When I stepped out this morning is was dark and it was cold however to my surprise there was quite a bit of action in the street. Pilgrims were appearing from around corners and the bar directly opposite the exit was open and serving cafe con leche and toast.

I had a bit of croissant left from the day before so finished that off as first breakfast and grabbed a cafe con leche before heading into the dark. A little way in a girl was coming back from the dark at great speed as she had walked a kilometre or so before realising she had forgotten her poles.

The weather was starting to clear up but the temperature was starting to drop so I stopped and pulled out the wool glove liners and Aldi beanie to supplement the layers I already had on. I had a few head lamps in front at a distance and it provided a sense of security confirming that I was heading the right direction so I kept up a good pace (in my mind) and made good progress for a couple of kilometres before daylight crept up. It wasn’t one of the most spectacular sunrises but it was good to be out and about.

The ruins of something or other stood up on a hill to the side as the path wound around the hill side and the number of people waxed and waned as the path continued.

It wasn’t long before another hungry man came up beside me and started using google translate however I spoke into it and told him I couldn’t read without my glasses which I don’t where while I’m walking to avoid the problem of missing a pot hole and tripping because the multifocals just don’t like looking down. He told me he was going to learn English as soon as he finished the camino. I guess he was as frustrated as the hungry beekeeper was because no one spoke Hungarian.

Then an Irish fast walker who I had met in Hontanas briefly came along and we chatted for a while until arriving at the ruin of San Antons. I think it would be interesting to stay there with no power at the albergue but it always seems a bit too early in the day when I arrive.

After another few kilometres Castorjeriz came into view and I pondered whether it would ever be worth climbing up to the castle. Plenty of people have said they wanted to do it but I think it would have to be a day off for it to be worth it for me and, quite frankly, that bloody big hill on the other side of town was one hill too many for me today! I also pondered whether I needed to enter the village which was up up up and then out was down the other side. Was there a way around without that additional up up up? I decided I needed to wander through and visit the town for second breakfast and then proceeded to pass a couple of bars opened at the foot of the road up in order to get to the Plaza Major or main square.

Unfortunately there was quite a bit of road work going on so the opportunity to sit and watch the world go bye over a cafe con leche and a tortilla was not to be. Instead I sat inside the only opened bar and waited a couple of minutes for the pilgrims shop to open next door. The nice old fellow had recently lost his wife but was still manning the desk at 92 years old (at least thats how old I think he said he was). He was impressed with my hiking poles and decided to give them a try before I left.

Anyway I bid farewell or rather buenes Dias and off I went well aware that a bloody big hill awaited but knowing there was a trade off of a spectacular view (all going well with the weather).

Before reaching the base of the hill a Dutch man strolled along and chatted for a while but took off at great speed once the incline began. I huffed and I puffed and I got up that damn hill and I stopped numerous times to look back and admire the view. A couple of the Italians passed me and this time Anna stopped and introduced herself and we chatted in broken spanish. She grabbed me and hugged me when she realised I was walking solo. They travel in packs those Italians. But you already know that don’t you. They sing, they yell at each other and they can all cook. (Except for the two at Granon.)

Anyway then another young Italian just strolled on by with no shirt on, in the cold, up this bloody big hill. I offered to take his photo with his phone as he also happened to be pushing a very heavy looking bike. He seemed quite pleased with his photo. I took an action shot with my phone.

Finally reached the top and took a break looking back to Castrojeriz and was glad the weather was clearing up. This would’ve been hell a couple of days earlier. A few Taiwanese people passed me carrying everything but the kitchen sink so I felt obligated to take a photo. They laughed and I laughed and we kept walking to the other side of the bloody big hill and the descent onto the meseta.

I had acquired a packed of M&M’s with peanuts inside when I had my second breakfast at Castrojeriz so I thought it was time to re-energise with this health food. I snacked on a couple and took a few snaps with my camera before partaking in the very obvious descent/. A young couple offered to take my photo before they ran down the hill.

This was quite unpleasant for my knees and actually very slow. Young people were speeding past. Actually so were old people. I was zigzagging down the mountain trying to limit the impact as much as possible. I did okay. I got to the bottom without incident but my foot started expressing some dissatisfaction with its life and slowly but surely it became quite angry as the day progressed. Bloody hills. Well descents anyway.

I plodded on for what seemed like forever admiring the country side and was glad when I passed the Italian albergue San Nicholas. I am quite sure the Italians would all want to stop there.

I eventually rolled into Itero de la Vega where the Dutch man, the American woman with the bruised ankle and the Australian Lady with the bed bug bites sat sipping beer . I briefly toyed with the idea of walking on but settled on a taxi as I had another 8 kms to go and my foot was now very angry with me. I didnt feel guilty as I don’t want to ruin my foot reconstruction thats for sure.

I arrived at boadilla and Eduardo gave me special treatment and sent me up to the 2nd floor of the hotel . This was special. My friend the lady from Atlanta was there and only one other bed was occupied. Others he took to the old albergue around the corner. I think they still had the old double bunks but we all had cama bajas on the second floor. We couldn’t decide whether we looked old and needed bottom bunks or whether it was special treatment. We may never know!

It was a pleasant afternoon and eventually the Australian lady with the bed bug bites arrived and was glad I’d saved her a bed. I wasn’t scared it had happened a week ago but those darn bites just hang around annoying you forever!

The dinner was a great pilgrimage affair and we sat with the Irish fast walker and the Danish couple who I’d met in the rain while waiting for the bus to Burgos during the cyclone. It was a spectacular display of organisation and the food was good. I forgot to photograph the main event which for me was beef stew but trust me it was good.

The dormitory was not exactly a quiet affair as it was bookended by the loud Argentinian octogenarian snoring at one end and the French honker at the other. I didnt care. My earplugs were good. It was hot though and it was difficult to open the lofty windows with the rain pouring down. After it stopped it was difficult to open them with spanish people there – they never want the windows open do they!

Buenas noches.