A rebel without a clue.

Tired this afternoon. Drifted away from the way into anxious waters ... Wondering how far to go, looking at the phone for answers, scratching the same scab I've had since July 2022. Please leave it alone hands. I am almost unconscious of the action; almost. Eucalyptus plantations remind me of the morning coming into Santiago back in 2013: quick growing, but easy burning, a paper crop. And also passing the colossal Aviator paper manufacturer near Figueira do Foz December 2021. At the road side eatery, where the host gave me the food gratis, he asked me to reach Santiago for him and his family as he couldn't make the journey: that was at the back of another wet wet day. This one got this way after lunch. O Canto das Rosas, N109. This man. Such kindness. In three days I will reach Santiago for him, at least ... If not for myself? 16th December 2020: I must return to Figueira do Foz to continue towards Porto, that way to Santiago? It's in the possible futures. A sho...

I had a day off the journal yesterday. Not that I hadn't plenty to consider, but I was busy with the visual effects of the day as I approached Portomarin, checked into a private albergue, with a fully functional kitchen, ate a lovely lunch, made a lovely dinner. Drank some wine, etc. Awoke at 2pm. Had an hour of struggling to get back to sleep wondering if I need to start examining my life? The unexamined life isn't worth much. This Camino is the one where answers are to be revealed and I definitely saw hints of serendipitous ponderousness happening after I stopped for coffee and cake mid morning... Those pump clips. The second time I cried tears of joy and happiness... Because I see things I don't see elsewhere: where I have peak experiences which fill me with hope, I keep going. But they are vanishingly Illusive/allusive as l sit down for yet another cup of coffee, orange juice and aceite y tomate this morning .... Such pathos. Ten years ago I bega...

A goal was reached yesterday. The third since I left Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port that morning. Walking the main route from Saint Jean, walking all the way to Burgos and entering Galicia on foot. Another 'goal', actually a source of fear, Sarria where the few become the many. Yesterday I received my first 'compostele' token. And the hunt is on. Walking through a canyon, after a large lunch, the dogs are scenting the quarry and I just hope it's not me or another bit of pilger meat? I think I am on the wrong side of the torrent of hounds running through the chasms. *** I decided to carry on when I might've stopped. For some reason I want to be in blasted blinking bleeding Sarria on Sunday... Another seven days since León on another Monday. Sunday is a day of rest so it's pretty quiet out. It has been since I stepped off the plate around 7:30am. But there was no rest for me *** A good menu del día in Triacastela, and I almost stayed in the co...

I ate well. Making a soup and a spaghetti dish from the various vegetables and the chorizo before hitting the hay. Asleep in no time. Now I am drinking tea on top of Kefir - tea on an empty stomach is a no no - as I await the percolator to produce java beans in the ground floor dining room of Albergue de la Piedra. It's not yet 6... Meandering around town after 5pm I was looking for a couple of pairs of replacement underpants as these three are developing difficulties in the gusset area: there isn't any material left, but the benefit is that they're airfree/carefree. All clothes are freshly laundered this morning. And I've a pair of Spanish, Astorga, Lana socks to replace the thread bare Smartwool™ ... ***Three hours then a break for coffee, burnt chestnuts and raw burnt hot potatoes*** which may have consequences? There were none. Coming into Galicia I literally cried. The food carried me all the way up to the final stop, prior to leaving Spain to walk into another wor...

Good morning? The very first hangover of the Camino ... too much Mencía. I threw up. Then I dry retched this morning. Not sure I over did the vino. I am sure I mainly cooked with it, mainly! Too many chica. Too busy. It got to me. Yesterday was pretty tough coming down into Pontferrada and after the first glass in Molinaseca, with the very lovely caldo(broth) I got vino crazy. Today's destination is the centre of the wine area here, el Bierzo, but I'll just look? I will not touch ... I should do some washing, sleep well and climb into Galicia on Saturday morning? *** And stop. A bit boring, straight ahead through suburbia but perfect with a slight hangover. Back In the church square of Pontferrada I had two coffees, two orange juices and a croissant (a little burnt) and it did the trick? With 1% battery and 1% energy I stopped opposite a Church, again, in Cacabelos and ate a hearty menu del día which helped to solve most of these problems! After a visit to the local fuente to r...

On the Camino I often have totally bewildeing dreams which seem to reach a satisfactory conclusion: like a snake eating it's tail. Just now was the same as I awoke to begin another walk. Outside the albergue the wind howls and the temperature anywhere but in the dormitory has fallen to 'very cold'. The toilet is at the back of the albergue, which is attached to the church, so there is a mediaeval chill to the structure. For the first time in my knowledge I've been woken by a Korean snoring, but it was the snoring of a duck, if such a creature snores in an albergue!?! It's really time for me to get up, and that would be an excellent prospect as the bed I am in is simply too short for me: either I am sleeping crunched up or perennially hitting my head on the headboard or my feet on the footboard. Last night I was exhausted so I ate pasta across the road and retired, but I would've liked to join in on the long table discussion, the supper table, I've not been s...

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...