A rebel without a clue.

Two good Germans going the other way, Logroño to Pamplona, shared a slice of Domino's pizza. There were three slices left! That's the trinity in a pizza box? It was cold from last night - I prefer pizza the day after or cold so it was manna from heaven? Here in Logroño enjoying a glass of white Rioja in the capital of that DOC opposite the cathedral and reading the end of By An Unknown Disciple. A weariness is upon me. I must retreat to the albergue. Perhaps it's the heat of the afternoons since I left France? Maybe it's because I am without spirit and yearn to touch it as I once did?

Recreating is almost over. From tomorrow it's no longer following my feet from June 2013. From tomorrow it's Logroño to Burgos. Five days, if I don't return to Grañon for a second experience of that fantastic albergue above the iglesia (returning and recreating what never was nor could ever be). Last night, in the restaurant (which must've grown in size) I felt ill at ease with the group who seemed to be bragging about other walks. Bragging rights definitely come with being a twenty something and it makes for very bland dinner conversation. A German peregrino very tedious. I left as soon as I'd finished off the tart. The meal was fine. Coffee and croissant waiting for the day to show it's face. I am less inclined to walk in the predawn, but probably will. I appear to be walking with an Italian outfit since Puente la Reina and I am discovering their names slowly. They tend to spend their time together with another one from Brasil. This morning I listen to Swallow...

Out at 6 and nearly at Los Arcos. It's a pretty simple path, after the sun rose after 8. Before then I had a moon shadow to guide me along the white way. Just now came upon Russian Olive berries which are sugary and almost like a bonbon in sweetness. Quite a surprise and welcome relief from the straight street. I think I am confusing the stage between Estella and Torres del Rio and tomorrow Estella del Rio to Logroño. The most boring day is over. Tomorrow was a nice meander into Logroño where I caught the tail end of those stoned Yankee kids which made the Camino experience suddenly sour for me. But I left behind the cluster of kids and haven't seen their equivalent in this group who left SJPDP the day after me. It's in Torres del Rio where I had that fantastic supper with the Danish priest, living on a Norwegian island, and the father/daughter from Brittany. She drew portraits of the priest and I and then we laughed long into the night about my mispronunciation...

Once I thought 'it's always up over and then down into another river/stream/watering hole for bed' and that's all it is really, or like the New Zealander said the longest pub crawl on Earth. Today was short, and I was weary until I discovered Riesling, Semillon and Garnatxa Blanco. Now I ate prawns and mushrooms on a stick. Why did I do three days over two? I am stupid. It all feels surreal. Food, food then bed 

People are stiring and I feel mentally fatigued. I couldn't locate my teeth just now... but then I recall I left them where I always do! Then I cracked a joke, but in usual way I cleared the room! Toulouse? No to win! (perdre? non pour gagner!) As I am a day ahead of the pilgrims I set off with, from Saint Jean, I was forced to insinuate myself amongst the throng outside a bar, which I did, but I felt bad for leaving lose I left with behind. They will mostly be leaving Pamplona this morning? Enjoyed a pilgrim supper with Irish, New Zealanders, Deesider and Dutch. €23 for a vast amount of food - Bar Aloa. Puente is famous for its rojo pimento of which I ate a mountain of, on top of a bunch of garnaxa grapes... and I am strangely weepy. I apologised for snapping at the young lady who was concerned I may drink bad water ... I was being judgemental yesterday!

The joy of ripe rosehips. Where today? Heaven not hell Manufacturing in the valley Sore mill no excuse As an arrow, young, points ahead I ask if I don't move will it cease? Or walk-on not knowing And non-stop Pushed and pulled; apart Argued, not agreed Divided inside and outside When there is only within. *** Day three begins in earnest, after a proper scrambled egg, ham, cheese, yogurt, croissant, OJ and coffee(€6) with one bottle Vichy Catalan(€2): bliss! Leaving Pamplona which I don't recall from 2013 at all. But what day is it? It's now. But could also be considered Friday in Pamplona - which should be avoided as though the plague is sweeping the land and the four horsemen have full saddlebags. Nearing Puente La Reina and I recall nothing of passing here in 2013 and I probably wasn't here although my body, and a very heavy sack, was. Where my mind was is anyone's guess. A wee lassie from England said I would drink that water as I scooped to try a trickle from a ...

Another early awake for me. But there is nowhere to go ... and I don't know where next. I didn't yesterday after arriving either! It feels like a little piece of a jigsaw puzzle, so long looked for, has finally been rediscovered as the section of the Camino Frances between Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port and Roncesvalles is now in my memory as being accomplished. Previously I was forced, during winter, to use the other route when I was coming back from Pamplona to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port to complete that section of the Camino. I could leave all these newbies, or I could carry on to be around them as some of their conceits vanish and are replaced with another... it is a rites of passage for anyone the first time. In the night some persons definitely threw up. Either their supper, the beer, the wine or all. I hope it wasn't Song, the lad from Seoul I spent the an excellent supper with in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port and who seems to look up to me ... it's quite nice to be the village ...