It seems my knee didn't appreciate me walking 33 kms yesterday.

It's got no sense of humour.

Today it expressed its annoyance in the only way it knows how. By being painful.

I left the albergue at 6am, which turned out to be problematic because it doesn't get light here until 7am, and the sun doesn't rise until 7:30am. So the first hour of walking was in pitch darkness. I have a headlamp, so normally it isn't a problem walking in the dark, except this morning the track was on an old Roman road, all broken up with scattered boulders and rocks, and most of it was down very steep hills.

And it was wet and slippery, with a lot of mud. In other words, it couldn't have been worse conditions for my churlish knee.

I was quickly overtaken on the track by three blokes who'd stayed at the alburgue last night. One was a fellow who looked like an ageing hippy. He was in his 60's I guess, although he may have been in his 50s but lived a rock and roll life – that's what he looked like; with his long grey/blonde hair and face full of character, he looked like a roadie, or key grip.

We all stopped for coffee at a small place and I got to talking to him. Turns out he'd been an Emeritus Professor, and Head of the Vet Science Dept at UCLA. This Camino attracts some amazing people.

Anyway I pushed on, limping all the way. And of course I started fixating on all the other physical issues that were arising because of my heavy limp. Like I've now developed a blister on one of my toes. And I have developed shin soreness on the other leg. These start to fall into two camps – are they short term nuisances which I can deal with, or could they develop into longer term physical problems which could stop me getting to Santiago.

The knee falls into the latter category. Here I am with something like 700 kms to go, and I'm limping like a mongrel dog that's been hit by a car. But the way I figure it, if I can keep putting one foot in front of the other, eventually I'm going to get to Santiago.

I'm not worried about permanent damage to my knee. It just means when i get back to Australia, I'll get a Handicapped Parking sticker. Always wanted one of them.

So now I'm in this gorgeous little hilltop village called Villamayor de Monjardin. I have a view of the old church from my bedroom window.

The thing I've learnt about beautiful little hilltop villages – they're on hilltops which means you have to climb to the top of the hill to get to them. And when you leave the next morning in the dark, you have to go down the other side of the hill.

That's one of the more profound things I'm learning on this Camino.