We’ve arrived at the Santa Anna albergue in Pasaia, some 8km from tomorrow’s breakfast venue, San Sebastián. It’s been a relatively short day, 18.87km from our starting point at Hendaye train station.

I slept well, mum less so but both of us were wide awake and ready for breakfast at 8 o’clock. I’d specifically picked the hotel for its proximity to the train station and while waiting for the train mum and Tom indulged in a quick callisthenics session.

Stretch those calves Thomas 😊.

The route out of Hendaye quickly made its way across the bridge connecting France to Spain.

Irun was in the throes of some sort of collective red and white frenzy. We’d seen this in Pamplona on the Frances but I’d assumed that it was specific to the bull running festival. I can’t find any reference on the web to this obsession of dressing in red and white apart from the bull running but given what we saw in Irun today, it’s clearly a much more general celebration.

They’ve even dressed the mannequins similarly.

and the dogs

We stopped for coffee and the ubiquitous bocadillo with ham and after a brief respite for Tom headed off.

What do you make of these next two images?

The route took us quickly out of the city alongside the river and up into the hills overlooking Irun.

Life in the countryside clearly runs at a slower pace exemplified by these pictures.

Pretty much all the dwellings we passed as we started to climb had chained dogs guarding them.

Perhaps they have a real problem with crime here but I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor chaps.

We saw our first rhododendrons 😊

The path led us upwards through a small forest of deciduous trees.

until we arrived at a small church, Guadalupeko Ermita where a service, broadcast to sundry passers by was in swing.

We spent a pleasant half hour enjoying a feast of sourdough bread with almond butter and tomatoes, finishing off with banana and cherries bought earlier in Irun.

Shortly after leaving the hermitage the path to San Sebastián split, one advertised as for the less fit and technically proficient pilgrims running alongside the mountain, the second for the super fit, technical pilgrim gods up and along the ridge where they were promised views consistent with their saintly nature. Tom choose the former whilst the latter chose me. Dorothy elected to come with me.

Ah, the foolishness of youth.

The path up onto the mountain took no prisoners.

400m of a 1 in 3 climb took us to this rather interesting stile .

The local sheep no doubt take it in their stride but it stumped Dorothy and I for a good five minutes. Trust me, when your legs are as wobbly as ours were this was a tricky problem.

Eventually we made it through but 100m later …

(Sigh)

The remaining 8km or so along the ridge was ok, no pilgrims but groups of French and Spanish family members passed us occasionally.

There were plenty of attractive wild horses and cows

as the path wound its way up and over small protrusions of sandstone.

She looks a little small in this image but Dorothy’s wobbly legs had wobbled to a standstill as I looked back over our ascent.

When she finally caught up with me I took this nice photo and then we had what is now going to be our own personal ‘selfie’.

As you can see, I’m fresh as a daisy while wobbly legs unseen, Dorothy is hanging on for dear life.

We saw some wonderful views as promised earlier.

(I know you’ve seen it before but I like the image 😊)

Eventually we reached the apogee of our route and found ourselves at the level of the clouds where a young Spanish couple enjoyed the views into the valley at their feet.

A final push saw us up and through a small defile.

The descent was gentle at first as we dropped into a profusion of plant and butterfly life.

Perhaps the most touching scene was the miniature forest of sessile oaks. In adverse conditions oaks can take 50 years to grow 50 centimetres. I wonder how old these oaks actually were.

The technical nature of the path became self evident as we found ourselves bouldering over obstacles, leaping from rock to rock surrounded all the while with weird and wonderful shaped sandstone monoliths, remnants of an uplifted ocean.

We joined Tom’s path

and shortly afterwards came across this particular entrepreneur.

Our first Camino tile

Concrete which clearly saw the passage of a herd of sheep before it had had time to set.

and some more rhododendrons.

We caught up with Tom who was making his way very gingerly down towards the sea.

His Baker’s cyst was clearly playing up and he was in considerable pain. He’s since decided to take tomorrow off and will join us in our intended target in Orio tomorrow evening.

Pasaia is an attractive small village perched on the side of a mountain, reaching down to the sea.

I’m writing this having just finished dinner in what seems to be the only open restaurant in town.

We’ll need to head back to the albergue shortly. It closes at 10 o’clock and it’s 9:16 now. Tom has had his bottle of Chardonnay to himself while I’ve had to share a decent bottle of Rioja with Dorothy 😞.

In lieu of Taliesin, I’ll finish off with images of a small dog who became my friend whilst waiting for Tom to negotiate his way down the steps into the village.

Buen Camino