and not a minute before - the dining room door of the hotel locked to the last second like a branch bank, despite the champing throng. Bland ham and cheese to supplement the toast and jam - "not French!" On our way by 9 o'clock, with 734 k to go according to Alison, but the village sign more pessimistic. Initially we were in the company of five jolly Belgian men who could well have been auditioning for a francophone version of 'Auf Wiedersehen Pet'. The shaded path took us down to the village of Burguete, a perfectly valid alternative stopping place, more modern and airy than the somewhat gloomy and serious Roncesvalles. Throughout the day it has been noticeable how much money has been pumped into new building and substantial renovation. Is this part of the Spanish property boom? After farmland and 
unwashed cows we came to Espinall, again neat and tidy and well restored. A shop and a bar were hidden away and we stopped for coffee and to buy our lunchtime sandwiches.There were some stiff uphills but the walking was pleasant and we put the kilometers behind us. We passed a number of fords over streams and they seemed to conform to all current Health and Safety requirements. The route turned into concrete crazy paving as we approached Viskarret in the company of a young Irishman who was walking solo and relatively unprepared - in trainers. He thinks he is heading for Pamplona today which sounds ambitious.
The village houses were notable for their huge wooden balconies and house timbers, each house dated with engraved precision. At what point in its life do you add the date to your building? Immediately afterwards we got very wet in a cloud burst that followed a warning, but ignored, thunderclap.We walked to the hamlet of Linzoáin where we had lunch at the roofed pelote court which according to Alison is technically a frontón - a variation of the Basque game that requires a side wall and a low back-wall, or so I am informed. We dried our outerwear in the sunshine while being visited by three village cats and a dog. We also chatted to the three Frenchmen last seen up a mountain. They too started in Puy four years ago and are enjoying seeing what you don't see from a car. As we left the village we walked under a high wooden walkway that joins the upper floor of a massive house to its walled garden the other side of the road. There has to be a reason.
Plenty more enjoyable walking thereafter, with lots of sightings of birds of prey as we took a steep climb to the Alto de Erro pass. There we caught up with the Irishman nursing his feet which were in fairly dramatic condition - he will not make Pamplona today. Mind you he had been fortunate enough to avoid the drenching rain earlier by pausing for a coffee in Viskarret. You can't win 'em all. The final 8k seemed a long stretch but we eventually reached our evening destination. Our Hosteria was easily found - on the main road and we will need the double glazing. The owner is most solicitous and amiable, providing plastic bags for our boots and paper slippers to go up the well polished little stairs, which is tricky with heavy bags.
Supper will be modified-Spanish-time (8.30pm) so we have plenty of time to wash and rest and see the sights - a little bar for a beer and the 'Rabies Bridge'. According to legend an animal could be cured by getting it to walk three times round the middle column, or indeed straight across - the surviving instructions are not as helpful as they might be. The adjoining building is a former leprosarium. Nice.We also found the five Belgians who were not at all impressed by the local price of supper - or of the beer. Supper at our hotel was quite ambitious. 13 guests in all.
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