Pilgrimage Pt.23.

Cerveza from a vending machine: a buck? Nice idea! San Miguel not so hot, but it is ok? Sat in the Jardin with Seanan playing scales; or is that another person? Cathal reads Mort in the sun and I have another blister on the same toe as on the Aubrac. Nana stretches her left leg in the shade. A couple of hours and I'm tired, but maybe also full of gay fever. Yep. My nose is gay, my eyes are gay and my throat is gayer too. Listening to the auberge I'm wakened from my drifting via Australian voices. Which is damn odd. I feel a kin of that voice. New Zealand too.

A homeless man I rewrite his worth. I substitute on for at. He lives 'on' the street ... What arrogance. Now he knows where he lives on Inglasis. Drops his pencil in the gutter. Drunk as a Skunk.

I think of all the ciders outside of the West Country Asturias is closest. Good truth. Apples. Sour. Cloudy.

Off back to sleep well. Really great being back on the way.

...

Mad Spaniards coming into the only place to get a coffee fix prior to 7am. I had an espresso I couldn't pay for. So I didn't. I fled as fast as my pack would allow, ducking into a ATM at Santander. The way was fairly gentle to begin, but eventually the random cobbled and dusty track, the distance and the time of day began to wear heavily. Usual bananas on the hoof and a stop for Coffee and Tortillas and you keep going if you want the race to be over by noon. Now in aubergue municipal Estella and time for that washing to be processed and time to flake out!

I thought I was flying when up ahead are the same Irish couple had already reached Lorca: where I had to stop for a couple of moments. Once I set off again for the final 7.5 kilometers my pace was turgid. I stopped to put on my shades and hat; from behind flew another warning. The devil of the Magrade Aubrac come to put me under strain; you'd played your tricks on me before so I hung back perfectly aware of his guile and cunning. None of your conveniently placed traps gave me any troubles. I have suffered you already. Go and chase another one back to hell; I'm on my own and happy to soldier on!

You can't book in advance and the sun bleeds you so it is a race from 6am to get to your bed for the evening. I stopped outside the parish auberge but passed up a donativo for this clean, but eventually busy large refugio.