Cercal do Alentejo to Leeds

Oranges are not the only fruit, but when one falls from the tree directly in front of me, cracks itself open and tastes so luxurious just as the Igreja struck oito, why shouldn't they be?

Coming to the first village I was hopeful of a true coffee. 10am and the taberna was just opening. Three welcoming dogs, one mumbling patron and one happier peregrino I carry on to what maybe was an old monastery on the crest of hill ... Aldeia dos Elvas.

This morning I've eaten the remainder of the Portuguese Christmas cake (bolo Rei) which I purchased in Almodôvar for 5€. Full of nuts, fruit and other goodies ... It's keeping me going!

Away to my right a bull roars, bellowing with all its larynx can bear, and it's the warmest morning so far on this el Camino...

Although I have been on my own for seven solid days walking, and only had locals as background noise, the voices from the past still manage to stir up a hornets hive so that a beautifully sunny morning has been scraped clean of meat, muscle and sinew and left bone sore. And a horse fly landed on my neck and drank deeply of the veins the dogs are baying for before I noticed as my mind wasn't in the present! I called Glenn to help me absent a voice I hardly know anymore but still seems to rattle my crib so violently whenever we cross paths (and doesn't matter)!

Head up my arse, and a crouching dog in the tall grass ready to pounce, sent me the wrong way 500 metres! And I needed that reminder to get my head out from up it and to stop me putting vicious dogs waiting crouching in the grass! The ego is like a dog who barks at a passer by, but it's only ever barking at itself. Final village. Final pilgrims lunch? Third house on the main route and it's bean stew, black pudding, chorizo and cuttlefish... Bliss! No worries. That mistake brought me back to el Camino as I walked through the Cork Oak woodland off that beaten track

***

The final day ended with that fine plate of beans with chorizo, black pudding and cuttlefish in Cafe Cigarrinho

and I couldn't pay all the 10€ as I only had 8€ left. Luckily I only had one coffee back in the first hamlet(Aldeia dos Elvas) otherwise I'd have struggled to find any pot to wee in... But then I had to get myself south so I might be better off reaching Faro Airport by 2:30 pm tomorrow. So I began walking to hitchhike to Odemira. A Dutch guy picked me up after 5 kilometres, and we passed Vale da Santiago (which means I got to 'a' Santiago again) and he left me at the roundabout just after.

Nothing was happening on the way to Odemira (one German girl who wasn't quite sure where she was heading and was too 'distracting' for sure!) so I took another route and directly I got taken to Colos, on the way to Cercal do Alentejo, but then I got to Colos (having found a guest house in Cercal - Solar do Alentejo) and no one would take me the short 20 clicks for 2 hours. Just as I was about to call 'taxi' three hoons in a souped up Holden Commodore (not actually, but you understand) and it was a rollercoaster to Cercal. I'd never had to hitch in the dark before... I laughed my head off at the guy who drives just like an old mate in England... Like he wants to be a F1 driver and now I am in another town on another Caminho Portugues (Atlantic) from Castro Verde (I only saw one set of yellow arrows out of that town). Now I am beer-ed(2) and showered beneath white linen in a non-damp room again (35€ Solar do Alentejo) - the 'cottage' in the campsite - Quinta da Cerca was damp ... And the water was super hard and the soap didn't lather ...

Wish me luck getting to Faro Airport for a 16.55pm flight from very distant Alentejo!

***

This morning I discovered that there is a bus to Ourique at 7:15am and then a Rede Expressos at 11 towards Faro. So it's all good. Hitch-hiking is fine when time is at my disposal? But I don't trust myself to arrive at the correct time for the Ryanair flight to Leeds Bradford Airport... Even if it doesn't leave until around 5pm... No hubris today thankyou!

