Bull Run Pamplona

Ginge Fullen

July 1993.

On 6 July 1993 I travelled out to Pamplona in Spain to do something I'd wanted to do for a few years: the Bull Run.

This notorious event takes place on the 7th day of the 7th month and for the last few years at 0800 instead of the usual 0700. It takes place in the small town of Pamplona in Northern Spain which during the ensuing week becomes the party town of Europe.

The run itself is less than one mile long before you run through Death Alley and into the bull ring. Death Alley is aptly named as this is a big bottleneck of people and, of course, at some point of running bulls. Most of the deaths that have occurred have happened here, so it doesn't take the brain of Einstein to realise that the one place not to be in the world during the Bull Run is in Death Alley, but more of that later.

It's wise to walk the route the evening before, although there is only one obvious way to go during the run; that's getting swept along in the mass of highly distressed people. It is nice though to have some escape routes planned if the going gets really hot.

A lot of people run to the barred windows or deep-set doorways and get in a position to watch all the fun as the bulls run past them. This is not a bad idea for your first run just so you get into the swing of things. Although remember that ideal window ledge you saw the evening before may already be crammed with several other people who had the same idea but who were quicker. This could be very disappointing to say the least.

People start gathering for the run as early as 7 o'clock in the morning, queuing from right in front of the gates of the holding pen of the bulls to nearly 200 metres up to the Town Hall, depending on how brave they feel.

At seven thirty a line of police walk back from about 100 metres past the Town Hall and push all the runners back to the start line. Anybody on the wrong side of them (depending on how you look at it) or arriving late will not be let through, or be allowed onto the street to run, so it's vital that you arrive early.

The half-hour wait gives you time to contemplate was this really such a good idea. There is no backing out now though as by this stage you couldn't even fall over given the mass of people. So there you are watching the Town Hall clock ticking toward 8 o'clock, wearing your red scarf and red matador's hat and wielding your rolled up newspaper. That's right, the only weapon you're allowed is a rolled up newspaper to hit the bull with should you care to get that close. This seems like rather fragile odds to me, but you will be surprised, it does give you the tiniest bit of confidence. It may be something to do with being an Englishman knowing you will die fighting to the very end brandishing a copy of the day's Sun newspaper.

Around 0755 people start chanting, the atmosphere is electric. You are at the height of your senses going through what you will do when the bulls are released. You know the window you're going to climb up to, you practice the hand and foot positions that you need to get up there in your mind. You even convince yourself that you'd beat Chris Bonnington up there.

The other way to do it is run as fast as you can and get into the bullring and out again before the bulls arrive. This is also an option for your first day - you might not even see any bulls but at least you've done the Bull Run. Although I would say that you need at least one close contact to have really done it.

Back to the present, the Mayor of Pamplona and his entourage are out on the balcony of the Town Hall, waving you on and probably thinking he has the entire population of lunatics from Europe, even the world, here in his town this week.

The time of reckoning draws close, you really have to control yourself not to panic. Your pulse quickens, you start to sweat slightly. This is what you have been looking for, this is the adrenaline rush. Can you control it? Somebody could die today; you don't expect it to be you.

At 0800 exactly, a bell rings once. This tells you the gates are open to the holding pen, the bulls are free to run; the police line holding you back disappears through the barriers and the crowd runs surely as if their lives depended on it.

You have to fight to stay standing, falling over here would mean trouble. Listen for the second bell which should be within seconds of the first, this tells you that all the bulls are out and running. If the second bell is several seconds later then there may be two groups of bulls, some late out of the pen. People have seen several bulls go past them, jump down from the safe positions into the street thanking God they are alive, only to be clobbered from behind from the second group.

You run through the narrow streets, people are leaning out of windows and over barriers shouting you on. This feels good and then you approach Death Alley, the final 60 feet or so into the bullring.

