Listen up Pilgrim.

 Saint Jean is an important stop on the Camino de Compostella, the great religious walk(s) across western Europe that culminate in San Diego de Compostella. Turns out San Diego is At James (I never knew that!) and bits of him were supposedly brought to this corner of Spain and buried away for 700 odd years before being revealed to some shepherds who followed a star. Blah blah. Anyway, walking there caught on with the penitent, and continues to this day. If you complete the walk you can wear a clam shell, as those original pilgrims were fed clams on arrival.

It's quite a nice town with much of its original wall remaining. What the photos  don't show are the dozens of pilgrims who headed off over the pass just this morning. (I think J may have photo on her blog.)

The route crosses the Pyranees to Roncesvalles and on to Pamplona. It has a lot of history behind it as a passage between France and Spain (or at least the areas that preceded these countries) and is only 801m high, though on a very windy road.

This rock is a memorial to Roland who was killed in 778 when Charlemagne's rearguard was ambushed after they had left from beating up Pamplona. Roland got a PR makeover a few hundred years later and become a Someone. The view is up the valley from Saint Jean.

And this is Spain.

Ha! Not German concrete, but Spanish. Part of the 30's/40's border defence line.

Spanish defences in the area of the pass.

The chapel at Ibaneta pass. The door was locked so only a glimpse was available but the coloured glass imbedded in the wall gives a lovely effect.

The pass was also significant in the Napoleonic War when Soult launched an attack here in an attempt to flank Wellington. The French had to climb those hills before attacking. Respect. (The Allies eventually withdrew, but the French were halted outside Pamplona.)

More windiness to Pamplona, but the whole trip was only 1.5 hours and can be walked in a (long) day apparently! I'm not too sure many of the pilgrims we saw would do that.

So we stopped in yet another roadside park, then bused into Pamplona. What a nice first impression of Spain (or Navarre) it gives.

The city is, of course, famous for the running of the bulls. Last year only 8 people were gored, so that's OK. We miss the festival by several months.

This is where the bulls come to die, so taking a few twats with them seems only fair.

Liberty, with scales in one hand and the Fuera (sp?) In the other. I believe that's the document giving Navarre autonomy.

No bulls but the streets were humming.

And then this. Apparently the chef likes NZ culture.

The Town Hall plaza where all sorts of festivities occur.

There may not have been bulls running but there were plenty of fit b'stards doing so as it was the Pamplona half-triathlon. We watched the winner come in.

Finally we visited the museum, but it was a bit of a fail as there was no English and my phone was flat so no translation. To make things worse many items had no information at all, even in Spanish/Basque.

Info or no, the artistry in this is undeniable.

Coming out we could hear this lot:

I don't know if this is a typical Saturday but the vibe was pretty cool.

We had our first pintxos, a snack selection similar to tapas. Mine was cheap, but rather bland which was disappointing.

Strolled a little further then bused back to Reggie.