A rebel without a clue.

Coming down off the eucalyptus plantations I saw two peregrinos returning home the old way! One solo, to Italy, on the Camino del Norte and another with his dog (he wasn't conversational), but it was lovely to see their dedication... Then on the final few kilometres the old war wound was making its presence felt - shooting left foot pain - so I slowed down... Then I saw a Jay playing amongst the wood shavings so my mind went elsewhere for a moment: charming to see. *** After I'd checked into the Last Stamp hostel (top floor private €38 - very low ceiling, but a comfortable double bed) I went and ate caldo and chipirones accompanied by a couple of glasses of local vino(Rias Baixas and Rebeiro Sacra) in La Tita (a very popular, but small, eatery) then sought beer. A couple of Imperial Stouts later I was weeping at the futility of O Camiño. *** On only two occasions was I approached by people to beg money from me. Once, outside the cathedral, and just now in the bus st...

There are too many James's! I should know which Iacobus I am walking over these leaf strewn paths towards? It's James Zebedee bouncing on his joyous spring through the woods, still in the mist... It's not James the Just. So many ghosts in my mind pulling and pushing me away from the clarity which is always present. Prejudice is one such conceit. I simply want to let them be, but something projects all my hatreds onto something I have created: these images are pictures I have made to imprison my mind. Part of the walking was always to kill this irritating being totally. I get overtaken by it in so many instances.

The further from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port the more uptight I've become: some days I have been less wound up, but over the duration I've definitely become more and more like a coiled spring ready to release all its tension in one moment of expiration - with a bang and not a dampened whimper! It's as though the closer I get to reaching the goal the less happy I am to cross the finish line? During the second part of this Camino Frances I have had a couple of mind altering moments, peak experiences? Reaching Galicia on that tough day and then seeing echoes of home on another tough day... But otherwise empty? Buenos Días. It's foggy. There is a guy called Raphael who has walked from his home on the other side of the Sistema Central north of Madrid (Sierra de Guadarrama), along the same route I walked in December 2022, before the old war wound of the left foot broke my step coming into Segovia! This is his '100th' Camiño ... He's done loads! But that...

Slept in, well passed the 6am alarm call, as the phone was off, but I am relieved as I was awake alot in the night: just too humid, no curtain cover with a street light pouring in all night, a very bright emergency exit illumination and, unbelievaby, a bleeding mosquito in November! But I am slowing down today - only two more days... What do I feel. Apart from weary once more? I'll consider it on Chocolate con Churros. The bin men finally woke me at 6:45am. Municipal albergues. A wonderful night's rest in Palas de Rei is followed by what I am struggling with all the rest of the time. Fair enough the albergue room was sparsely populated, but the snoring carried, as did the usual toilet visits... I am a little oily too from overheating - 20°C in November in Galicia is definitely wrong? *** Spain's sworn in PM is younger than me! Oh no! I've reached the age when not only footballers but now MPs are kids! Pedro Sanchez Presidente. Slim margin... *** Two more day...

That helped. Don't feel like hell warmed up this morning. Will keep going. Was tempted to get away from the hordes but they're everywhere. And it's my walk, pilgrimage, thingy? Three more days. 9 days since I restarted this two parter: with Archie the other Vizsla having a great time between and 24 since leaving Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port on. Three more days. 4th October into the Pyrenees ending on Friday 17th November? The holgates: Holloway: following a hollow way; and I am such a hollow man? I was always hateful of hollow, even in my combustible youth!  And to the first place you come to el paso! Those who are crying out that it's the best food for miles, shout 'poo to you with knobs on' and, taking my erstwhile advice, walk on for many many miles as it is the last place you should go to to eat quality cuisine... Around Delirium Café in Brussels remember this advice? With so many options how would that dishonest person know? Carry on! Walk on by. Walk! Don't...

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...