Note: Language alert
The bar that promised café y croissant at 6:00am was dark and barred, so our breakfast was vending machine bacon and cheese sandwich and a carton of Nesquik. It was a crisp, clear morning and we ate it in a park watching the lights of a bridge dance on the river.

The map that promised a steep climb out of town proved more trustworthy than the bar, but the salt, fat and sugar from breakfast got me up the hill, passed a woman who looked like I felt yesterday, and out onto the flat track in no time. It was a very pleasant 6 km walk to the first town and along the way we were surprised at the marker which showed we had already walked 240kms, only 580 to go!

Even better there was a bar open,and we were soon enjoying our breakfast. I was confident that the remaining 16kms would not be as challenging as previous days.

He strode into the bar, tall and imposing in his red cape. “It’s fucking raining” he said, and sat down.
The rain turned the track to treacherously slippery mud, which we carried in sticky clumps on our boots and pants for 9 long kms.

“Poor Mum,” said D2, as we sat cold, wet and muddy at the next town, “all she wants is a break!”
The rain stopped while we were being warmed by a hot cup of coffee, and the rest of the walk was easier. The vivid green and yellow fields dotted here and there with wild scarlet poppies helped us forget the morning’s hard slog through the mud.

But gimme a break, would an easy day from beginning to end be too much to ask?

Every day on the Camino brings it’s challenges and for me today it was the 8 km walk to the first town. It was a short walk today so we decided on a bit later start. I don’t know why but from the first steps I knew it was going to be hard going. There weren’t even any hills to climb up or down leaving town! Perhaps it was the bitter cold wind, or just a bit of Camino weariness. D2 is always my patient and encouraging companion, but sometimes misery wants it’s company, so I sent her on to the first town. Oh what a jolly good wallow I had! I cried as pilgrims strode past me, disappearing purposefully off into the distance, I swore at the stones that seemed sharper than usual, I moaned about my pack which seemed twice as heavy as yesterday. I struggled into the town, wondering how I was going to make it on to the next one.
D2 had finished her hot chocolate by the time I got there and we decided she would continue on ahead and find accommodation for us. A coffee and a chat with some German ladies and I was on my way, deciding to find some wild poppies to leave on one of the many stone shrines along the way. After a couple of kms I didn’t find any poppies but came across a big shrine on a ridge overlooking a beautiful valley of fields and vineyards. There I made my Anzac Day Memorial, I thought of the men and women over the years, ordinary Australians like me who faced greater challenges than I will ever face so we can live in the wonderful country I call home.

Lest we forget

Sometimes this is the longest walk of the day. Your destination ahead, so tantalisingly close, just a short walk through the grape vines and you’re there. So close you can almost smell the cafe con leche, taste the hot chocolate, feel that first cool sip of sangria.

But oh no, why go straight there when you can take the long and windy road? Oh, and why not rain as well?

Let’s throw in a hill and a bridge as well

And just as you are good and wet, every bone in your foot is whinging, your calf muscles are complaining, and your glutes are screaming, a wooden set of stairs to take you to the bottom of the next hill into the middle of town would really make your day……..

But joy oh joy, there is a private room available at the Albergue El Cantaro – €20 instead of €10, and all’s well with the world!