San Juan De La Peña

Early on the morning of Thursday 16 October I left Jaca slightly unwillingly and headed west towards Santa Cilia. (The night before the bars in Jaca - there must have been 30 or 40 of them - had taken part in a tapas promotion - all competing to create the most memorable tapas. You could vote for which one you liked the best. Each bar charged exactly the same price - which was €2.40 for a tapa and a glass of quality red wine. Not bad! I lost count of how many I'd had by the end of the evening ...)

After a few km I was faced with a choice of routes - either to carry straight on to Santa Cilia along an easy, level path, or to turn south into the mountains on a long and strenuous semi-circular detour which took in the monastery of San Juan de la Peña. Crazily I went for the difficult option. At first I didn't regret it as the views were terrific ...

But after a few hours I did begin to wonder if I'd done the right thing. The steep, rocky, woodland paths seemed to snake on upwards for ever. It was a hazy, sultry day, and I quickly became very tired. But there was no turning back now. Eventually, after descending into a shallow valley and losing most of the height I'd gained so far, I arrived at the small settlement of Atarés ...

After which it was yet more uphill for several hours. I was now climbing dry, stony gullies in a wilder, more open landscape. By the time I'd reached a small mountain road at the top of a remote pass I felt completely exhausted. Another long hour later and I was walking by the new, inhabited Baroque monastery of San Juan de la Peña. The old Mozarabic and Romanesque monastery had been abandoned centuries ago after several fires. I stumbled my way along a very quiet road which curved down into a deep-cut gorge and led to the old monastery, which was wedged, almost unbelievably, beneath a huge, overhanging rock ...

It was still a good distance from here back to the main route from which I'd deviated that morning. So, on hearing a car approaching behind me, I stuck out my thumb. The car stopped. And its very friendly Belgian occupants took me all the way down this dramatic valley, through the village of Santa Cruz de los Serós with its 2 fine Romanesque churches, and deposited me by the side of the N240 - which I followed for the remaining few km to Santa Cilia. It had been a tiring but wonderful day.

Jaca

Just before Jaca I passed the hermitage of San Cristóbal ...

Jaca was an important pilgrim halt on the medieval Camino and capital of Aragón in the 11th century - before capital status was transferred to Huesca and then to Zaragoza. This is the clock tower ...

And this the cathedral of San Pedro ...

It actually dates from as early as 814 but has been changed and added to over the centuries - so that it's now a complete mixture of styles rather than being purely Romanesque. Like most Spanish churches and cathedrals it was quite dark inside, though the spectacular ribbed ceiling was illuminated ...

Something kept drawing me back into this cathedral but I'm not sure what it was. However I really liked the fact that people (local people not just sightseers) were popping in for a quick prayer at all times during the day. It felt vitally used and frequented and was not just simply another tourist attraction or architectural anachronism. At 8 pm I sat in a back pew and listened to choir practice. Someone had put some sacred lyrics to that heart-tugging melody in Dvorák's New World Symphony (2nd movement) and the choir sang them over and over. It was moving to hear these echoing voices harmonizing in the semi-darkness ...

This is the pentagon-shaped citadel in Jaca. I was surprised to see deer roaming round the grassy moat (in the photo you can make out a stag in the foreground shadow) ...

I liked Jaca so much I spent 2 nights there; also I was in much need of some rest and recuperation. I stayed in the Hotel Pradas, which offered a very favourable rate to pilgrims ...

Crossing The Border

The next morning Steven rose at the crack of dawn and was eager to get moving. He left in the pouring rain at 8 o'clock - and I never saw him again! I, however, was relishing the unusually comfortable mattress in the gîte - and wanted to rest my feet a little longer too, as they'd been giving me hell the previous afternoon. It wasn't till 10 am that I hit the trail. But at least the rain had stopped by then - and it remained fine for the rest of the day.

There was a choice of ways to the Col du Somport and the border with Spain - one on woodland paths and one via the road. I took the easy option - along the road - and was very glad I did, for the views were much less restricted on this route. I was also pleased that the traffic was fairly light. After 16 km of ascent (except for the last 6 km most of it fairly gradual it must be said) I reached the col - at 1632 m the highest point of the whole journey.

Somport is a small ski resort, but it was too early for serious snow (in fact the weather was very mild indeed) and the place was utterly deserted. I crossed the frontier at 3 pm. I didn't stop but immediately made my way down a steep and stony path on the other side. I was in Spain! The scenery changed quite dramatically. It was wilder and more arid. There were more conifers and spiky, sun-loving plants.

I was following the valley of the Rio Aragón and would continue to shadow this river for nearly a week ...

That day I'd walked 27 km and had enjoyed every minute of it. I spent the night at Canfranc-Estación. I had no choice but to stay in some rip-off holiday accommodation as the pilgrim albergue was shut. The next day I headed down river once again - towards Jaca, 24 km distant. Castellio de Jaca was one of the prettiest villages I passed through ...





These cute chimney stacks which I photographed in Castiello are typical of the Aragón region ...

I remained close to the Aragón river at all times, and the river bed gradually widened as I walked further south ...