Well, in retrospect - now that I’m 24km distant (in Alfaro) I think Tudela deserves another chance.
I arrived on a Sunday close to 1700hrs when even the most traditional of the lunchtime clientele had called for the bill. I survived off ample reserves of stored fat through to 20:00 when - in terms of catering - nothing happened. The choices were a ‘cheese and wine’ specialist - which was excellent but expensive; a pulperia* and a clutch of freezer and microwave outlets.
The cathedral was closed whilst the whole town seemed busy and noisy.
I’d be very ungrateful and wrong to write Tudela off, but Sunday’s not the best day.
The hotel was fine, but breakfast forgettable.
So off we go to Alfaro.
A mix of tarmac and gravel senda, under overcast sky at about 23 degrees throughout. Ideal mosquito conditions unfortunately - and as the only peregrino in evidence - I was on the menu,
It’s a massive produce growing area; to the left maize as far as the eye can see, and cabbages to the right - as prescribed by Rodrick Spode (
@Peterexpatkiwi - that’s for you) and later commercial apple orchards where I was astounded by the proportion of rejects - obviously not to supermarket standard - discarded on the floor to rot.
In terms of route, I’d already spotted that ‘keeping straight on’ at the small chemical plant, rather than taking the riverside route, would save a couple of Km and after yesterday’s effort, I was OK with that. At the junction I found the Camino sign went the shorter way anyway.
Waymarking is OK - sufficient so long as you have a decent idea where you’re going. In towns though it’s well signed - I think the Ajuntamiento budget is spent where the voters can see it. Plus cą change.
I didn’t stop until Castejón, where I made use of every facility on offer in a pleasant little town which has obviously expanded recently.
I patronised the farmacia - repelente de insectos (el más fuerte) y crema para picaduras de insecto, un tubo grande.
Also second breakfast of torreznos y cerveza and a sello from the very helpful ajuntamieno (also very well-signed, probably with the residual funds from the Camino sign budget).
Another 5km at a slower pace got me to Alfaro. A bit scruffy, so I feel at home.
I’m in the Hotel HM Alfaro (one dim star) with the only obviously open restaurant Al Fundo - and without a trace of irony, also called ‘Al Fundo’. The €13 menu del dia was attended by 20+ locals all better dressed than I, and that’s a low bar to clear even though I’ve showered and changed. It was good: a paella which wasn’t going to be ‘casera’, but was; turkey, which arrived as pork - but was fine, and a casero flan which wasn’t. The wine was fine and the camarera efficient.
The hotel is actually excellent. Basic, but modern, clean and well-staffed. That’s all anywhere has to do to get praise from me - exceed my expectations, no matter the star rating.
The big tourist draw here are the storks. I like storks and there are nests everywhere, although in another masterstroke of timing the actual storks are currently in Africa.
I shall now do some long overdue laundry, apply the farmacias products copiously and comment on the evening’s attractions in due course.
*(Ah yes, the stray asterisk by ‘pulperia’. I don’t eat octopus on principle - and I haven’t got many of those. I’m far from veggie and I used to shoot and eat my own game - and would again if ever needed, but it no longer sits comfortably with me as recreation. I never would have shot a hare and I’ll never eat pulpo - I know all animals have character; but some more than others.
I met an octopus in Corsica years ago, in an aquarium regrettably - but better that than a kitchen; I shook hands / tentacle with it. There was a plank with a brick on the top of the octopus tank as it had figured out how to - at night - climb out of it’s own tank, scurry across the floor and into other tanks, eat the occupants and return home before the staff arrived. It was only rumbled when someone finally spotted the wet tentacle-prints across the floor. Since then I’m firmly on the side of the octopuses.)