary to find a coffee spot. We were up for coffee but a couple of other customers (older ladies, one with breathing tubes) were onto glasses of red. As J pointed out, it is 2pm!

Made our way to the Catedral de Pamplona, strolled, rather than ran, the bull route, ending up at the Plaza del Toros de Pamplona (not going in, as deciding that 6 euros per person was a bit too much) then lunched with beers and tasty bites and a joker (Dad jokes, so that was alright) owner.

Then went to the railway station, but failed to get J’s train ticket, although she’d paid for it: ‘You collect it tomorrow’, the counter staff said. So much for trying to get ahead of the game.

On our way to the car, worked out why paper and Apple didn’t match: the lift we were looking at on paper was the wrong one (there are two). For once, Doris was on the money!

Returning in the evening presented a lovely photo shot of our village of 17 residents.

J triumphed in the kitchen with a fish, potato, leek, carrot, parsley etc soup…we’ve been avoiding the bacalhau for nearly three months…J delivered the ultimate comfort dish, adding the fish pieces for just a few minutes at the end of cooking. It was delicious. We’ll do it again at home. And it’s bound to be the cough-killer.

Day 80. Monday 26 May.

Although probably obvious, some of the photos are now credited to J (at least for a few days).

Got out before midday, and a few kms down the road  D remembered that he’d forgotten his ‘waist bag’, containing passport, international driver’s permit, credit card and cash! Back to Azanza, which meant that our departure was after midday. Good to be consistent.

Our destination was San Sebastián, about 80 km/90 mins. The road was scenic, curved, mostly fast but easy enough. Needless to say, on arriving we were immersed in traffic, so opted for an underground car park near the old part of the city.

Coffee was first priority, and we quickly found a very adequate spot, for both coffee and sweet treats.San Sebastian or Donostia struck as a very classy European city with gorgeous apartments, fine buildings and sumptuous (clothes) shops

At the Tourist Office, we got maps, a small Basque dictionary (good luck with that) and walking route advice, then set off beside the river mouth, by the old town, around the bluff, and there was the sea, surging onto massive grey blocks of granite (?)

The first walking section was longer than expected, and J suggested that it was now time for a beer. We were in the ‘tourist’ lunch scene by then and tavern prices reflected that, usually a 3 course menu of the day, but we eventually found something more suitable: beers, of course, and a shared selection of tapas.

Wavered a bit over the next walk: an esplanade around a beautiful curved beach of  three kms to the funicular. The surf looked fabulous and heaps of swimmers were in and absorbing big doses of UV. Weather was perfect, and the walk pleasant.

A ride on the vintage Funicular (and found a very vintage theme park thing at the top) for astounding views back over the city, and possibly France somewhere over the mountains behind.

Caught the local bus back to the car park, and some quick Lidl shopping before the run home. Quite easy – traffic was light, well behaved and it was still light as we arrived back at about 9 PM, greeted with nonchalance and bell-ringing by the local cows.

As it was late (10pm) and we had had a late lunch, dinner was  a mishmash of leftovers, some new gazpacho for T and J, chicken soup for D, and tapas.

Day 79. Sunday 25 May.

Something of a record: got out quite early, just after midday. Headed for Estella, an historic town about 22 km/45 mins from Azanza, along winding and in parts very narrow roads (has that been written before?)

We can certainly pick our moments: Estella was buzzing as festivities in honor of la Virgen del Puy, running from Friday to Sunday, was still underway, meaning that parking was tight. And for context: Our Lady of Puy, Saint Mary of Puy or simply Virgin of Le Puy is a Gothic carving and an invocation of the Virgin Mary, and the patron saint of Estella.  She was canonically crowned on May 25, 1958. Since the date of her coronation, the patron saint of the town is celebrated annually on May 25, although it is a festival celebrated from earlier dates as well.

It was a big deal: the program, we discovered later, included bull runs, street food, children’s activities, dancing, tradition, gastronomy and music. Followed some P signs to a local school, with parking solo torismos – that’s us, we thought! D was concerned that the gates might be shut early and luckily found a spot right next door. A later search on Google translate advised that in fact it means ‘only bullfighting’. If it meant ‘only bullsh***ing’ we would have been fine.

Fluffed around trying to work out where the old part of town was, and where to find a coffee. A gentleman stopped us and we think offered to help, but we advised, via Google translate, that we were fine (even if that wasn’t quite true).

Took a punt, wandered towards the fair and came across a simple pasteleria where we did get some good coffees and sweet treats from a couple of smiling ladies.

T accosted a young woman outside the shop for advice about the old town, who pointed us in the right direction – we were actually on the right track.

