The Sun Also Rises

I woke at 6:30 a.m. to the sound of church bells and chanting monks, punctuated by a Dutch hospitalero ringing a small red bell to rouse any lingering sleepers across the floors. For €15, you get a bed, but not a late checkout—hospitaleros need time to reset nearly 200 bed spaces for the day’s incoming pilgrims. I was packed and out the door by 7:15 a.m., heading 14 miles southwest to Zubiri.

Leaving the monastery, I followed a dirt path running parallel to the main road toward Burguete. The air was alive with the chirping of birds, their songs echoing through the surrounding forests of oak and beech. The early morning light filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow on the path ahead.

This area holds a special place for me because of its prominence in Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. The Roncesvalles monastery gets a mention as the characters pass through en route to Burguete, one of the novel’s key settings. Hemingway visited at least twice to fish the Irati River for trout—in 1924 and again in 1925, just before Pamplona’s San Fermín festival, a century ago. The landscape likely looks much as it did then. Without Hemingway’s spotlight, Burguete might be best known for a grim 16th-century episode when five alleged witches were burned at the stake.

I reached Burguete around 8 a.m. and took a few photos of Hostal Burguete, the hotel where Hemingway, his wife, and friends stayed. I’d love to book his room on a future visit.

Leaving Burguete, I approached a barn full of cows. As I passed, one cow walked toward the fence, seemingly to meet me. I thought it might want head scratches, but it was only interested in the fresh water leaking from the rain gutter.

I didn’t linger—severe thunderstorms were forecast to start at noon, and I was determined to secure a bed at the Rio Arga Hostel in Zubiri, which overlooks the river and has been on my list of places to stay for years. I’d messaged the owners the night before for a reservation, but they requested my credit card number and expiration date via WhatsApp to confirm. Unwilling to share that information over chat, my best option was to arrive first.

I powered through the day, stopping only for water and to don a poncho during a brief period of drizzle. The terrain was mostly downhill, but carrying my pack made the minor uphill sections noticeable. I arrived in Zubiri at half past noon, crossed the 12th-century Gothic “Bridge of Rabies,” and entered Albergue Rio Arga Ibaia. I beat both the rain and the crowd, becoming the first to check in. The owner, Sabina, had me in a room overlooking the bridge and river in under five minutes. Hospitaleros could learn a thing or two from her.

Spain’s Saturday is like the American South’s Sunday—most places are closed from mid-afternoon until morning. After stowing my gear in a locker, and before businesses shuttered for the day, I walked a few blocks to Txatxoberri, a bakery, for a ham and cheese bocadillo, beer, and a chocolate croissant the size of my head. As I ate, the skies opened, and rain poured down. I dashed across the street to the town’s only grocer, grabbing beer and ingredients for Alfredo pasta for dinner, then sprinted three blocks back to the albergue to avoid getting soaked.

I’m haven’t decided where I’ll end up tomorrow, but I’m thinking of passing through Pamplona to a hostel in Cizur Manor, stopping only to grab a drink and a bite to eat at Café Iruña—one of Hemingway’s favorite haunts.

An audio version of The Sun Also Rises is available free on YouTube: