I had a most delicious supper last night (fish soup and stew of lamb riblets), slept well, and was looking forward to the day. It is supposed to be a pretty walk along the Arga River, which like all self-respecting rivers flows downhill. The trail, however, doesn't feel constrained by silly gravity, so from the get go you start climbing steeply along the left bank of the river, and from there on you go down to cross tributary streams and back up again for no apparent reason.
Well, there was a reason for the first hump, as a mining company has taken over the bank to operate several small open pits, process the material, and make big piles of the stuff. What are they mining? Magnesite, MgCO3. This close relative of the much more abundant mineral calcite (CaCO3), found in limestones, was likely formed as hydrothermal fluids exchanged ions with the run-of-the-mill limestones of Navarra. A small panel by the side of the trail lets people know that they are crossing private property, and please stay on the path, and extolls the benefits of magnesite for refractory purposes (MgCO3 is roasted to form MgO or spinel, which is highly refractory), as an amendment to ag soils, and some unspecified virtues for the purpose of environmental cleanup.
Some of the other ups and downs must have been because the property owners down by the river did not want peregrinos tromping all over their properties, which I find quite uncharitable. The river was indeed beautiful on the few places where the path approached it, and was much celebrated by the young peregrinos who delighted on swimming in it. It is delightful to see so many people making friends, laughing in many languages, and radiating energy and good cheer. I have been more like the tortoise, keeping a slow but steady rhythm so, on the average, I am moving at the same speed as that of my younger and more energetic friends.
I have been slowing down, and I will blame it on the geology because the sandstones break into small, angular pieces, that sooner or later poke through my shoe unto the sole of my foot. Mind you, I am also to blame, because instead of wearing proper boots I brought my old walking shoes, the bottom of which is by now pretty thin. But I am nothing if not stubborn, and limping a bit on the left foot I reached Pamplona around 16h00, and my accommodations by 16h30.
I am staying at one of the university dorms, in a perfectly comfortable student room with its own bath, bed, desk, and bookshelves. The residence looks quite new, and I am smack in the center of town. I have booked three nights (two full days), and plan to spend tomorrow Saturday on a flash trip to Burgos, and Sunday exploring Pamplona itself.
Oh, Muriel enlightened me about the fate of the fat horses of the High Pyrenees: They are kept up there to reproduce and grow up, while at the same time keeping the weeds (or the blackberries) from taking over the ground cover. Once they reach working age, they are brought down to auction in the lowlands (they should bring them down the “Primitive Camino”), where farmers buy them as work animals. So don't worry, you will not see them as part of your hamburger in MacDonald's.
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