A rebel without a clue.

Why does it look like two small boobs between Chanaz and Yenne. It felt more like mammoth tits. And coming down off the cliff below La Chapelle de St. Romain was manic. So I am in a Bistrot and I'm eating brawn and drinking some beautiful wine, but my fatigue has caught me up. Saved by a family way back up the hill. Picking me up she brings me back to massive bed. And now the afternoon has gone. Obviously I required the sleep I just had. Dinner is at seven thirty. I've still an hour and three quarters to chill in this luxurious double bed. Jean-Pierre and Josiane fed me, but I am still pretty fatigued. It's far warmer than I expected, so all my warm clothes are on my shoulders. Jean-Pierre says it's meant to snow a little next week so they're definitely necessary. The cliff I came down at Etain, before Yenne, helter-skelter, was energy sapping so the last hour I was pretty blind to anything other than getting this weight off my shoulders, sitting down, resting a...

It's all steep and I seriously need to make a large deposit not next to copious vines. Vin de Savoie. And break for a second bite of breakfast. Left overs from the evening meal. So I haste into the Mairie before I lose control of my bowels. There was a lot of food went in yesterday, which sustained me well, now it is heading back to the earth which created it. It's time to rest a moment. It's not far today at all. So I will relax in the sunshine outside the Mairie here in Jongieux and eat a little more of the Tommette de Savoie: rind and all, and set off again at ten.

Another day. Less distance to cover this one, though. Only 18.5kms. less than half yesterday's grind. The last leg along the Rhône was quite straight and uninteresting. But now I'm back up onto the ledges which run alongside the Rhône. Last night their cat, Gary - who turned out to be a girl, was curled up on my sleeping bag. She liked my smell, but not my vocabulary. Yorkshire is my native tongue, not Savoie. She let me ruffle her white fur and then promptly pissed off. The sunrises over my left shoulder as I head towards Yenne, with the Jura behind ... Jurassic rock, not The Jura. Brightly the birds command me to be calm today. The devil is at least two days behind my tail. And I hear there is one pilgrim ahead who set off from fucking Copenhagen (show off) how can he deal with being alone for months on end. Several days, maybe weeks is the most I can manage, but El Camino is very addictive. Time to pay attention to the road and the dogs who greet my passage.

Mucus, is it mucating. I'm an mucating a lot at the moment. Blowing my nose into the wind and wiping my fingers on the seat of my pants. What a way to live? Taking it on with me. Definitely changing clothes on the morrow. Sweating everywhere. Up and over, down, through and repeat. We'll talk about it later? Woodpecker hammering and grasses yearning; the season leaps into frame: bountiful spring. Long day. Worthy of some medal or an award. 35kms. Walking from just gone seven until after five. Obviously had a few breaks - four in fact. The part between Pont de Fier and Chanaz was flat and straight. Which is why it was possible. If the hills of the morning had kept on I'd be dead, fallen in a ditch with crosses where my eyes should be. The hosts are great they've given me something more valuable than anything: a beer, a shower, the possibility of laundry and another beer. Then sausage and potatoes for this evening. See them later. I must finish this La Goudale and switc...

It is better. Being alone to recover a weary body. So fatigued yesterday, but had that inability to relax properly. Some tension and anxiety was in my mind. The usual questions. Why am I flogging myself like this? For which I will never have an answer. Perhaps for the hell of it? Or to prove I am not a complete waste of flesh, blood and bone? By seven I will have crouched on the hole in the floor and then I will meander into the valley and, maybe, away from the relentless Bisse? It's definitely behind me now. The town clock struck the quarters and the offices of the day until about eleven, but at that point I was drifting delirious into sleep. Later in the night a muscle at the back of my head decided to spasm. But I think I've had eight plus hours to recover. The Zurich guy I've left behind. His sad visage was not helping my tiredness. I'm thankful I didn't have him in the double bed and don't have the steep incline to Chaumont to deal with. Day three!

Stopped for a snack at Charly now have four hours walking to reach Chamont. The Gîte communal was open. So I took a credencial stamp and a couple of 25cl Kronenbourg. Back on the way as the wind picks up again. More of a country way today, this morning. Drovers path heading north west and mostly up. My food ran out as I froze solid on a picnic table, on a cross roads before heading on a muddy track into a forest. After a bit of trying to hide away from the stiff Bisse I thought better, so continued on, eating the remainder of the Emmental and drinking both of the petite beers. There weren't any shops, banks, boulangerie at all and, although I'm finally horizontal, the last few kilometres were very steep and totally exhausting. The Gîte is simple, but I'm on my own today which isn't really a bad thing. The toilet is outside and below here, and it's one of those toilets you crouch down on. Haven't seen one of them in ages. Quite funny really - squatting is pret...

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 kilometre...