As anticipated I needed give my body some rest to recuperate so I caught a taxi again a few kilometres out of Astorga and walked the last 10 kilometres up to Rabanal. I really wanted to stay at the Donativo operated by the English Confraternity of St James and I knew that Fräulein had had trouble when she had sent her bag to them last time so I wanted to carry my full pack and I didnt want to run out of batteries again!

I was glad that I started walking well before Rabanal and managed to catch a few rainbows and also view all the crosses on the fences where we had added our own in 2018.

I arrived at Guacelmo early and sat with one of the Italians from Granon who was sitting outside.

We started talking (more or less) and I showed him a short video I had taken when he was singing with the Italian chefs. I sent it via WhatsApp along with another couple of photos and about the same time the Aussie New Zealander from Brisbane appeared and I showed him a photo of his group in silhouette outside of Los Arcos. So we filled the time swapping photos before one of the hospitaleros came out the door with a wheelbarrow to have a chat on his way to load some wood for the fire.

Eventually we made it inside and I did ask if there was a separate room I could occupy as I might sneeze or annoy others throughout the night. There wasn’t so I located a bunk below a window with a wide berth either side from the other bunks.

I traipsed around town and caught up with my fellow Antipodean and had a rather large lunch as I was quite hungry – although not as hungry as the serving size was! I also visited the once bustling albergue we had stayed in previously. It was very quiet with only a few other guests in the bar. It was a very different place at this time of the year.

Eventually another bunch of Italians arrived with a Columbian ring in and a nice Korean Man who had chosen the name Duncan. It was time to let the Italians know they could call me Mary. Still too difficult the double vowel and the L it seems!

We had a lovely afternoon tea with a piece of cake each and a great meal at the restaurant opposite the albergue.

The Italians decided to cook themselves and made pasta back at the albergue. I had seriously eaten enough when I returned and they offered me a plate so I grabbed a wine glass the size of a thimble and said I’d have a drink with them instead. It was quite a laugh sitting there with communication not difficult at all despite most people speaking only one language and not all the same one thats for sure.

Anyway I was the first to go to bed and I was exhausted enough that I didnt hear a thing once my head hit the pillow.

A big day ahead on the morrow with a long hike up to the Iron cross and over the range. Most would head down into Molinaseca or Ponferrada but I was organising a taxi down the hill this time as that particular descent had been my demise last time and I had heard two people were airlifted out a week ago after a couple of nasty falls. That was definitely not going to be me this week!

Buenas noches.