We crossed the Arga on the way out of Puente la Reina. It would be the last time.
I pulled down my sunglasses and hung over the stone rail. My glasses dangled from a string around my neck. The flow below, like us, had run off the Pyrénées. Unlike us, its journey would end in the Mediterranean.
The bridge in Puenta la Reina has elegant lines.
The river unspools to the south, flanking the Pyrénées and gaining intensity from them. Eventually, it merges with the Ebro. The Ebro (the Greeks and Romans labeled it the Ibēr*), continues this southeastern run. In the end, the system nearly stalls and flattens out into a vast wetland. That wetland is one of the largest of the Western Mediterranean; it blossoms as a coastal promontory, halfway between Barcelona and Valencia. It’s 200 miles away from here as a bird flies.
My eyes drifted with the water. I’d like to see that delta one day. I hear the birding is terrific.**
The masonry bridge over the Arga is a medieval marvel. It has withstood the current for more than a thousand years. Massive footings support six arches that provide a passageway that is 110 meters long. “Windows” between the primary arches lighten the structure and allow water to pass through in flood season.
The view across the bridge from the gatehouse (left) and a view to one of the footings (right).
Those who study such things dub it “romanesque,” for reasons of style and origin. Romanesque structures are distinctly medieval and European. They feature circles and arches and emphasize strength and symmetry.
While other structures in the village are of note, this one bequeathed a name. Puente la Reina is “the Bridge of the Queen.” Construction of the 11th-century bridge was sponsored by Muniadona, wife of King Sancho III. Puente la Reina was a convergence point along the Camino Francés; no doubt the bottleneck offered a convenient point for collecting a toll, tax, or pontazgo.
There are four major routes or "streams" across France that feed the Camino de Santiago. Recognize that the site labeled here as Compostela is the same as Santiago de Compostela or simply Santiago. Image from here, accessed 6/27/2018.
Bob and I—like so many peregrinos before—crossed the bridge and continued west.
Despite our wretched hotel experience the night before, it was a glorious morning. The grainfields were soft and golden in the early light.
We passed through picturesque villages: Mañeru, Cirauqui, and Lorca. The influence of the Knights Templars was felt in each. But before the Templars, there were Romans. Finding the remains of their efforts at Cirauqui was my priority.
The village of Cirauqui is draped on a knob.
We found what we were looking for. The marked trail out of Cirauqui led us along the remains of a Roman road. Tik, tik, tik. Our walking sticks struck pavers that could have been laid in the early 2nd century AD. Maybe earlier. Large kerbstones formed the margins or edges, while smaller locking pavers created the roadway surface itself.
Truly ancient roadway exposures like this are rare, often because the routes chosen by the Roman engineers followed the best lines of communication and were therefore overbuilt by later generations.
The Roman road descended the hill of Cirauqui. At the base, it crossed a stream by means of a single arch more ancient than the Puente la Reina. Serious renovations were apparent, but one face of (what appeared to be) the original bridge was still visible. Heavy brush made a good photograph impossible for us.
This image of the bridge at Cirauqui was taken when the brush was less challenging. Stone colors, textures and lines make it clear that the bridge has seen several phases of repair. This photograph was found here (accessed 10/21/2021).
Bob and I marveled. We took pictures. And pressed on to Estella.
At some point along the journey, the white cliffs of the Sierra de Lóquiz rose on the horizon. The moving sun played upon the folds, suggesting the image of a fluttering ribbon. Only subsequently did I learn that this karstic feature is more than 13 miles long and has cliffs of more than a thousand feet in places.
We never got close to this fluttering ribbon, but it sure captured our attention.
The white cliffs of the Sierra de Lóquiz defined our horizon.
At last we cruised into the town of Estella. There we found a hostel operated by the Church of San Miguel. It was a lovely place with 22 bunks. We shared a meal of salad, tuna, and boiled eggs with four French travelers on a park bench in the courtyard.
¡Buen Camino!
The donativo is another type of lodging along the Camino. These are typically owned by the local diocese and are funded by gracious travelers. A donation box like this one is a place of payment.
*From the Ibēr (Ἴβηρ) springs the name Iberus or Iberian. The name is attached to the whole of modern Spain and Portugal, hence “Iberia” or the “Iberian Peninsula.” Some debate revolves around the question of whether the river gave its name to the residents or the residents gave their name to the people. See the article here (accessed 10/20/2021). Note also how Pliny the Elder (Natural History 3.3) views the Ebro as the centerline of the region.
**The Parque Natural del Delta del Ebro is one of the premier bird watching sites in all of Europe. It is home to many overwintering species and serves as a stopover for many migratory fowl. See the article here (accessed 10/19/2021).
With travel restrictions easing, we have a full slate of trips to the Bible Lands ready to launch in 2022. One departs New York for Israel on March 12 and returns on March 25. This high-energy study tour will move light and fast, so pack your hiking shoes! Walt Harper, professor from Central Christian College of the Bible and Jeff Snell from Johnson University will assist with teaching duties on this one. For more information click here or contact me at markziese@gmail.com.
