Running with the Bulls: My First Time

I’ve run with the bulls of Pamplona three times in my life. The third run was in 2009 and that’s the run that I describe in detail in my book. (With a title like “Bands, Bulls, and London,” you knew the bulls were going to show up eventually…)

But today, I’ll describe the first time I ran. I didn’t get far…

I was traveling alone around France and Spain in the summer of 2001 and just making travel decisions as I went along. I always like a loose itinerary so I can change my mind at anytime and follow what looks interesting.

The San Fermin Festival in Pamplona was about to start so I went to the Barcelona train station to make my arrangements. But all the trains to Pamplona were full for the next few days. What?!

Pacing around the station and contemplating my next move I ran into a small group of Australians. They had just come from the airport and reported the same thing. No planes and no trains to Pamplona. What do we do now?

Within minutes of talking to them, we came up with a plan. We’d rent a car and drive together. I was the only one with a credit card so they needed me. They also had arranged accommodations outside Pamplona in a small town called Zarutz. So I needed them.

When we arrived in Zarutz, it was a glorified campground. I had my own tent – but I suddenly buy my own sleeping bag and my own mat. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers, so I stayed. Plus I already knew the four Australians.

The beauty of this arrangement was that the British company that ran the campsite would daily pack us in school buses and drive us into Pamplona. Then drive us home in the afternoon or evening.

Soooo… on the morning of July 7th, the bus horns woke us all up at 5am sharp. We then had fifteen minutes to get on board for the day’s events. Miss the bus, you’re on your own in Zarutz (a perfectly pleasant town with many good pubs, by the way).

When we arrived in Pamplona, no one was in charge so we all walked around  without a guide and without any instructions. I suggested we just follow the people who were marching into the town square.

After much confusion, we all found ourselves in the right place: behind a line of policemen on Calle de la Estafeta.

At 7:45, the policemen released the line and you could stand anywhere you wanted on the course. Those who didn’t run watched us from behind wooden barriers in the street or crowded the apartment balconies overhead.

At 8:00, a rocket blast from the corral signaled that the gates were open.

At 8:02, another rocket blast signaled that all the bulls had left the corral and were now running in the streets.

Now you had a choice to make: run like hell and get into the bullring ahead of the bulls. Or wait around for the bulls to catch up so that you actually ran with the bulls.

I waited around. I even had a disposable camera in my hand to capture the moment.

The trouble is… I was standing too close to the front of the course. Bulls can outrun men so I had little chance of completing the course before they closed the doors of the bullring. That’s the ultimate goal: run with the bulls and follow them into the bullring.

Within seconds, the bulls were turning the corner and running straight for us! I foolishly tried to take a picture… and dropped my camera. I, even more foolishly, tried to pick it up off the ground.

Suddenly, a man screamed in my ear, “Leave it!!!” and he pulled me back into the crowd of runners cowered against the wooden barricade. I was only standing on one leg now while my other leg was resting on another man’s back – as the bulls and steers thundered past us!

The run for me was essentially over. Sure, I ran after the bulls, but they were now too far ahead and the street was jammed with other disappointed runners. By the time I got to the end of the course, the bullring door was closed.

So back to the buses. And back to Zarutz.

Fortunately, we were coming back to Pamplona the following day. So the next day, I had a better plan: I was going to stand in the middle of the course and I was going to tape another disposable camera to my hand.

Both worked out brilliantly. But that’s a story for another time…
 
For more extreme adventures, check out:

https://www.johnmeyerbooks.com/parklife-in-toronto/

https://www.johnmeyerbooks.com/walk-for-the-ages/