A rebel without a clue.

Randomly weeping again - O Camiño - Just as I was finishing a fantastic lunch (Liresca Restaurante) when I got all emotional about seeing my girl again shortly! While talking to a younger Canadian who I was explaining Albert/Vimy Ridge... Which is also very emotional? Being away so long, with only those days between - looking after Archie - is the longest she's not been right at the top of my agenda all the time. She's the best thing that every happened to me. She had a operation to remove a benign cyst, off her chest and her right thigh, when I initially travelled to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. So she was in 'recovery mode' when I returned and had Archie to do sit for (but we did do a fairly large one, the day before I left to return to León, up on Wetherby Racecourse). But shortly I'll be staring deeply into those beautiful brown eyes: full of pure love, innocence, free of judgement or malice, but with perhaps just a twinkling of cunning whenever she smel...

Even in this moment I can't step back and relax: why am anxious in the rain? I am fully protected wearing waterproof trousers and the aging Páramo coat, and I've the backpack covered. For combustibles I've a pocket full of cooked chestnuts (the ones I picked on the way to Samos).l All my clothes are laundered, but the underpants (bamboo) are not so quick drying! So one pair is on damp and the remainder in a plastic bag for the next chance to dry: wherever today ends. Weary. Albergue Bela Muxía was clean and quiet, but I can't stand those disposable bedding sets: they make me sweaty in bed: I like to be frigid in bed. It was still value for money as the staff were smiley and helpful(€16). Trying to wait for sunrise before doing another days walking: there is a very refreshing fuente below Igrexa de Santa Maria which I want to replenish my flask with. All that anxiety. It's just weariness. There is always one cafe opening by 7am somewhere in the universe? O Xardín caf...

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...