Estella to Los Arcos

On my way out of Estella I passed an albergue where a group was gathered outside, in the dawn, singing what I assume was a hymn. It was a kind of sobering reminder that for me this is tourism, and, to an extent, extremely privileged therapy, but to some this remains a deeply religious experience. I hope they have a wonderful day.

I did. It didn't rain, which helped immensely. At one stage it threatened, and a few drops fell suggestively, but I had a stern chat with the clouds, imploring them to hold on 15 more minutes until I got to Los Arcos please. The sun came back out and I remembered my manners and said thank you.

In a town where a bunch of pilgrims had stopped for a snack, it was surreal to have my name called out, by Dave (English, yellow beanie) sitting at a table. Travelling alone, and being constantly on the move, it's an odd and wonderful thing to be recognised. Novelty hasn't faded yet.Read more