Our mileage in my count above is fairly arbitrary. Margo has strava’d our walk each day and the count is sometimes several miles higher. My number is based on some random gpx file uploaded into caltopo to make my own map, and the Camino apps we are using have slightly different numbers too. The point is that we are walking, and it is adding up.
To help manage my ongoing mobility I brought my stick roller – something you may remember me bringing on my Appalachian Trail section hike in 2022 and beyond. I swear by that thing to ease my sore legs and calves and help prevent another bout of plantar fasciitis; it just feels good too.
Ok now, this morning was a bit rough, I didn’t sleep well and am surprised that day after day I keep going out here on minimal or poor sleep. This is where my body is running on muscle memory I guess…and lack of sleep can’t be good for the growing tumors (good for me I mean), but we only have a few days left, and then there is a full rest day ahead of me once we get back to London before the conference Margo and I are going to next week. I can sleep then maybe?
We left the posh comfort of our cabin on the lake for a chilly road walk up into some more trees. We were both a bit disturbed when we passed what looked like thousands of caged white furry animals…a mink farm? They were silent, which made it even spookier.
The way was flat(ish) once we reached the top, and there was even a small section of new trail. We saw folks on small machines yesterday building more new trail to help get the pilgrims off the roads, which is astonishing as this path is 1,000 years old. It just goes to show a trail is never done, no matter how old it is; there are always improvements that can be made.
We had a coffee stop mid morning, and kept on trucking south. At another break we had cold drinks and chatted with a couple of guys from the UK while we gazed at a sculpture garden across the street. A very impressive dinosaur figure silently roared at us from the field, and we enjoyed the easy chatting that comes from speaking the same language.
The afternoon got hot as we alternated walking between road shoulders and tree tunnel paths built just for us. It was early afternoon and we hadn’t had a proper meal yet when Margo identified a restaurant disguised as a lovely country home.
We saw a woman who beckoned us in, and entered the loveliest restaurant/hotel we had seen this entire time. We were put on a back patio looking out over a garden that one could imagine on Pinterest or Instagram. There were flowers on the table, and our waitress even spoke English and helped us determine what to eat from the impressive menu. We both enjoyed a chilled glass of white wine and Margo invited another UK hiker, Ella, to join us at our table. We had never spoken this much English to other travelers so far. The whole experience was a true delight. Somehow we managed to fit in some dessert to our four course meal, and we positively waddled out the gate an hour later.
We were happily groaning as we walked the last mile to our lodging for the night, but the hot sun turned my happy groan into a sleepy slog. So this is why the Spanish take their siestas in the late afternoon – because they spend a few hours eating their biggest meal of the day and nothing can happen again until evening when some of it is finally digested!
We checked into our rental apartment for the night and I immediately got horizontal on the couch, then my bed.
Sometime in here the headache that I’ve been suffering for months crept back in. So far on this trip it has just been a hint, and I’ve been able to keep it at bay with my usual ibuprofen and tylenol, but it was back with a vengeance, along with what felt like the start of a cold. Well, the feeling of normalcy was good while it lasted (pre cancer normalcy that is)… I took to bed after a short bath and watched a movie on my phone while I hugged my hot water bottle. My bed at home sounded pretty good, but I’ll have ample bed time in a few weeks when chemo starts again. Sigh.
But I’m not done yet!
