The fountain runneth over, with wine!

The targeted highlight of today's 26k stage was the Fuente de Vino (fountain of wine) in Irache but that would come toward the end of the day.

We reluctantly said adios to Roberto of El Cantero but only after two each of the best café con leches this side of the Pyrenees. The sun was rising on our backs as the hilltop town of Cirauqui announced from its perch that it would not be taken easily. It was quiet just like all Spanish towns in the morning. These towns are beautiful but resemble ghost towns until 6-7pm.  As the evening air cools people begin to emerge, turning ghost town into fiesta-ville.  With our bellies full of croissants and café con leches we strode through town with a purpose, the fountain of wine.

We walked along a path through farms and gardens and only saw a few pilgrims all day. We seem to be getting out of sync with the masses as we try to gain a stage. We saw the friendly Spanish pilgrim who helped us shout on the Perdón. We met a young French woman with blisters so bad that she was walking in socks, still with a smile on her face. We met a young English lad who had two knee braces and a very heavy pack. Also still smiling.

Clare and I had a bit of an argument over a tip left on a fresh squeezed orange juice that she rated her best ever. We separated for a bit but came back together in the next square. She apologized and I told her about our rule for long brevets. What is said on the ride(trail), stays on the ride(trail). It's a good rule. Under stressful conditions and kindled with exhaustion, things can be said that otherwise wouldn't. Those things should not be remembered for long. Let them go.

On our approach to the small city of Estella we walked the last mile with a group of 30 or so high schoolers without a teacher in sight. What were they doing out here on the Way? They had hiked at least two miles dressed in regular street clothes. They all seemed to disappear as we entered the city just as everyone else. We did find one store open and tucked in for some bocadillos and cokes.

The sun was beating down on us with a determined focus to keep the streets clear under its watch. We kept moving while visions of wine fountains danced in our heads. We went up and over a small but very steep hill that seemed pointless except to inflict a wee bit more pain on the weary pilgrim before arrival at the font. We crossed the road that we had originally been traveling on and then headed up a shaded path on a slight uphill. At the top of that hill lay the Monastery of Irache and the famous Fuente de Vino. I've never been so happy to see a wine fountain in all my life, even though this was my first. They have a live web cam. We had a ball. Tradition has it that you drink from the scallop shell that one carries on their pack. Commercialism has it that you buy a souvenir glass from the vending machine opposite.

http://www.irache.com/en/enoturismo/fuente-del-vino.html

We took our fill of wine and our eventual rest stop for the night came into view. You couldn't miss it. A conical mountain arising before us. Fortunately we wouldn't have to climb to the top. But we did finish with a climb. We made it up that hill fueled by chocolate and dreams of a shower. Our clothes and bodies have now been washed and we've broken into the Lantiseptic. It's going to be a crazy night!