Down the road, over the bridge, and we were there and were on part of the Camino. The Church of San Pedro de la Rua and the Palacio de los Reyes de Navarra were, of course, closed.

Took the lift to the entrance of the church anyway: well, D and J did, but T tramped the stairs to put the other two to shame (point made: she came down in the lift).

Wandered through the streets of the old town, then down to the river. 

By now a beer was calling, so stopped off at Bar Amaya in the Plaza Coronacion for some beers and tapas: white anchovies in oil, garlic and vinegar,  olive, pickle, anchovies and green chilis on a stick, and tempura sardines. Pretty delicious.

This evening has seen accommodation confirmed for the last ‘block’…in the Spanish Pyrenees/Girona. Whew!

And there’s a little tapas of tempura beans, broccoli and leftover potatoes. Worked very well and so eager, forgot the photo. Dinner will be a compilation of pork, chicken and various veg as a salad mix. Tomorrow we’ll start the menu afresh.

Day 78. Saturday 24 May.

The day dawned with promise, and J, for the moment, had sprung back – not all the way, mind you, but a little skip. T not so good after a sleepless night with a head too full of everything…

After a beautifully cooked/prepared leisurely breakfast, we decided to take the short trip to the Museo Etnografico del Reina de Pamplona. The road passes through fields of wheat and poppies, with the occasional cow, with her bell ringing, queen of the road.

Thanks to Google, we know that the museum is located in Casa Fantikorena, built in 1641. It consists of a ground floor and two upper floors and features 17th-century folk architecture.

There are nearly 8,000 artifacts from pre-industrial rural society, from the Ancient Kingdom of Navarre, grouped by trade. It was, of course, somewhat amusing and/or confronting that many of the items were not only familiar to us, but we also had used!

It was terrific, and we eventually started a conversation with the guide for the day. She was a delight, as we managed, with only a small reference to Google translate, to communicate. We did feel a bit underdone: she speaks Spanish, Basque, French, and a bit of English. A former school teacher of 24 years – her gestures told the back story – she retired but now travels around with a suitcase containing artifacts to tell the history of this region.

Our museum host advised of a coffee spot just up the road at Ultzurran. Turned out to be quite popular, tables of younger and older folk, kids and a dog, and we all had a beer and a little snack: chorizo roll, mushroom patty and tortilla.

Next idea was to try to find a memorial T and D had passed yesterday, so headed towards Ororbia. As we neared, we gave up, not recognizing any landmarks. Arriving at Ororbia, for some reason D turned right at a T-intersection, then sought somewhere to do a U turn. You guessed it – there was the site we were looking for, on the ‘wrong’ road we took yesterday.

It was a memorial connected to the Spanish Civil War. This grave is the one with the highest number of victims in this region, where several areas were chosen as the scene of shootings and murders due to their proximity to the detention centers established in Pamplona after the military coup of July 1936. Nine graves have been located to date, in which at least 73 people were murdered. The remains of 39 murdered people have been recovered thanks to exhumations carried out during the Franco regime.

The local Town Council, in collaboration with the memorial group Zurbau, has launched several initiatives to raise awareness of this horror. Each of the graves has been marked with a metal monolith, a plaque, and a QR code to provide information about the people murdered there.

In 2019, it was declared a Site of Historical Memory in Navarre. The memorial recognizes the horror Navarre experienced after the 1936 coup d’état and the political cleansing carried out against hundreds of people simply for thinking differently. One hopes that we learn from history.

That was enough for one day, so home we went, some to rest, some to continue to search for our next accommodation, some to read the news.

Dinner. Roast pork with roast vegetables, and steamed long flat green beans and broccoli.

And solely for medicinal purposes

Day 77. Friday 23 May.

A bit of a rest day – not only are D &T travel weary, but J has a cold. First task was a trip into the outskirts of Pamplona to pick up some more supplies and some stuff from a Farmacia to keep the symptoms at bay.

We stopped for a coffee on the return trip at Ororbia, a smallish village of 758 inhabitants. We started using some of our new found Spanish words, then English, then Google translate, then sign language. It was only the latter that worked! We were perplexed, but T had a lightbulb moment and out of interest (after the event) we selected Basque. Very different and presume that was the problem, but we haven’t tested the theory as yet.

A quick stroll around a very neat and probably well-to-do village, which we speculated might be close enough to the city to make commuting easy and far enough away for a rural lifestyle. Iglesia de San Julián de Ororbia was all closed up, but we were intrigued by the cross, but have been unable to discover what the Santas Missiones – Recuerdo Ororbia represent.

