. . . the journey woke me early on my potential rest day . . . bedtime was late, after a big shared meal with the team . . . options then were: rest day for the ankle, 15km to first albergue, 30 to next, 40 to Burgos and a wild card possibility of a fast diversion to Portugal . . . time to write before breakfast, though internet was not playing . . . walked round town looking for early coffee and testing ankle . . . no coffee and ankle tender . . . rest day still on the cards . . . the others were up late, Joe proposed eggs in last night's leftover potatoes . . . my thoughts switched to the walk . . . ankle responded . . .
. . . first a coffee at the truckstop, then a steep climb into the forest . . . Francisco ahead, Joe and I talking, Dylan behind . . . the forest path levelled out . . . came to the scene of a mass grave from 1936 . . . dropped down, up again in familiar pine plantation . . . as we discuss all sorts,it feels more like a Sunday stroll than a camino slog . . . at St Juan de Ortega a huge crane working on a church . . . a coffee . . . it's three hours and 15km, but the tank is still full and some chocolate does for lunch . . . a great boon of the walking - chocolate is transformed from a guilty secret to an energy booster . . .
. . . Joe hooks up with Dylan, Francisco and I move on . . . he explains that the weekend is a fiesta in Spain, including Monday . . . Burgos should be fun . . . we discuss the feet issue . . . stones the main problem . . . weight and gravity over extended walking start to cause stress injury . . . body weight, pack weight, good footwear important, but reducing the gravitational pull would really help . . .
. . . I push on, the first solo stretch of the day . . . to Atapuerca, one of the most important archaeological sites in the world . . . Jose-Manuel, a cultured man, had urged me to see it . . . I walk past, a philistine . . . was once in Granada and gave the Alhambra a miss . . . into my stride now, mindfully avoiding stones, up a hill wondering about the light walking . . . the lama who described it didn't reveal how to achieve it . . . start with ohm . . . align with the universe . . . at the top of the climb, puffed out by ohming uphill, rewarded with a big stone spiral maze, then a view of Burgos . . . 2.15 and I can get there in two or three hours . . . if I choose . . .
. . . the sun is out, the view is great, my ankle is fine and I pass a double decker bus covered in a colourful mural, advertising an albergue ahead . . . reminding me of the playbuses I worked on . . . amongst the most rewarding of my many jobs . . . imagine driving up to the day's venue to the smiling faces of the excited waiting children . . . and they paid me . . . this one is going nowhere, they painted it all over . . .
. . . to the municipal albergue . . . Manolo at La Parada has the key and registers me, stamps my pilgrim passport . . . Francisco stops for food, then takes advantage of the afternoon sun's energy boost and heads for Burgos . . . I prefer to arrive in the morning . . . it is less than two hours and I can see some city before moving on to the next alberge . . . wherever that is . . . meanwhile, Manolo is genial, the alberge is warm, the bar has food, wine and wifi and all is well . . .
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