Eleven.

By six yesterday evening I was overwhelmed with fatigue. It was the first day I've walked on a Camino path since August/September with any intention of doing more than a couple of days. Combined with little sleep for two nights, the hell of airports and the heavier than usual backpack I ground to a halt at the end of a chapter. Anna, who was heading to a Yoga class, called us to dinner at seven and I could hardly stifle a yawn the entire time.  Having hastily consumed a tasty curry I apologized to the other pilgrim - from near Zurich, Switzerland - for really needing to lay down.

Now it is just after five thirty and I think I'm a bit early for the hostess, but I am less absolutely tired and I've the dawn chorus to myself. Only day two as well: so how far will I meander today?

The other pilgrim, a retiree who also left Geneva Tuesday morning, is snoring in the room next to me. He complained about not being able to find anywhere to kip in Neydens, as the extra few kilometres to Beaumont pushed him beyond his endurance, and he wants a later breakfast to me: I wasn't very assertive with Anna as I'd really like to be breakfasting around six. There is some movement around with the other man and I must use the toilet.

Dawn is coming over the Massif which sits above Beaumont. I'll just get up and ready for whenever Anna arises. Perhaps I can tell my anxiety over walking in the afternoon to fly away as it is not summer with those sultry afternoons I've got to know, where walking can turn quickly into torture.

Yes I need to see things differently. Walking is no hassle for me - especially when the sun isn't so intense - but it maybe can get a little tedious rushing all the time. The first time I ever walked the Camino, from Le Puy, I really did break up the day and take time to let all the good vibes in. The Camino Frances, on the other hand, seemed to be a race. People were walking pre dawn and trying to be the first at the refuges because they wanted the first pick of a bed and because they knew by two or three it's simply too hot to go longer (unless you're local ie Spanish). I'd seen many people laying down for a siesta under the shade of a tree and just relaxing the whole way. Being British I feel I've never been taught to unwind, take it easy, just chill, soak it up, enjoy the moment. It's just so rush rush, flying around, never touching the ground. Today after breakfast I am going to worry less about being where I need to be by the end of the day (or try).

Fighting with the zipper on the sleeping bag am packed up for another day but I'm suddenly yawning uncontrollably and I feel a little dry on the back of my hands. It will pass.