Google tells us that the church is a Gothic style temple, built in the first half of the 14th century. Not sure of the connection to Julián of Cuenca (c. 1127 – 28 January 1208), also known as Saint Julián, who was a Spanish Roman Catholic prelate who served as the bishop of Cuenca from 1196 until his death. He also served as a professor and preacher, in addition to being a simple hermit. He became a bishop after the Moors were driven from Cuenca and he made pastoral visits to the people in his diocese where he fed prisoners and provided grain for the poor farmers. But he never forgot his desire to live in solitude and made annual trips where he could best find silence before re-emerging to resume his episcopal duties. Ororbia has for some reason claimed him.

Reset Doris for the rest of the journey – she ‘Route Ended’ at Itza/Iza, nowhere near our home. 

Reset again and off we went, ignoring her until we were on a road we thought we recognised (wrong) but were still taken on a mostly new route to home, coming in from the other direction. All good – the roads were in very good condition, albeit one vehicle wide, but thankfully no oncoming traffic.An interesting afternoon drive through very lush wheat fields (?) and then sheer rock faces to be greeted by the welcome sign of our current home.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet: in the evening T and J took a walk into the village, meeting a few locals and some other visitors. The latter included a bunch of men (about 10 and none with any English, but Francaise?… ‘Non’) of a certain age and here for a weekend catchup. The girls were invited to join them for a drink: struggled for a while but declined. The former was a mother (aged 91 and glamorous as… and her daughter). Mum has lived her whole life in Azanza and she has seen a small farming community stripped of services and residents. Her daughter explained with Google translate that everyone has moved to Pamplona, the wheat fields are small holdings that can’t support a family so people work in Pamplona factories… (but someone plants and crops the wheat, T thought).

Dinner. Chicken soup. Delicious. And dinner table stories. And some red. Maybe J will be looking up tomorrow. 🤞🙏

Day 76. Thursday 22 May.

Day started with a car check…yes, she started first press! D told Doris that we want the route to the Peugeot shop in Pamplona provided by the Peugeot breakdown team. We’ll see what she delivers. It had turned cold & damp overnight in the Azanza hills, so coats on.

Joan phoned to say she’d be on a later train out of Barcelona (think she had a big sleep-in). Perfect really, as this would give us more time to sort car stuff.

Doris took several strange turns and we came to an industrial precinct with ‘nothing to do with cars’. So, new research and off we went in an opposite direction. At the correct location, D ‘spoke’ to service attendant, using the translated story he’d typed up. As sort of expected, there was no way the car could be fitted into the workshop schedule! (In a similar situation with the Ranger, the workshop foreman came out, had a look, hitched up the computer, identified the problem and sent D on his way in about 20 minutes). D sought advice, which was to just keep driving…I guess with fingers and toes crossed. Not, in D’s opinion, a good look for Peugeot, although we are reassured by the breakdown team’s excellent response.

Joan phoned again…she’d be on a later train…some mix-up with stations in Barcelona but a very kind young man on staff had sorted out the problem, settled her in the lounge and made sure she got on to the right train. 

This meant an afternoon to explore Pamplona or rather, get some maps and tourist information ahead of meeting Joan.

First parking spot seemed to be a paid affair and as we stood like dumb tourists at the vending machine, a gentleman approached and told us where we could have a free 24 hour park. Google maps to the rescue and after ‘Gracias’ (several), it was back to our parked vehicle. The gentleman kind of walked with us and as we opened the doors, so did he open the back door preparing to get in !!! A moment of confusion (panic)…was this some sort of hijack? No, he was simply a friendly chap who was offering to guide us to the free park. A perfect Ove type! We thanked him and said Doris would get us there, notwithstanding her patchy record.

We got to the old town, re-fuelled ourselves with quiche, tortilla and coffees, found the tourist office closed (re-opened at 3 pm), got some advice, strolled for a while and returned to the car through a lovely park, serenaded by the harsh call of peacocks. Enough walking for the day even though we’re not on a Camino – and we took pity on some walkers who were, with 1800 km to go!

Spelling of names in this Basque region is intriguing: lots of Zs, some Xs and other combinations. No idea of some of the pronunciations. This tiled sign was on the pasteleria where we had lunch. Quite a few of the town signs are upside down, too often to be a coincidence we think. Perhaps some sort of statement? And many signs are in two languages: so it is Pamplona and Iruna.

Used the comfort of the warm car for T to get slightly ahead with today’s blog and then to Aldi (quite near the station) to gather food (aka restocking after running down at last stay) before Joan rolls in. D bought wine and deposited it in the car. On his return to the store he was obviously acting suspiciously because he was approached by the lady who’d been on the checkout. He typed into Google translate that he was looking for his wife, and she looked shocked. D checked: he’d misspelt wife (and doesn’t know what he had put in!) so corrected and  pointed to T who had appeared down the aisle and she was then satisfied he was not some kind of nutter. And she had the good grace not to direct him to the bins of ‘out of date stock’.

