Villafranca del Bierzo to O'Cebriero

I am just now, with one week to go, building a fucking Camino family. I am simultaneously thrilled and devastated.

In the kitchen last night I ended up having dinner, and a tea, and a really genuinely good conversation, with Lucy, an Englishwoman living in Malaga. This morning, I finally asked where the incredibly gentle man that looks like a punk anarchist bouncer is from - he folds his clothes and makes his bed so slowly and carefully. Turns out I've slept next to Christian from Naples three times and we have both been speaking broken if earnest Spanish to each other this entire time. I know his neighbourhood. He is a delight.

Eight kilometres in, salut to the tiny French woman Maggie I've orbited in the last few days. 10 kilometres in, Fabrice emerges from the opposite direction to the trail, swearing and swinging his poles around in frustration at having taken a completely useless detour. Maggie sent him the wrong way, did I hear the dog? Did I hear him screaming swear words at the dog? He's two days into quitting smoking, you can tell.

I was a bit nervous about the elevation later so I broke a month long tradition and walked with him all day, with brief interludes. He said I calmed him. He was surprisingly protective - buying me coffees, pulling me away from traffic, walking on my outside on the roads, peeling me apples, making me fill my water and put on sunscreen. After a month of aggressive self sufficiency, this was unusual but nice - a lesson in accepting help maybe.

In the last four kilometres Lucy and Maggie joined us, along with some completely knackered Japanese men, and we summited together. What a bloody view. It was so worth it. I don't know about hardest day. There were certainly tough bits, and in different weather sure maybe it would have been less enjoyable, but honestly I loved it. Maybe I am harder too. 💪Read more