A rebel without a clue.

Day two over. No room in the Inn up ahead in Xerta and the Ayuntamiento isn't open to help. Better a Hostal here in Tortosa than miles from nowhere with 34 degrees adding to the mixer? After many a minute trying to find anywhere around here in the Office de Tourism I am sent back the way I was struggling: after the Antic Pont del Ferrocarril I thought 'can I continue on if necessary'? Central Mercat, huge, so now have Garantxa and a plate of chorizo, jamon and tripa. I almost missed out Tortosa because I didn't want to detour on such a warm day if I had to carry on to Xerta. But I don't. Tomorrow I pass through it as i hit the more demanding section if I didn't just go on the GR99 instead of the Camino? Two short morning etapes. It's better physically and mentally. Tomorrow? That is a question mark... ... Where someone is grossly overweight it is all over the body. Fat fingers: clogged arteries. As I finish a second Garantxa I consider that tomorrow must be ...

Woken with a start in the wee hours: some consistent explosion - at first I thought someone was trying to break into the Alberg, then I assumed it was an intermittent firework, but on leaving it became clear it was crow scarers on the Delta. The forecast for today is playing with my mind: 33°C, but I am in the usual position drinking a second coffee before I consider departing earlier than expected. I could hang on until 8... But I've got to cling to the edge of the hope I can manage the distance without heat stroke. Started my day packing away the stuff I'd washed, folding clothes and repacking the sleeping bag I slept on: it was too warm for being in it: sod the mosquito risk. Walking up to the bridge which crosses the Ebro, the original one from 1921. There is little that a coffee, a patisserie and a glass of orange juice can't fix. Now in the usual place to get ready to depart once more! I've discovered I am layered in bites. And I was clearly sat below ...

Just managed to zone out from 4 until 5. Then hand washed some items. I've a fresh t-shirt on but, like the foods trays on the Death Star, it's wet - nothing worked that well on that monstrosity, including security, so would you trust the dishwashers? Now it is dry. Took seconds as I walked up to where there seems to be a plethora ofcars (bar next to a Repsol), definitely put-putting mopeds and none locals: who sound Polish, Lithuanian, Ukrainian or Russian... How does one choose from their 'voices' as it sounds just like someone speaking backwards? I usually take it from their bodies: I would say Polish? But I dare not ask. There is a politely turned out olive tree on the rotonda. Amposta is a fairly multicultural town: well there is a large Arab contingent, and several slogans warning against Muslims (written by Nazi Christians I suppose with the accompanying anti-Nazi anthesis (anti-fascists are the same pigs))? Be liberal and stop all this bickering! ***...