A rebel without a clue.

Azurely assuredly a day for walking the shortest route possible. Slept deep yet woke up terribly exhausted. Yesterday was all round too tough so aiming for Betanzos, which is just over one tremendous hill and no more. Breakfast is essentially necessary now! Finding a cafe as succeedingly provisioned again might be unlikely. There is a comforting under floor heating this morning yet still no hot water! Linda has sun stroke or dehyration so we breakfast and I depart with two juicy figs and pass through a smokey trough over the bay looking for a clear sign I am on the Camino. After an up at the heaven climb I hit the top and passage of barking dogs cheering me onwards and eventually chetch and choing smoking house or a saxophone for a maximum blower. To walk alone. Pact of suicide dogs as I trundled through con/sin Gas. U know I sin con Gas! I sinned not; on only two occasions I have been requested to prove my identity: once buying a BigMac in Ferrol and just now in Miño buying sil...

The old man didn't stay he was just looking to keep his metaphysics warm. Linda and I shot up to the Bar Excelsior for a little picho and a glass of vino for Linda and Sidra from moi then I ordered a meal; which indeed arrived as two! There was me thinking I had only asked for a side salad, not a main meal, to go with spicy pork and chips. You don't need a McDonald's at 3pm and have another full helping around 7pm. Tomorrow I maybe have to wait a while for breakfast. The Portuguese mother daughter combo have gone to wait the songs of Spain's fiesta while I read Jack traveling back across west with Moriety hot on his heels. I wish I had the balls to just to make split second leaps or knew how I could survive without the solidity of back up finances. Simply I'm tepid not distinctly warm: even now there could be fun tonight, but I've removed my body from direct assault; I want to be shielded from the night and be ready for breakfast. Age is a state of mind. I suppo...

9:55am A Coruña €13.30, 12:30pm Ferrol €7.20 and most of my emerging mental problems are resolved as we disappeared to the North; two legs. Ferrol is a modern sea port with very little to dream about. Once I found the Spanish square and a helpful man I was set on a journey to discover a place to rest down for the night, clean my dirties and relax ahead of the next five days; I expect to arrive on Friday properly mentally accordant and receive my compostele. The fiesta concludes tonight and tomorrow is a bank holiday in Spain. This long weekend of revisions and decisions over the longest days of 2013 I have arrived in Neda and may be ready for what will be my final week of pilgrimage in Spain; I plan to get back the cheapest option after a strenous week free of crowds. There are currently 8 in an auberge 28; if the numbers stay the same yippee we start Monday perfectly. But a confused old man!?! Always a confused old man! I leave him looking for his credentials ... They ...

The distant noises of the summer solstice celebration came back over the hill and woke me from my deeply comfortable sleep. Something good sang me to sleep at just gone ten and so I missed another youthful celebration: I would've danced the fandango in my lean and handsome years with the same enthusiasm and freedom that conquering the Aubrac meant to me now. Age is conquering me. This is not the end, but it is perhaps the beginning of the end? Camino Inglés today. Five days from Monday to Santiago de Compostella to earn my Compostele. Some other way is calling me.

My most recent conversation back to the UK makes it clear that I'm just about right to return to sunny blighty for a little while. I'm feeling utterly tired and, even though my feet feel better, one night's sleep without others snoring, etc I'm exactly knackered. The short walk to Cape Finisterre felt indecisive. My mind wasn't of subject; I caught myself worrying a little about what to do now? A walk on ferry might be potentially cheapest from Santander if I head up to A Coruna. Something is telling me to walk home from Cornwall. Rome feel a crazy concept with the currently saggy tired eyed me. I said I would get there to meet Jason in July which I would do still if I found a cheap means of staying there too. The end of the world was a great place to conclude the ninth chapter and recall all the fantastic food, wine and the cast of thousands I met across Europe. Some point has been reached in my head and tomorrow I'm heading north and towards the sights and sm...

Ever since Cahors a theory has developed I found my freedom in the terrors the way found for me between Puy and Aubrac. Something singular and significantly pastoral. Just a tidy seventeen kilometres today. Puts me at two stages beyond the Canadian devil. Stopping - Finished for today. Donativo 3 on the bounce. In a wilderness of persons I escaped alive and with wit. Busy bee. Couple of beers with Daniel from Barcelona; father Liverpool and mother Catalan. After popping to the supermecardo cooked a paella with red peppers, onions, rice, chorizo picante, pancetta, white wine, herbs provence, salt. Sat down with a stick of bread and el coto crianza 2008. Legendary supper. Shared the fayre with 5 others. I hardly know their names. Did a meal unlike Wednesday night. Not lacking depth and textures. Great Vino makes a significant difference. Helene, one of our hosts, enjoyed the supper while Pierre emphasises the need to donate €7. I was hoping you weren't a vegan and doesn't drin...

Tried to pay my Orange account, but I am unable. Usual paper self rearing it's head mid to late in the month. One bit of administration for June/July. Hope my family can help me in the UK? I know I must overcome this feeling of being alone amongst a legion of Pelegrinos. What kind of goal is being lost like a silent voice in the choir of disorganized cacophony. I am not alone thinking the young 'pelegrino' are crazy. I collected my micro towel. I will breakfast and away. I dreamt a few days ago about JFK coming to visit me and a friend. I tried to warn him of his fate, but he wouldn't listen. This was in Pamplona. It is possible this was a warning to me that my way would become my mental assassination. I should have listened to Serge in Cahors. I understood so little around that table, but word of the road Primativo cropped up every night of the four I camped out. I am not on the Way because of a Movie! I am laid out on my floor for the night; which is fine, but the ...