A good friend advised me to take the toll road for the bit where France meets Spain at the Atlantic coast for it's quite cheap definitely quicker. However, I felt like going to Guethary. So many times I wanted to see this place or even surf there. It actually felt as if I must have been there before, but these days I realised that I had not even read the paragraph in the stormrider properly, yet. Not only is this tiny village in the Basque country heaps beautiful but also does it host this huge wave called Avalanche that I'd kept an eye out for from the road before. It wasn't breaking when I was there, though. We stayed at the little harbour for the night and I made pancakes for breakfast the next day.
Since the waves were very small and the forecast looks great only for the days to come, it was a great slot to visit my Spanish brothers in Pamplona! The drive from San Sebastian (Donostia) leads up into the stunning Pyrenees with their snowy tops. It goes uphill forever. From sea level you're virtually going up to more than 600 metres in one go on the Autobia das Montanas. Friz was huffing and puffing but made without overheating.
Pamplona is home to about 200.000 inhabitants and sits at an altitude of 450 or so metres, resulting in the temperatures being quite a bit lower than at the coast where for the first time on this trip we got up to 13 °C. Every year in July, Pamplona is put into the global spotlight when the festival of Sanfermines takes place for no less than 9 consecutive days. Every morning during the festival, six bulls run through the alleys up to the bullring. And quite a lot of guys seeking the kick running with them. This tradition goes a few hundred years back when the bulls were guided by herdsmen to the bullring up in the city and people started helping the herdsmen before then they probably got bored and started running with the bulls. Only for a short distance though because they are incredibly fast! 700 kg moving at about 25 km/h! That's quite a bit of energy. Back then and still today, somewhat sadly, the purpose of the run has been the bullfight in the afternoon with all of the six bulls being killed. This famous running of the bulls, being the "highlight" for most spectators, normally only lasts about 3 minutes. That's what it takes them terrified animals to run the 825 metres. Just as some of us rushing not to miss the tram to work or school. Eyes wide open, pulse racing, sweating - not actually facing death, though.
I'm staying here with Alberto and his parents, sister and grandmother. They are all too lovely. José used to drive trucks all over Europe so we had something in common instantly. It didn't take long and he got the map on the kitchen table, recalling all the places he'd been to. Last night grandma stayed around and also today. She doesn't feel too well. For being 89 she's still sprightly, though. We had breakfast together and now she sits in the lounge knitting while I'm writing. We eat a lot of traditional local food and always have red wine with it. It feels like home and I'm so thankful for being considered another family member.