The Windmills Of Your Mind

CAMINO FRANCÉS – Day 4: Saturday 12 April 2025 – PAMPLONA to PUENTE la REINA (24 [+2] kilometres)

Buoyed by my rest day in Pamplona, and with fresh legs, I was also lucky today in having perfect walking conditions – cool air, good visibility, a light breeze, and some bright sunny spells as the day wore on. This was a short day on my Camino Francés path, just six hours of activity, although it did have an intermittent ascent through the morning, eventually up to the aforementioned col – I was surprised to learn later, reading my Brierley guidebook, that I had climbed a cumulative total of nearly 500 metres. It must have been the exertions of Day 1 that make all other climbs seem modest – at least for the next few stages of the walk. And with the cooler conditions I got through a mere two litres of water today (about half of my intake on Days 1 and 2), finding supplies when needed at a couple of the villages en route.

After exiting Pamplona and heading westwards the Camino path provides a noticeable change in the landscape, leaving the Pyrenean foothills for the rolling agricultural areas of central Navarre. The landscape at this time of year is a patchwork of young green wheat, vivid yellow oilseed rape, and latterly today, the muted greens and browns of olive groves and vineyards. Here goes with my photos of the day’s experiences.

Another super day on the trail ended for me with a short climb, westward from the river and opposite the town, to the Albergue Santiago Apostol, sited in a quiet location with views over the fields all around. I had done my exploring of Puente before heading out to the albergue, so after a shower I sat outside in the sun reading and writing for a pleasing hour or two. This is my first stay in an albergue on this route (having stayed in hotels in Bayonne and Pamplona, and in B&Bs elsewhere), and whilst more basic I was keen to partake of the companionship and camaraderie. The accommodation is similar to a youth hostel, with a collection of bunk beds in divided dormitories or small private rooms – I elected for the latter, for just a few additional Euros, and as part of the ‘pilgrim deal’ I enjoyed a communal three-course dinner, with wine (as well as breakfast to look forward to), in the company of a group of fellow travellers. The albergue has few guests this evening, and it must be a very different experience when things get busy later in the season. But for now, as a storm rolls in, an early night will follow a pleasant evening.

In signing off today I wanted to thank everyone for the numerous messages of support, and for following this Blog and commenting on it. Thank you also to Betty, who has identified my Day 2 ‘mystery flower’ – apparently it was a purple toothwort (lathraea clandestina). I have had a google, and it is quite an interesting plant: ‘purple toothwort grows in carpets of glossy, leafless flowers that appear in early spring. The plant is a parasite that has no photosynthetic parts and the richness of this display is afforded entirely from the resources of the host plant on which the toothwort feeds’.

‘The Windmills of Your Mind’ that I have adopted for today’s Blog heading is the title of a song by US lyricists Alan and Marilyn Bergman, set to music by French composer Michel Legrand. Originally recorded by English actor Noel Harrison in 1968, the number has been covered by, amongst many others, Dusty Springfield, Sting, and José Feliciano. The latter is Puerto Rican and, as a native Spanish-speaker, perhaps I should opt for his 1969 version on my Camino playlist. As for the song itself, the poetic lyrics use ‘stream-of-consciousness imagery to explore the cyclical nature of thoughts, memories, and the passage of time’. These words are not mine (I found them online, unattributed), but they sum up the song, and the lyrics seem to fit rather well with the ethos of this historic pilgrimage:

Round like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever spinning reel

Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turnin’
Running rings around the moon

Like a clock whose hands are sweepin’
Past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space

Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone

Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream

Like a clock whose hands are sweepin’
Past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space

Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that you said?

Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?

Pictures hangin’ in a hallway
And the fragment of a song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?

When you knew that it was over
You were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of his hair

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever spinning reel

As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind