Today I learnt some big lessons. Let me explain:

I’ve written before about not planning anything, just intuitively letting The Way guide me to where I should be, where I should stay. Today as it turned out,I really put this to the test.

The municipal albergue at Burgos was packed overnight, and I was woken early by pilgrims packing up and hitting the road before daylight. It seemed that everyone was scared about not getting accommodation tonight. There are only a couple of small towns in this first section of the Meseta, and not many beds.

I was very relaxed about it all. I got up about 6:30am, took my time packing up, and left about 7:30am. It was a beautiful walk out of Burgos, following parkland, but I got a work call which distracted me, and I missed a crucial way marker. Consequently I walked about 1.5kms before I realised I was lost. I walked back, found the track, but noted that I’d put an extra 3 kms on my mileage today because of my inattentiveness.

It took about 10kms before I started to get into the start of the Meseta – but immediately the county changed and it was sublime. Long rolling hills, clumps of white rocks, long winding tracks. It was beautiful weather for walking too – not one single cloud in the sky, a cooling breeze, and the sky blue as blue.

My shin soreness had been problematic – I was in a fair amount of pain for most of the morning, but then either the drugs kicked in, or my body simply got used to the pain, and I began to get a rhythm going. I was going slowly, stopping and taking photos, and averaging only about 3kms per hour.

At about 2:30pm, after walking about 23 kms, I got to where I intended to stay he night – a village called Hornillos del Camino. I realised that I’d been walking since 7:30am and hadn’t stopped for a break. I’d stopped to take photos, but hadn’t actually stopped, taken off my backpack, and taken a breather. That meant I’d been walking 7hrs straigh

I was tired and hungry, so I went into the pub and had a meal, figuring I’d check into the alburgue after that. But a lovely couple from Berkley who I’d met earlier walked in, sat at adjacent table, and told me the town was fully booked. There was not a bed to be had anywhere.

During the walk, I’d been thinking about fear. About the pilgrims who’d left early that morning, scared that they wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep. And I started to think: that must affect their whole day. They would be walking in fear the whole day, and would consider anyone overtaking them as being someone who could be depriving them of a bed. How could they see the beauty around them, how could them stop and look at a church, or an old building? They’d be so intent on getting to their town so they could grab a bed.

And I started to think of how fear rules so much of our lives, every day. Fear of lack. Fear of deprivation. Fear of difference. Fear of change.

Anyway, that’s all well and good, but here I was in this pub, it was 3pm now, and I had nowhere to sleep. The next town was 12 kms away. With the way I was walking, that was about 4 hrs, which without stopping would put me into the next town at 7pm. That’s almost 12 hours walking for the day.

But, I’d just had a good meal, and the way I figured it, the worst that could happen is that I’d to to sleep in a field somewhere. Pull out my sleeping bag and sleep under a tree. In Spain it’s not like Australia – there’s no deadly snakes, spiders, crocodiles or sharks. What could harm me?

So I set off at 3:30pm.

The path was incredible – through some truly glorious country. And strangely, my pain left me. I started to walk with an ease, and a speed, that I’d not experienced before on the camino. And it occurred to me that pain exists within tension. I’d lost my tension. I didn’t care where I ended up for the night. I’d figured out the worst – I’d sleep under a tree. So being relaxed dissipated the pain. It was incredible.

I found that I was walking 5 kms an hour. And surging up hills.

I made it to the village in under 3 hrs. 12 kms. I couldn’t believe it. Not only that, but the village was one of those picture postcard villages. I checked into a Casa rural – for €30 for the night I got a huge room, a luxurious bathroom, and a view out my skylight of the medieval church across the road. I’d done 34 kms for the day.

It couldn’t have worked out better. Because I’d been relaxed about it. Because I’d refused to walk with fear.

The Camino will always provide.