The bulls move fast, very fast. The whole event is over within minutes. This means if you have been back in the crowd or have been moving slowly and then arrive at Death Alley without any bulls having passed you, you have to make a decision - that is whether or not to go through Death Alley and hope the bulls don't catch you in the middle or to wait and let them go through and then follow them. Either choice is not good - hanging out just outside the Alley is also not the ideal place to be.

The situation is desperate but not totally hopeless. Inside the Alley very low down are holes not unlike coffins in which you are able to roll into should the need arise. If you know they are there it could save your life. Whatever you decide it's a refreshing feeling to reach the other side. It will probably be the fastest 60 feet you'll ever run.

Entering the bullring is an awesome experience, one of those moments you'll never forget. Every seat is filled and everybody is cheering. Get to the sides of the arena instantly and watch the six to eight bulls run past and hopefully straight on out the other side. You've done it; you have been to the gates of hell, opened the door and had a good look inside.

The run is over so quickly that everybody is milling around in the ring thinking is that all there was to it? Then they let a small bull into the ring. By saying small I mean a slight 500lbs or so. That's when the real fun begins.

There must be over 200 people crammed in the bullring so the bull has got lots of targets. It must be a bit like ten pin bowling for the bull, but with hundreds of people and dozens more chances.

You try and keep an eye on the bull as it runs around bowling people over. It helps if you are tall as you can see over the crowd toward the bull and decide early when and what direction to run. At 5' 6", I would not say that I am gifted in the height department, so the time did come when the crowd dispersed in front of me and I was left with a very good view of a bull charging towards me.

Well it had to happen to me sometime. I had been getting braver and braver, but this close to the bull was not the time to be brave. I turned around and tried side stepping the bull. It was a good side step but the bull's was better. I was head butted in the backside very hard. I lost all sense of direction and space as I was lifted up and sent sprawling in the dust of the arena.

Before the bull managed to locate my backside again, some locals, and I'm sure some undercover matadors, stepped in and drew the bull away. For my part I got a big round of applause and cheers and duly took my bow. It was well worth it, I had my war wound - a cut and grazed knee and torn trousers - to show for my ordeal. The rolled up newspaper seemed rather futile after that.

After a time when the young bull starts getting tired, they bring the biggest and most harmless bull that I have ever seen into the arena. Its job is to herd the young bull out of the ring, a job it does very well and has been doing for years, I suppose.

Just as you think it couldn't get any worse, they then let two bulls out at the same time. This has a devastating outcome. Keeping your eyes on one bull is difficult enough, but two is nearly impossible. In my opinion it makes for twice the fun.

One tip is to stay in the centre of the ring so that if you are hit, at least you just bounce along the ground. Unusually a person died in the ring on the first day by one of the small bulls, he got caught between the barrier and a bull at full speed.

The bulls that run through the street are all killed that evening at the bullfight. I saw this on the first night. I am all for a good fight, but this is totally one-sided. These magnificent animals are run into total exhaustion until they can hardly stand, and then all too easily killed. I find this a very sad end to such a fine beast.

People also are killed some years but depending on just how near you want to get to the action you keep alert and lucky, the chances are you will just have a good time.

The Bull Run is a different ball game to any other. No matter how quick, strong or clever you are it remains that the main player of the sport is a 1200lb bull; or to make matters worse, several bulls all with minds of their own. These of course can have fatal consequences. This is what gives the Bull Run what very few other sports can give, the true fear factor, something totally out of your control. This is the fear you have been looking for.

You train your body, you train your mind; I am a firm believer you can train for fear. The first time you do it you may fear it, the second time you may enjoy it, the third time you may not care about it at all. That is when things become most dangerous.

Once you have done something like the Bull Run you look at yourself and realise that you did not die, that you are still very much alive. This fact is rather quite pleasing, and you really appreciate just being alive. I don't do these things because I want to try and die, I do them because I want to live, to live more than anybody else does. Don't get me wrong I get scared also, the only difference is that I like it!