A rebel without a clue.

The path is the destination? No matter how much I look forward to the end of these physical difficulties I am sure that it is just 'the moment' which exists and I am just in this moment at the crossroads? It's like the Power of Now... Today I left the Albergue at 8 walked for around half an hour before I missed my turn so had to walk straight over planted, ploughed and fallow to join the Camino for an hour: but does it really matter where I am going or where I came from when I am just here without any conception my reality? It just rained torrentially all morning. It is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception this Thursday, thank you Spain, but my maths suggests that Jesus must've been born in August or he was literally like a sack of wind ready to blow in less than three weeks ... Logic says that the Roman feast/Christmas is just a superposition, but in a quantum universe no one knows where any two pintxos transects so perhaps this son of God is outside of physics and p...

Enforced hermitage isn't a bad thing. Here's me well rested, after deep dream filled sleep with no disturbances, of my own construction or exterior, but I am not 100% sure on my left foot. I am going to hobble the 10 kilometres to Santa María la Real de Nieva, get breakfast and then decide on what I should do: I will be on my way just prior to sunrise, around 8am. As the bar was locked up at seven thirty I turned in. My stomach rumbled a little without supper but a little enforced sobriety and fasting can only be a good thing to help cleanse the body which may help the foot pain ease? It was pretty chilly in Añe last night with clear skies above so I slept in the Longjohns I packed just incase I needed them coming through the Sistema Central: they are not my preferred pair (merino) which I couldn't locate while packing, but they're aimed at skiiers so they kept me blissfully unaware of the cold part of the Albergue: oh and the radiator works too and that, with a thick w...

First true Albergue of this outting and what a relief. Away from condescending bar staff who often fleece me at every opportunity - pig tails indeed - it's 99% bone and 1 percent skin, sure Lola would wolf it down, but then she's related to one (and I am sure she carries just one too many rat genes as she goes noising around). Back in the early 1980s what I recall was my first Chinese take-away experience included lots of bones, in batter, deep fried and called sweet and sour - inedible! Truly I love those people who cater to every possible need in their positions, but I am completely on my own with the usual surroundings of an Albergue. Simple and comfortable, and next door to the bar where the hostesses were very hospitable - I had no money, as I rarely draw any out these days because all the ATMs add a arbitrary charge, and they don't take bank cards but the younger señorita suggested I send them the cost of their excellent Menu del Dia and the evenings accommodation via...

My left foot is bad. And I am stopping before the suggested etapa/pause which is a little further up ahead after Añe. The bar is open and so is the Albergue. Really i need a 'half' day so at 2pm that's all this day: twenty three kilometres to a bowl of lentils, pork tenderloin etc... And at now filled up, unlike yesterday's day without respite. Different kind of relentlessness: Meseta... Am about to head for a well earned siesta. It was so warm on the plains I had to change into shorts on a crossroads, but I saw no devils awaiting!

Clambering up to the pass was kind of fun, and the turrón definitely kept me stepping, but the long come down to the ruin near to the road has put a great of pressure on the old war wound on the left foot. Not much further to go until the abysmal lameness sets in. Luckily no rain, just heavy mist going up. Afterwards a few breaks in the cloud and I could see the Meseta ahead. My pace now is trudging... The last few kilometres(10ish) was absolutely brutal on my foot, but now I am sat drinking Albariño and eating tapes pork tail, burnt paella which I specifically asked for (the rice which gets stuck on the pan - lush) and dinky pork sausages -  and watching the locals cheer on Spain against Morocco (0-0) and I am ravenous. But looking at the route today it looks quite some distance and I don't know if there is an Albergue open - the symbols on Gronze suggest not - and suddenly I am worried that the cost of accommodation is too much for much longer for me when I can't self cater e...

Pondering tomorrows ordeal: bought energy wayfarer fayre: higo secco ( la alpujarra granel ) 500 grams and turrón de Jijona de Alicante  300 grams. Plenty of energy and more weight to carry up those mountain paths in the blessful rain? At the Hostal I discovered a bath to ease the tiredness I felt from the day behind me. It wasn't so far, but I walked as fast as I was capable in the rain. My coat resisted the majority of the rain, but, as it always does with Páramo, it finds routes through the coat (usually on the shoulders and cuffs). Lunch was copious and I don't know if I can eat another solid meal, but can't set off tomorrow morning with an 'English' breakfast... in Spain? But this is a tourist town so somewhere may offer it? The final place ahead before I leave all hope behind is Casa Cirilo  and it's a bed and breakfast so it may offer me a copious breakfast - I should call them to inquire? 1% says eat pasta 99% says go to bed and eat breakfast in the morn...

At 1500 I am in room 19 @ Hostal La Maya after a very, very wet day. Luckily I stopped for a lovely sopa in Navacerrada served with the warm afternoon glow by the proprietor, cook and chica from Venezuela. She made me smile, they made me smile and the bean soup made me walk into the pulsating rain as the path took me up behind the town - I wasn't expecting that! Meson Jarvis, he was my English teacher back before university and the chica made walking in a sulking weightbound morning, with only suggestions of mountains, and me gathering rain enough to sink a ship, worthwhile. I'd looked into a posh establishment  once prior to it and felt cold stares - colder than the rain I'd gathered in several hours. Actually I sat down but the frowning cold shoulder of the people who  welcomed' me into Nava Real made me decide to trudge on in the downpour - they really couldn't care that I was soaking - they were more concerned I was dripping wet on the carpet. They almost failed...