Playa fluvial Fuente del Prior

When you are trying to live a simple pilgrimage, mens aftershave nearly knocks you over. Honestly, what is it made of! None of the women ever smell of anything, we are consciously neutral I think - odour resistant fabrics and unscented toiletry bags. This, by the way, is a great shame to me, as creating a perfume association with a long trip is an established habit of mine and I'm sad not to be doing this now. I suppose if I want an olfactory memory, I can huff a bit of bread. But it's not the same.

It's a wonderful privilege to have a life I am looking forward to returning to after this trip, as much as I am enjoying myself. When I think about it, the things I'm most keen on at the moment are all sensory - exfoliating my entire body, wearing a soft jumper not a swishy puffer jacket, drinking tap water, sitting on a couch not a bunk bed, and having a hug.

I really needed the latter today when, about 75 minutes out of Burgos, the rain came. At the time I thought I was 45 minutes away, as an exuberant man in the linear park passing me said encouragingly in Spanish that it was three kilometres to the cathedral. On debriefing at the albergue, it's become apparent this absolute troll told everyone he passed it was three kilometres to the cathedral, regardless of where he passed them. Truly Machiavellian, you have to applaud it.

I knew it would rain, so had my jacket and pack cover on already, but I wasn't prepared for the kneecap job it did to morale. I think at the start of the trip, I didn't know any better and it was all new and fresh and the rain didn't bother me too much. After a few warm dry days, my skin has softened - it was bloody awful. Shivering, soaked, I trudged about five kilometres through the city outskirts, appreciating nothing, to the albergue.

I stared at it, it stared at me, I narrowed my eyes, it wasn't backing down. The little sign said 'cash only' and of course, trudging, I had forgotten to go to an ATM and remained in the black by a mere €1.45. Tears threatened to join the growing puddle underneath me at the desk, so I muddled through asking if I could at least leave my bag while I returned once more to the breach, and turned and went back out, returning half an hour later when I'd finally tracked one down and dragged myself back up the hill.

After a few minutes of fumbling with white stiff fingers, I managed to get my shoelaces untied and my zipper down, and went and stood in the mercifully hot shower until I thawed. Emerging to join Dave and two women I've known too long to ask their names in the kitchen, I was in much higher spirits, downed two coffees then went out for a walk, a wine, and a pintxo.

I've not got a sweet tooth at the best of times but due to my authentically skint experience, that pintxo was my first bit of food for the day and subsequently, in a raging thirst for calories, evidently, I've inhaled a pack of gummy bears, three Oreos, a straciatella icecream, and a Kinder Bueno. If you could hook cane sugar up to an IV I'd probably go for it.

It was only like a 23km day but it felt so much harder. I'm crashing now. I'm going to stay an extra night in Burgos because I've seen bugger all of it and it's meant to rain tomorrow which I just can't face walking in. Czytaj więcej