Gata Fiestas - No Bull!

After almost ten years visiting this part of Spain I've finally witnessed my first "running of the bulls"- not for the faint of heart and definitely not for the slow runner.

I was taken along to the small town of Gata de Gorgos about a mile and a half from Jesus Pobre. It was a warm evening and I'd made that fatal mistake of taking a shower before coming out. The sweat was pouring off me.

From what I've learnt from being here a fiesta is just an excuse for a massive piss-up - for a whole week. If that's the case some of the residents of this town were doing well to be standing, never mind contemplating running with the bulls.

The bull run in Gata is located along side the main railway line running towards Benidorm and Denia. Not much chance of a catastrophe with a wayward bovine though, the line is closed for nearly

Oh very brave - until those bulls come running

two years for repairs.Specially made pens are transported in with two uses. One, they are a safety barrier for the spectators and two the top deck is used for private parties. A sort of birds eye view of the carnage!

Of course this being Spain there are bars. The normal bars where the locals drink every day and a mobile bar set up by the fiesta organising committee to raise funds for the next year. You can walk across the street to drink in any of the bars as the cages have gaps that just allow a person through but hopefully prevent a bull from getting in.

A firecracker explodes and from my safe position in the cage I witness about thirty men legging it round the corner, looks of excitement and fear in their faces as they are quickly followed by six bulls. some head for the gaps in the cages, some move to the other side of the road and some are just plain stupid.

In the middle of the road are some obstacles to allow people to hide behind if things go wrong. Near to me was a trough, someone was in it but unfortunately for him so was one of the bulls. How he

"Follow me guys - these ones are marinated in alcohol

managed to survive is a mystery. The bull leaped into the trough, crushed the hapless wannabe bull fighter against the side and just as quickly jumped out to join the heard - amazing. The guy stumbled out of the trough with just a pair of bent spectacles to fix - not his whole body.

This run goes on for another three or four times, the locals getting braver as the drink is consumed. Next is the running of the cow. Groups of lads are now out in the middle of the road, taunting the cow by waving a coloured jacket or some other item of clothing. They gingerly keep their distance though, she has a massive set of sharp horns.

Eventually all the livestock is corralled in, a chance to walk around in safety and sample a few more beers - well, at one euro a bottle it would be rude not to.

The wait for the next run gets longer and longer until an announcement is made that the delay is due to the ambulance being out on a call. They can't run the bulls if there's no ambulance. That's it then, back home for us.

So, I've witnessed my first bull run and have got to say it was all well organised. There isn't any cruelty to be seen, the bulls look healthy enough and there were plenty of stewards around to keep

There's enough alcohol around to fuel the bravado of the meekest individual.

order. Okay, some of the younger guys of the town thought they were world famous bull fighters but it's amazing what drink can do to the brain. The livestock have a great life, they run around in the hills for most of their lives in comparative luxury, good animal husbandry is the key.

Of course this summer there have been a glut of accidents, some fatal, involving this sort of activity in Spain. There are many (some ex-pats) who despise the whole practise, that's their prerogative; what we have though is a centuries old tradition we in England would never really get. If it was to cease it would have to be the Spanish who put a stop to it - not us.