_Thumbnail.JPG) | 03.08.08 Sunday.
Jaca to Berdun.
After a walk round Jaca we had an evening meal with George our friendly car salesman from Valencia tasting some local red wines by the glass. The hostel closes at 10pm and we just made it back in time, George hung around down stairs with a cigar and let a few stragglers in.
It was an interesting night, there had been a stag party going on in the bar we ate in and whether this had spread through the town or whether there really was a full scale riot going on outside, or if this was just normal Saturday night in Jaca, but the noise did not die down until about 0430. An hour later we were getting up to walk and avoid the heat. We hit the street at 0545 in the dark and set off following the brass scallop shells in the centre of the street, after an awkward bit where they seemed to vanish we picked up the familiar yellow arrows with red and white waymarks. The Camino, even the less frequented Aragonese part seems to be much better marked than any of the GRs in France.
By now it was light enough to see on the rough cart track we were on and the way continued down the Canal de Berdun, canal in this context being simply Spanish for a valley not an artificial waterway. We had breakfast at some picnic tables and pressed on rapidly to get some miles done before the heat really started. A brief stop for a coffee and we were in Puenta de Reina de Jaca (not the bigger town further down the route of the similar name), having passed through a patch looking like someone’s art project with round stones piled randomly on top of each other in a patch of forest scrub.
The route supposedly now followed a main road to Berdun but left it as it wound further north crossing fields and dry river valleys to reach Berdun a small town on a hill dominating its surrounding area. By now the day had warmed up, we had covered 31km and it was 1230h. We struggled sweating up the hill to look for an inn or the pilgrim hostel not entirely sure what awaited us.
In Berdun we found a small bar and restaurant down a little street and bought a beer. The landlady told us that there wasn’t a full menu as it was Sunday so we bought an omelette each and then went for a circuit of the town looking for accommodation. Having found none, we returned to the bar to ask if there was any accommodation in the town to be told that it was actually available via this bar! So we are now ensconced in pilgrim accommodation a few yards down the street in a old house where the bar stores their excess stock. It seems to be just the job!
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