Fonfria to Sarria

I might have been experiencing a crash after yesterday's high, or maybe I had just settled into a calmer state. Maybe it was just that there was no one around to pass, or maybe it was the strange fact that I go faster uphill than down, and today was a lot of down. All this to say, today was a slower pace. Much more of a meander though the country.

Yesterday, 20km all uphill, took me 3.5 hours, today, 27km almost all flat or downhill, took me 6. Odd.

The morning started off so cold I had to scrunch up my paws in the ends of my sleeves, huffing on them occasionally for warmth. With no hills to climb I just couldn't get warm, and spent the first couple of hours shuddering along, but it was hard to care when I was looking at the sunrise. You'll see it was a beauty.

I'm actually staying at my little albergue for 2 nights tonight, not from any need or desire, but because I had a route change I needed to make, that put me a day ahead of the rest of the schedule. Rather than faffing around trying to bring all my booked accom for the next week forward a night, I thought I'd just spend an extra one here so I'm synced back up. A little miffed actually, but I'm sure my body won't mind.

I had another reluctant encounter with Johan today, a character I've yet to introduce. I first met Johan a few nights ago when I was wandering down to the creek for my post dinner dip. He was marching into town at the ripe hour of 8pm, poles out, poncho on (it wasn't raining), and teetering beneath a pack that looked like it weighed as much as him. A bespectacled gangly youth, he asked me "are you a pilgrim, is there an albergue in this town, are there any beds?" After I got over my brief moment of bemusement as to, a) why on earth are you getting in so late, how long have you been walking, b) why do you apparently have no idea where you're staying, and c) what, pray tell, Johan, is your plan if there are not any beds, I informed him that yes, there was, and yes, I believe there is. Unfortunately the albergue in question was my albergue, and the bed in question was my neighbour. Sigh.

I spotted him again the next day, on the hill climb, happily passing him as he tottered onwards, one wrong step away from being crushed under the weight of his belongings. Today, we both had stopped at a little roadside rest stop, kitted out with a table of offerings by donation - fruit, biscuits, juice, etc. I, perfectly minding my business, take the opportunity to contentedly stand around in the sun, nibbling a bikkie. Johan, regrettably not minding his, approaches me to ask "are you good?" I pause. Biscuit stills, mid chew. I look at him and reply in a tone that I'm convinced is both mild and pleasant, and, somehow simultaneously, confused and scathing, "...uh, yes?" He looks at me. I audibly blink. Grasping at straws, I ask, "are you?" He proceeds to tell me that it is a hard day for him, as he has no food, and is walking a long way (as are we all, Johan). I fight the confused bark of laughter that threatens to escape my throat, and ask, "....why?" I've been told, many times, in my life that I have a very expressive face, and I fear Johan was beginning to cop the full scope of it. As my mind was whirring to conceive of a reason for this idiot to not be carrying food for a 25km+ walk, I was just about to gesture violently to the table full of food in front of us and demand to know if Johan was in fact impaired, when he told me, "mmm...I don't know...I kind of wanted to...?" This is where my patience for Johan's bullshit officially ends. After a few more audible blinks in his direction, I leave him with advice to "make sure you drink a lot of water then (you absolute buffoon)" and make my escape.

Unsure as to Johan's current whereabouts and well-being, will be sure to update as information becomes available.Read more