A rebel without a clue.

Staying in a communal municipal albergue is always a test for me. It's not the bodies I guess? Although it might be going from a personal solo peregination to a cluster of egos fighting to be the head boy and head girl in a pursuit I have very much outgrown. Back to solo. Predawn and it's the birds, dog walkers and a couple of peregrinos I let go ahead: I dislike the repetition of the noise of walking sticks on the trail: it's a clock ticking reminding me of an order in chaos. Being amongst people, crowds, after the sweet solace of solitude opens up a compendium of tricks to spice up my fragile mind. Thankfully I've no one behind and just two,  equally spaced, peregrinos ahead as I pick herbs with their sweet bouquet to return me to the tranquility. After the wonderful lunch stop, an hour for vegetable soup, pigs cheeks and natural yogurt (1/4l vino Blanco, and most of the cracked flasks water I helped myself to on the same route past the church on the hill, I walked up...

Read all about it! But it changes from moment to moment. The news was being broadcast once more as I stepped back on to the path heading towards sanity? And then it was a nice meander, up and down, then over the top - after the lovely café on the cusp which was a place worthy of a coffee with oat milk, lovely doggies for company too: La Casa De Los Dioses. Not a long morning walking. Arrived at the albergue at 1, after walking to the Cathedral, buying some Tiger Balm, finding the albergue San Javier closed, having a Spaten pilsner beer in the 'Oirish' bar, in the same plaza, with complementary snack: Astorga. I didn't like the experience of the busy albergue. I normally don't. This time I almost got my stuff together and walked into the dusk... Instead I went back to the Oirish Bar and ate pasta. Then I returned to the albergue tried to make something edible from the ear of corn I'd picked on the morning. But without a pressure cooker I think the grouts ...

No judgement. Only love/just love. Love is everything so there isn't anything else. Everything else is an illusion which I have projected upon the world. In itself the world is none of the attributes I might give it. Those concepts are only ever in my mind. By itself it is innocent of the projection I think upon it. In it's self: a very simple concept which is hidden behind or buried beneath a vast array of meaningless untruths I have made in my mind to blind me tenfold. Today I attempt to see beyond the thick lens I have placed upon the world. I will attempt to see what is actually here rather than what I placed before being in its essence. *** On the Way(el Camino) so much has been written on the various surfaces available to passers by. And also so many folks have taken a step back to add to a pile of stones which has become a mound/cairn through the action of time. One of these actions had formed a huge arrow up to the road which then went over the 'flyover', with t...

A man cannot live by stale bread alone, alone, so I stopped for tripe and chickpeas in a picante pimiento sauce at the only bar betwixt there, here and beyond. With a slice of bread and glass of white wine in my gut I continued through the relentlessly straight way ahead: Meseta, but I can see mountains ahead so the end of Meseta is not far off now. On the plus side the maize in the neverending plantation is ready for harvest ... I've now two cobs in the pocket which replaces the bread I ate between somewhere, nowhere and anywhere else: now all I need is a pan to boil its golden nuggets turning them into nourishment... Another day I guess as the medieval bridge finally presented itself, but the Parroquial albergue was cerrado which means I wondered lonely as a cloud until I could ask anyone where might I sleep this evening: I am very weary after the unending Macadam bashing after the garbanzos y callos: a bed for €13 at Albergue La Encina at the end of the f...

Did my usual getting to know you in León central yesterday - it has a great labyrinth of tapas bars, méson restaurants bars and other human wonders, but was back before 4 to chill out: the final bar was the best serving cecina (smoked cured beef).  Slept a lot until the Canadian lady began her snoring festival alongside me. Oh the joys of communal albergues for the imperfect night's sleep you don't need for the day ahead. At three I was verging on screaming. But she did subside for a little while and I just awoke to find it's a quarter to 7 when breakfast is available here in the Saint Franciscan monastery; I just require coffee. Virtually two whole days to get to the path once more and is it ever worth it? I think so as I keep doing it looking for the elusive answer to my question. Why does everyone keep leaving so blasted early and why do all the twentysomethings keep looking for their 'mate' on this trial of penance? The Koreans are on a UNESCO walk and the young...

Returning to Wetherby and I've seen the gulf between it and me extend into new territory. Those faces I observe going through their routine of accommodating death and rarely pushing back against its seeming inflexibility ... But it's got to be in me to see it another way? That's always the case. It's a safe space in which to weed the garden. There is little chance that rockets are going to fall on our sleeping restless heads? Arrived an hour late to Santander as Ryanair had to change aircraft in Dublin. The Boeing was a newer 737 (Max 8200) with an additional two emergency exits and a different arrangement of toilets to the rear, indeed the plane seemed longer and narrower, but that's probably an illusion ... Dropped off my bag at Pension Anglines and went to get a late night dinner and then crashed out. A bit restless at first as I wasn't sure what to do this morning, after the BlaBlaCar host cancelled the direcft trip to León, so I put the alarm on for 6am and...

Saturday morning in Archie's front room and the day begins along North Street, as the cars head up or down, in the dawn fog. The clock on the wall ticks away the seconds and a crow cries outside the window. Time to make breakfast or to take Archie? An hour later, with an espresso in Caffe Nero and a loaf of sour dough bread from Baltzersen's, I've had my breakfast and so has Archie. Now time to get cleaned etc. Then at noon climbed aboard the number 7 to the Stray for a walk along it to Wear Park, a few halves then back on the supercharged X70 to meet Jason, pick up a Chicken Madras to help clear my bowels in a chilli assault; what was curry like prior to the Portuguese taking chillies to India? Sunday morning, the clocks have gone back, but the weather remains damp. The rain woke me during the night, as did the Madras as it worked it's way towards my bowels. It's Sunday and it will be a day of rest. Monday morning. Seems that Milk of Magnesia did the job? And a qui...