Porto Marin to St. Julian September 1st.
I couldn’t help but notice all the hard suitcases lining the hallway as I made my way out into what was a still dark morning. I was now in the land of the hundred kilometre pilgrim and over the next hour I realized I had probably a big mistake by timing my arrival in Santiago for the Labour Day weekend. Within the first two kilometres I started to come upon walkers with either no packs or ones just large enough to carry a toilet and snack kit. I couldn’t help but think of all the fortitude I had witnessed from the previous four weeks as I had watched fellow walkers push on through blisters, pulled tendons and fatigue. Somehow it just didn’t seem just and I wondered how the church could allow it especially when looked at through the prism of history. I walked past the first few cafes full of chattering new walkers all examining their feet from their first couple of kilometre. I figured if I could just get in front of the main bulge I could pit stop for a quick espresso and toast and stay in my own space. I found an empty cafe and had a quick shot and bite and was just slinging my sack when David came grinning into the cafe commenting on the trails newest additions. He wasn’t too concerned with just two days to go and one of which he was planning to walk through the night under a full moon into Santiago. I intended to stop early today and rest my shin. I was at least two days earlier than I had intended but at no time did I feel like I was rushing and I had intended to take a couple of lay over days in Burgos and Leon which I had found swamped with tourists. So I let my feet doing the talking and just answered the call of the road, I walked into Palais de Rei and found the usual crowd and decided to push on to little village of San Julian where I found a private albergue and booked in. The building was gorgeous a combination of stone and timber with local nick knackery provide by the owner who ran the small bar and restaurant and 14 beds with two washrooms. Here I met Rebecca and Gina two lady hikers who had been school mates and had reunited for the walk. Gina was coming in from Barbados and Rebecca was a British expat who was now chasing her dreams in Florence Italy. Definitely in my top three alburges to stop in with a great soundtrack ranging from Nina Simone to Howling Wolf to Lorena McKenna. That night we had a group dinner with a full house and a lovely meal. There were two nice Swiss ladies and also the couple I had mistaken for Germans the very first day who turned out to be welsh showing how far out of it I must have been on that mountainside fighting my jet lag. I commented on the good time they had made and they informed me they had bussed over the entire 250 kilometre Meseta which made me feel pretty good. Later I don’t think my head had hit the pillow and I was gone.
To be continued