A rebel without a clue.

Depression is bizarre. Just like that I feel overwhelmed. The world I am walking through is so supreme. It's a rare sight to see early on a Monday morning, but something paralyzes me. The thing I feel haunting my steps and putting me back once more. Today I must focus away from the repetition of the hoodwinking mood! Let it drift away. There are dark clouds to the north and they are enhancing my feelings! Now the destination is reached it seems much too short a journey: I arrived just around noon. There are towns further up the pass, however there are no Halte Saint-Jacques. But maybe that's for the best? I see there is a Chambre d'hôtes up that long road at €40. Some days it's Donativo and other days you get something better? My budget is around right for today, but I don't think stopping here at noon is quite enough. Perhaps I'm addicted, or it's a habit, to carry on until the later parts of the afternoon? It'll be up, but this is piémont du Pyrénées ...

No my brain doesn't work today! It's impossible to switch into French mode! That's beer, but it's not the end of the world as the couple understand one too many beers. It's a hazard of towns on a Saturday during harvest season in France: they like to celebrate all weekend: and this is fair. It's going to be a hot one! I must depart shortly. Once my bowels have had their say! Walked all day, except for two brief "snack" breaks. Now having a sablé biscuit and hair of the dog! I'm tired beyond words. Why is it 31°C at the end of September. Break weather... Cool off please. Not a cloud in the sky. Luckily from noon it was not relentlessly up; calm down and not sadistically up. The Halte Saint-Jacques is next to the Cathedral, but I think I'm very early to get in. It says 6pm on the Office de Tourisme door. That's fine! I'm in the shade of the Linden tree here. The rest may wait! The custodian tells me I've an hour to wait before the pe...

Some Huguenots came from this part of France and they were persecuted for their beliefs. Why did those Catholic kings, queens and clergy feel so threatened by another voice? They felt they were unstoppable and supreme and were clearly willing to kill Christians in the name of Christ: such hypocrisy seems rife in France, Spain and Catholicism. No one really knows the true message Jesus was trying to preach. From the point of an Atheist, Agonistic, Deist, etc, it's all convoluted? Except perhaps the sermon on the mount. He was inspired to denegeate those who claim superiority through power, etc. Yet this "church" thing is obviously a fake in the sense of rituals, laws, constructs as a church exists within and not outside. A body holds it all because it's the mind which is the root. The stone buildings and the reliquaries are faux on every level. They won't let you in if you don't bend low and in a sinister way you are not worthy. Except I bet mosquitoes still bi...

A good night's sleep in this accueil pèlerin, on my own, with silence after eight: I was out in seconds, woke up around 2 with that nattering noise, but it wasn't a mosquito for a change, and headed back to lala land until 6. Fine breakfast, but only a small portion of coffee alloted. I've nowhere to stop at all before Mas d-Azil so I had to locate the well hidden grounds! This morning I left a Donativo, which means that's all the money I've got on me. The destination has all services so I'll start on the daily allowance again there - €35. Sunrise at 7:47 and the nights are drawing in: maybe the weather will cool a little in the middle of the day so I don't feel so bound to collapse? Cloudy as I leave the acceuil pèlerin up either side of the valley stags are groaning and braying. In the valley the sheep bleet, and one clearly coughs like she's on sixty a day. This morning I'm following the way exactly. Another 20 kilometres until I reach Mas d'...

While I am blowing bubbles out my nose, I need to blow (into the ether goes this slime as I shake it into the wind) it's Friday! No forgetting today! That'd be insane! That was a tough stretch from Pamier. Intense at first up to Saint Victor. Just up into the hills. A halt then up on a forestry road to the top before a huge descent into Montégut Plantaurel. The couple looking out for pilgrims are on holiday - fuck. I'm taken in by a "wine" maker who I think makes herb wines, etc. They've had to nip out and I need to rest! Rest I did until mosquitoes came to rest on me like U2 spy planes. The acceuil pèlerin across the street is open, but vacant. Where am I to stay away from the evil bastards who operate over enemy territory during the day! If they are away does it mean I'll have hang about in this "Breuvages de Pyréne" Cave where I think the kids have been left to devastate the habitation while their parents are away? Bloody tiger mosquitoes: a...

Fresh underwear is a revelation, but the time had surely come? A decent night's sleep with some intense dreaming. Feature length dreams fueled by the cheese course at each French meal. Last night's acceuil du pèlerin was a disused railway station. For the remoteness of place it was massive. Look at the Pyrenees to the south: mighty, yet serene. Unhurried they are still moving pushing up the land behind: a force in nature beyond our wildest misunderstanding. Now I head due west on the disused railway line in Pamier for around nine? Tragedy has befallen me! The ever reliable fork, knife and spoon set I was presented with in HMP Wealston are now two or three days behind me. Now I've no cutlery to eat this tin of lentils I've been carrying since then! Oh the humanity.

Laundry done. No more body odour driving folks away: as though I meet anyone while I am pouring with sweat! The main reason I walk is for the solitude which brings back to me a feeling of gentleness and warmth. Dwelling on the past or worrying about what's next vanish for a few moments and I don't know what the problem is. Occasionally I reach a plateau of calm and all tension dissipates, being in the moment is something satisfying but very hard to convey. This is perhaps because any words used to describe it aren't it. The times I meditate at home or at my mum's are the same. For a few minutes, perhaps a couple of hours, nothing is distressing me. The voice of doubt is silent. On a couple of occasions I've forgotten everything; however this becomes a little startling and panic settles in quickly. Only once did I reject the panic and let anything vanish; it seemed that this was the end of it all, yet something dragged me back. Repase smells wonderful and last nigh...