The last couple of days have been physically draining but I did feel at the end of yesterday's strenuous section better Rhan I did yesterday, which means I am getting my Camino legs. It always starts out like that. I only ever really get going three or four days into the trek.
There is another odd phenomenon. Most of the hostels are full at night yet during the day I hardly meet anyone, save for the occasional farmer. I think different walking pace has something to do with it. I am never refused water but yesterday, at the top of that exhausting climb a farmer offered me a small bag of nuts, trail mix in essence. I thanked him and didn't have the heart to tell him that eating them there and then would send an already burning thirst into overdrive. But it was a kind thought.
I should not suffer the early morning ' How do I get out of this place? ' problems today. There is only one way out and even my rusty radar can find that, the hostel being on a country road a few miles from the town. It is only a few yards from a bar. Now on not really a morning breakfast person but for The price of a cup of coffee i was able to use their toilet and washroom. The hostel at Bruma was good, but not enough facilities for everyone.
I asked for a coffe and milk and got a question back in return. I had no idea what I was being asked so simply nodded. It's always worked before. I got a piece of toast the size of a small field and a portion of butter and jam to match. The toast was burnt around the edges and the soft dough had large holes in it where the gas escaped when baking. I peeled back the golden top to the butter and watched as the yellow slab melted into the holes. Then I spread the jam, filling the holes as best I could . I hung over it and inhaled the smell of warm butter and crunchy edges. I took a bite and sucked on it. It was delicious. The fatty butter seeped out of the holes and the jam, silky yet sharp, readily followed. I took another bite and held it in my mouth while taking a gulf of coffee and allowing the coffee to feel the bread, melting it my mouth. I didn't need to chew it it simply slid down.
When finished I wiped the plate with my finger together with some jam that had escaped, sucking on my finger like a calf sucking a teat. Fantastic.
Today was a 25 kms walk to a small town called Sigueiro. A few miles of country Tarmac with the sun rising to my left, and only a small layer of mist hiding the fields. The sun showed red, then yellow and finally white, all the time warming me. It was level walk, through country lanes where the evocative smell of woodsmoke competed with the eucalyptus and smell of pine. Drovers roads, rough track very narrow with high hedges were surmounted by thin trees through which the sun flickered like someone flashing a pack of cards in front of my face.
I came across a lovely house. Beautiful brown stonework exquisitely pointed with tiny well varnished brown shutters at the upstairs windows, where, red clay pots sprout a profusion of red and yellow flowers. I have to say it looked like me in my prime. Alongside was a another building. The red pantiled roof had collapsed and what was left sprouted patches of moss and grass. The windows the eyes of the house, were covered in grime making the view from them myopic. The aged stone walls were building and sagging in the middle. The analogy was not lost on me.
But, that's what time does to one, no good moaning about it.
The rest of the walk was a breeze. Long stretches of forest track where only the distant buzz in of a chain saw disrupted the silence. There were no other walkers and few residents Thise I did meet posed for a picture or simply slumbered the morning away lost deep in dreams of bygone days. What activity there was done at a leisurely pace. A pushed wheelbarrow here, a horse being given a slow brush down, and even the dogs could only manage one yelp before dumping their heads back onto
After six hours I arrived My destination and found a hotel, the only person snoring tonight would be me. Then I discovered I had left my charging adaptor back at the last hosel. So it is only with the good grace of the owner of the hotel who has lent me is sons lead am I able to get this done today.
I now have to go looking for shop.