500 miles walking the Camino to Santiago de Compostela

Read on below in other post for the tales of the camino to Santiago de Compostela but I’m fresh back from a different kind of route. There were two key points i had to get to and both successfully navigated I am now an expert on buses in spain, buses from valencia to zaragosa, buses from zaragosa to borja, buses from borja to tarasona, buses from tarasona to tudela, buses from tudela to san sebastien and pamplona, travel from San Sebastien to Hendaye, buses from San Sebastien to Hendaye, trains from San Sebastien to Hendaye and then through France, trains Hendaye to bayonne and beyond to Btodeaux, Angouleme and finally, trains from Angouleme to St Junien and trains from St Junien to St Bryce sur vienne

One ignores the trains in Spain at their peril as they are many circuitous and few, but a look at the renfe.com will enlighten. If time is important then clearly getting a train to Madrid and back out again at a different angle is usually the quickest way but mixing buses and trains lets you see more.

Borja is 45 minutes away from Zaragoza and a typical town made famous by its 80 year old painter from a pueblo 5km away. High on the hills outside of Borja and a stiff 90 minute walk uphill is the touched up picture which now looks like the scream, but more of that later.

I started at El Campello on the tram to Alicante, then the train Alicante to Valencia, then a walk around outside the station, Valencia Nord while the students were protesting against the cuts in state education, I got my bearings and asked how to get to the bus station, or as I would say Donde esta estacion d’autobus. To which the pack of bus drivers waved me over the road and round the square to get a number 8, that’s ocho, or one full hand and three fingers. I figured it not to be a sexual gesture and duly took out 8 euros and crossed the road and walked past the brothel to the bus stop, whereupon a number 8 whirled me about the city first heading east, too far I thought, then doubling round to go north, this is better, then north by north west, then west, and now I think we could be back in town again and my 30 minutes are almost up, but WOW! there I am at the bus station. Its probably a 40 minute walk but in that heat with my heavy pack, plus my rucsac, well it was clearly too much.

At the Valencia station you are reminded that all the bus companies have different windows. Seems fair. Why have a central bus station selling all tickets when you can have each bus company occupying a single office selling a different line. Mine was called Grupo Jiminez and 17 euro gets the bus from Valencia to Zaragoza cross country and with a superb wifi on the bus, as well as the toilet facilities required of a 4 hour journey. Here’s the rub though it doesn’t take 4 hours. The train takes 4 hrs 53 minutes so its a no no, this bus was superb. It stopped at Teruel for 10 minutes and everyone got off. It made me a bit lonely thinking we must change here, but no its just a pit stop and everyone got back on again. Its a great bus, really comfy and heartily recommended. It left at 2.30 and arrived at Teruel 4pm and left again at 4.15pm I think. It also arrived at 6.15 not the 6.30 as billed. Another bit of enlightenment arrived an hour later as I fart in a trance tried to get my bearings. My planning had not extended to booking a hotel or anything clever, merely to get to Zaragoza. Zaragoza has 3 train stations and one combined train and bus station, called delicidias. The other two stations are calle Portillo and Goya. After much confusion I jumped a train (they’re every 30 minutes from Delicdias to the other two @28 minutes past and 58, and I conspired to get very confused and tried to get a train that was arriving from Goya. Very bizarre, but I’d left El Campello on the 9am tram, got the 11.09 train Alicante to Valencia and was probably a bit wiped out. I got to Goya walked out onto the Gran Via and saw the Gran Via hotel. They saw me and 50 euro later I had a room in a knocking shop. It couldnt keep me awake as I was headed downtown. Follow the tram to the bottom of the street, go through the shopping centre in front of you and it opens out into an Aladdins cave of alleys and tapas bars aplenty. Superb. 5 bars, 9 tapas, back up the road and a night cap and another tapas, salty anchovies with olives is fairly plain, but a lovely way to end the evening. Next morning it was Borja.

The bakers across the road from the hotel had the look of a patisserie, panaderia I could enjoy, so I did. Then I got train back to Deliciadas and bus from Zaragoza to Borja. This comoany is called Therpasa. I tried to book my next stage on the 1.30 to Tarazona, and then the 3.30 to Tudela but she looked at me, felt no pity, a fair amount of scathing, her job was tough enough without idiots like me mumbling, por favor…followed by some abusive description of the towns. Borsha, right, Si, Borsha. Ok, no problem. one ticket was better than none and I was on my way down the motorway to Borja.

When I fell off the bus at 10.45 I felt another breakfast was in order as I got my bearings and searched for the church so bought some postcards and headed to a cafe. It turns out my wee church is not here, but 5km out of town. A big hike uphill was rescued by some excellent confused walking. A driver stopped in his white van and after much gesticulating said get in ya daft we bugger and I’ll drive you up to it. How grateful I was as white van man took me up a long and winding road. Apparently this is where John Lennon first got to thinking that the Beatles were as big as Jesus, while Paul just sat and wrote a song and the other two were beautifully spaced looking at the majestic coutnryside.

photo

Once up close and personal you can see what the 80 year old Spanish woman was trying to accomplish but it is sadly not quite what she was aiming for and with the church guardians stopping her finishing her restoration it does have a bit of the SCREAMs about it. Its now a huge tourist trap and I along with 6 other pilgrims were visiting the freeze that day. 1 euro to feast your eyes on this wonder was a euro well spent and although the hastily erected cafe was closed you could sense there would be some brisk traffic in the summertime. I was happy to be left quietly contemplating other things relating to old and young and with such a humourous backdrop contemplation was spot on, I know many no longer around to see it would’ve thoroughly approved of being remembered in such a chapel, but back down the road I must go.

Its an hour to get down the road as it is all downhill. The grapes on the vine are free to the walker as are the olives in their groves, I settled on grapes.

They were superb and within an hour I was back down the road and headed to the bus station

I was in luck, the tarazona bus was late and so 2 euro would get me there in 5 minutes if I waited

I waited

I waited

It was vertainly late but I was happy the next one was 4pm and so the 1.30pm leaving at 2.15 suited me perfectly.

I arrived in Tarazona at 2.45pm

I arrived and looked around and thought, hmmm

This is aint quite what I expected. I was hoping bus station and the like but this was bus stop and no like.

In fact I was in the middle of nowhere with no idea, and so I had to speak Spanish again to strangers. How lucky am I that my idiocy seems to charm them into trying to help El Stupido. In short order I had been taken to a bus stop that was of no use and then told to head down the hill. She seeme dto be saying trust me, keep to the right, there is a town centre down there, yes it looks like a shit hole, but veer right you’ll hit a roundabout and the tourismo will help you.

How lucky was I Tarazona down the hill in the centre is magnifico.