On another occasion when I decided to get off the train early near to Mulhouse/Basel airport I ended up stuck behind a tall barbwire fence between a corner of France and the airport, in an enclave if Switzerland, which gave me seconds to reach the check in prior to being stuck in France during 2020 summer and the difficulty of COVID accommodation and transportation. I saw my salvation by an underpass as there was a slight chink in the armour if I climbed a steep embankment and walked on the outside of the bridge... Without being arrested as an illegal gaining entry to Switzerland... It was a great escape! But it taught me lesson.

Just like the time, leaving Elterwater, I decided to find my own way onto the Fells at Chapel Stile and got stuck on a near vertical scree which wasn't anywhere near the green track the OS offered (prior to Smartphone accuracy) so had to slide on my arse and hope that the drop into the brook below wasn't so far and I didn't break my hips, legs, knees and ankles in the process! I stopped with legs dangling in midair and a way back the way I'd come! It was a lesson learned.

And another time walking out on Le Chemin Saint Jacques from Vinça in a downpour, a failure to see the moss growing heavily on a boulder and going head over heels into the, thankfully, water free gully only to be wedged, like a beetle with feet kicking, and a few broken ribs laughing at my fortune - I was going up the side of one of the Piémont Pyréneen a few days into the voie from Perpignan. As I replaced the soles of the Altberg Nordcap it was a lesson learned...

Have I got into any difficulties on this 7 days from Faro to yesterday's bail out in that minute village? Fornalhas Velhas... No, but the fly which just got zapped in the flytrap here in Café Perala just did! I guess the true difficulty came as I hit the plains after Santa Cruz and until I reached that damn little hamlet on a road to nowhere... The demons of yesterday gone. Good solid night's kip in the guest house (an only slightly damp 35€) - I am guessing because the weather is so dry most of the year no one really notices the damp when there is no one using the room... No complaints I mean (although their was a dehumidifier in the bathroom).

With my back to the continual 1990s pop music videos - which is the glue on which the other patrons fix their gaze, but I too was drawn by Daddy Cool as it struck a chord with its funkiness! Reflections. A rare occurrence. No hangover. Only once since I set off on el Camino - leaving Castro Verde - and sleep deprivation in Faro thanks to Brian and the night guy!

On the 2nd of 6 stages back to the flat in time for Leeds City Council contract operatives to come and install the new heating and water system tomorrow morning, removing those ancient storage heaters (of which I have used one once as they're pretty pointless on the 11th east facing floor with heat rising, large windows and the availability of jumpers if I feel any cold). The benefits of instant hot water will be a boon as I have currently to heat a whole tank on economy 7 and hope I don't use it all on the bath I like to have when I am around and being clean! Thank you LCC...When I walk I only ever conflict with myself. When I return I feel the eyes on me and it sparks a response. Andy was 'following' me I felt yesterday. I saw him with Lola twice and also once first thing, when I grabbed a coffee from Caffe Nero, and once when I collected some groceries from Sainsbury's - a total of four occasions(and I still having nothing to say to him)! He watches people pass by his mother's window on Crossley Street, Wetherby. Then I saw Tony only once and he was gibbering to himself on the other side of North Street as I returned with Lola, after our brief second walk through Sandringham Park, Raby Park and down to the Wharfe and bridge... She was having a great time finding all the various dropped titbits.

Both Andy and Tony put me on edge. I have nothing to say to either of them, Andy talks 'at' me (always about what film he's going to see at the cinema next to his mother's) and Tony mutters his mad soliloquy - speaking in tongues. It's hilarious. I time their occurrence as I re-enter Wetherby and I come off the path and rejoin the roundabout.

Wetherby: the centre of the universe and microcosm of England. All it's problems are very vividly on show. As I see the boarded up properties, vacant lots, discarded food and/or wrappings, plastic bags, take-away drink containers and vacant stares - people who never think to say a Bonjour, at all; fear of the foreigner, outsider, outlier or something else. Backs to the wall and pushed into a corner. Covered in tattoos, jewelry, dyed hair and subcutaneous fat and wary. What am I looking for here?