Continuing the theme of finding certain things that have fictionally occurred to Martin Sheen’s family, a moment on the stage from Zubiri to Pamplona presented me with another opportunity to stake a claim to brief superiority.

In an attempt to inject a flash of actual drama into the otherwise pedestrian story of a man walking a very long way, Martin Sheen’s character in “The Way” sits down on a bridge for a bit of a rest, only to see his rucksack then tumble into the river below, prompting a semi-alarming swim to retrieve it.

Today, I sat at what I thought was the same bridge and quite easily avoided the same fate by steadfastly not undoing the straps.

Victory was mine.

Naturally, the Universe wanted a word with me about this sort of braggadocio, so immediately afterwards, I walked off in the wrong direction (for the first time) for about half a mile.

That’ll teach me.

Later on, I was further advised that, in true Hollywood style, the bridge that featured in the film was in fact nowhere near the Camino route, and had been selected for its starring role solely on the more dramatically fast-flowing river below, rather than any sense of geographical accuracy.

Hollywood, eh? The actual bridge was perfectly gorgeous anyway.

Other than that slight misstep, it’s been a very good third stage. I entered Basque Country along gorgeous woodland paths, mostly in the shade from the sun, which put in a proper appearance for the first time today.

The locals were generally friendly, although these geese weren’t too keen to see me walk through their patch.

About two hours into the morning, most of the group I’m walking with stopped for a second breakfast at a lovely cafe in Zuriain, and I found myself going into an ecstatic state over a slice of spinach omelette and a freshly squeezed orange juice.

I know.

A Spinach Omelette.

Really.

We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

There was also another little reminder of “The Way” when I came upon a refreshment stall manned by a cheerful chap called Dan who had met Martin Sheen during filming. He was clearly rather proud of that moment too!

The later section of the third stage brought us into Pamplona, a pretty large town with lots of people making lots of noise, which was a bit of a contrast after a couple of days of cowbells and birdsong.

Famous for Hemingway and bulls, Pamplona was bustling with metropolitan hubbub, with countless bars and restaurants competing for our attention, a brief reminder of urban life.

That’ll all change again tomorrow.

Accommodation Report:

Albergue Rio Arga Ibaia, Zubiri:

I gave up my lower bunk bed to an older American lady in a ten-person dorm right next to a foaming river which created enough white noise to cancel out any snorts and snorers.

No bedbugs, but the mosquitoes have certainly found me, in five places.

Little gits.

Health Report:

Left Foot, Right Foot, Left Shoulder and Right Shoulder remain happy travellers, as does Right Knee.

However, I am suspicious about Left Knee’s sullen silence, which may disguise its true intent to wreak revenge at a later date.

I’m watching you, Left Knee.

Still no blisters.

Don’t quite understand that, but I am not complaining.

Good news: I successfully used my pocket knife to cut a new hole in my belt.

Bad news: I cut my little finger open when closing the knife up again. Ouch.

Trips, Slips and Falls: 0 (0)

Applications of Factor 50: 4 (8)

Filling of Water Bottles: 2 (6)

Number of times “Buen Camino” was said: Well down again on the first day, less than 100.

I’m trying to launch “See you along the way” as a pleasing alternative, but it’s not really landing yet.

Poncho deployments: 0 (2)

Wrong turns taken: 1

Now, let’s see what Saturday night in Pamplona looks like.

It is Saturday, isn’t it?