Got to the train station in good order …a train pulls in delivering heaps of people…but no, it’s not the 1841 from Barcelona…that one is running over an hour late! Presume Joan isn’t the cause.

And much amusement as a bridal party (perhaps it was a hen’s party?) gathered to catch a train.

Joan arrived, we got to Azanza, we had a glass of wine. Life’s good.

Dinner. Tapas: white anchovies, smoked chicken slices, pate, smoked salmon, jamon, olives, pickled onions, pickled cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, Brie, baguette, with a greens and red onion salad.

Este es un vehículo de alquiler.

Anoche, después de recorrer 360 kilómetros, no arrancó. El motor giraba dos o tres segundos y luego se paraba.

Las luces del panel de instrumentos permanecieron encendidas y el auto no se bloqueaba con la llave.

Contacté con el servicio de asistencia Peugeot, que empezó a organizar una grúa. Una hora después, lo intenté de nuevo y el coche arrancó.Grúa cancelada. Peugeot me dio su dirección y me recomendó que revisara el coche. 

Day 75. Wednesday 21 May.

Exactly as predicted, our departure from Monica’s was ‘late’…around 11am (our packing up routine is usually an hour) and we try to leave our accommodations as we have found them.T wonders how they are all spotless (especially glass) and asked Monica about this…some supermarket spray (pity we can’t take some home). Isadora was back on the job (she can work through the night but Monica prefers not because of the night critters that would be disturbed).

Doris announces pretty promptly that we are to ‘go straight for about 190 kms so we won’t have her polite chatter interrupting our meditations. We don’t have music or even dialogue as we go along; D is in driver zone, T alternates between traffic panic and  scenery .The road along the Cantabrian coast is fairly quiet, with sea glimpses. Coffee with a view would be nice but alas, the choice was poor: the coastal town of Laredo has a surf school, lots of apartment towers with shutters down, a big hospital and virtually no cafes open. A quick stroll to check the waves…dead flat!

Typing this blog as we drive means T is temporarily distracted from traffic-watch and this should be a plus for D. 89kms to go! Time obviously flies with typing.

A text from next host pops up: ‘How is your trip going? ETA?’ T replies that another hour should be enough and so it was. After leaving the A1 we were on smaller roads and every town had at least one Z in its name, usually two, and occasionally the town name sign turned upside down. Why? No idea, but we’ll try to find out, suspecting it is some sort of protest from the Basques. It is a foreign land. A narrow winding mountain road brought us to Azanza (village of 17 residents, plus us for a few nights), mountainous, misty, a seemingly deserted cluster of houses and (perhaps former) church. We are at number 35, a big house with beautiful big windows overlooking green fields. Unpacked and wondering what to do about dinner when D announces, having tries to reposition it, that the car ‘won’t start’. Indeed, it seemed dead, unable to link to the controlling computer system…battery and engine lights showing a problem…. But not turning off: getting a command to ‘turn off engine before exiting car’ when clearly it was off. And it would not respond to the key(s) at all.

Consult manual, try again…nothing. Hmm! We are due to connect with Joan tomorrow at Pamplona, 30 kms away (no other details known at this stage) and we are in a remote area, with a dead car and nothing fresh for dinner but, as D boasts, we have a supply of red! 

While D talks to the French Peugeot Breakdown assistant, constantly checking on pronunciation of names, rego details etc with the International Phonetic Alphabet, and describing what the car is not doing, T makes a cup of tea. We’ll need to let Joan know of the situation, but she’s in the air between Morocco and Barcelona and we don’t have Wifi connection yet! Second cup of tea. 

Yuksel confirms that a tow truck will be sent to Azanza (it looks like a very small village he says, little does he know). T thinks…we have a bit of asparagus, some tomatoes, pasta, onion and garlic of course, so there will be something warm on the table tonight. The tow truck will come and we’ll speak to Joan at some point, and the insurance cover includes a hire car. T unpacks the remainder of car stuff, expecting that it will be taken away. It’s 1830 and then D gives it one last try and says ‘the car is working’! It corrected itself! D does some test driving manouevres and calls Peugeot with ‘cancel the tow’.

Wifi finally connected, car works, things are looking up. T sends texts to Joan, and opens a little bubbles, D has a beer, followed by a wine…or two.

Dinner. Curly Pasta with pantry remnants: white anchovies, olives, asparagus, tomatoes, onion, garlic, chilis (hot!), tomato purée, red wine.