I woke up cautiously this morning.

I gingerly got out of bed, and realised that I could still walk. Yesterday's mammoth stretch of 41kms hadn't taken a toll after all. I think the secret was that I'd done some yoga last night before I went to bed, then did some again this morning.

For the first time since Santo Domingo, about 10 days ago, I didn't put on any bandages or creams this morning. I put some Sellick 15 on my feet, to stop friction, but basically I was about to set off today without painkillers, without knee supports, without antibiotic lotions, wihout bandages.

I had some brekkie in a little coffee shop on the outskirts of Sahagun, and then headed out onto the Meseta.

I felt good. No pain. Easy stride.

Today was a special day for me. Let me explain: two years ago, my wife and I drove from Burgos to Leon. We took the motorway, and at times it ran very close to the Camino. I remember looking out at these pilgrims crossing this vast expanse of nothingness,and marvelling.

I knew then that I wanted to walk the Camino.

This stretch is defined by a row of trees beside the path, and that's what I remember – this row of trees, and these pilgrims walking to Santiago.

I also remember that in a car, it was a long way between Leon and Burgos. What was compelling these people to WALK it?

Today I had a choice. I could have walked by the motorway, or I could have taken a more scenic, and easier route. I chose the motorway route.

And a weird thing happened. At one section where the Camino path got close to the motorway, I looked up and saw my car. The same car I'd driven in two years ago. Same make, same model, same colour. (Citroen C5, dark grey.)

I had this extraordinary sense of deva vu.

And I knew then that I had been destined to walk this Way. For whatever reason, I still don't know.

(Short day today – 18 kms. Shortest day I've had so far. Didn't stop early for reasons of pain – no pain. Just found a nice place, and thought I'd stop.)

As I was walking today, I saw this snail on the road. With its big shell and slow pace, I thought ah ha. Perfect visual representation of me walking the Camino.

So I put my camera into super macro, lay down on the road all spreadeagled out, my backpack still on, my sticks abandoned, as I tried to get this shot of the snail with the road and the horizon in the background.

Then I heard all this shouting behind me!

I didn't bother to look at what was going on – I was too intent on getting my shot. But then I heard these heavy footsteps, and huffing and puffing, and more shouting.

I got the shot and turned around. These two blokes were racing up to me.

Oh mein Got, oh mien Got, they said. Do you need ein docktor?

They were two German blokes, and they'd seen me splayed out on the ground and thought I'd collapsed! This was Nolbert and Josef.

As I got to my feet, I thanked them but said that I was just getting a shot of the snail. By this stage a car was coming along the road behind us too, so Nolbert quickly picked up the snail and put it safely on the side of the road.

We had a good laugh. They were both very much relieved. The snail lived, and I got my shot of me!

Today has to be the most glorious days of my walking life.

I didn’t set out to walk 41kms – it just kind of happened. But I have to say, it was truly memorable.

I made a big mistake though with my intuition, but we’ll get to that later.

I woke up late – 7am. And what with my repacking my bag and general rooting around, I didn’t leave Carrion until 8am. The light was flat and uninteresting. High cloud, which once again was fantastic for walking, but uninspiring for photography.

Today was defined by a 17km stretch from Carrion to the next town. No villages in between, which meant no food or drinks. Everyone had stocked up at the supermercado the previous evening, including me. I bought two pears, a huge apple, some sliced ham, some sliced cheese, some dried apricots, and a baguette. Also 750mls of water to augment the 600mls I always carry.

I had a quick coffee at a bar, then another one, then left.

I dawdled leaving town, trying to wrench a half decent photo out of the crap light. I had no set destination – vaguely I was thinking of a town about 27kms away. Of course because I was late leaving, and because I was slow, all my friends had either left before me, or soon overtook me.

But as I got out of town, and the path stretched out ahead, something very strange happened. I realised I had no pain! I was walking freely, and quite swiftly. It was cool, there was no sun, the countryside was breathtakingly beautiful, and I felt great!

I felt the best I’d felt the entire Camino. Because I’d slept in, I was fully rested, but walking without pain was a completely new experience for me. I was walking with the ease and joy and speed that I’d been doing in my training hikes back home.

The other thing about today – I passed the halfway mark!

At around about the pace where I estimated the halfway point was, I felt a small stone drop into my boot. How did that happen, I wondered. It was aggravating my little toe something fierce so I found a place to sit down by the side of the track. I took off my boot, took off my sock, but couldn’t find the damn stone.

I then realised that I had a blister on the bottom of my little toe that was as big as the toe itself! It hadn’t been a stone I’d felt, it was this bulbous blister.

I put some Sellic 15 on it, a lubricant, (thanks Wayfarer!), put my socks back on (liner and Icebreaker merino), put my Asolo boot on again and set off. I wasn’t going to use Compeed after what it did to my heel blister. I was just going to ignore it.

It was as though the Camino, at the halfway point, was throwing one last bouncer at me. (Cricketing term). I let it go through to the keeper. (Another cricketing term.)

I wasn’t going to let a measly blister spoil my wonderful day.

It hurt, for a while, and then when it realised that I wasn’t going to stop and bawl my eyes out, the hurt went away. And I returned to my Pain Free Zone.

I got to the 17km village and kept walking. When I’d stopped to take my boot off, (about 11am), I’d had something to eat, so there was need for me to stop. I was feeling strong, and not at all tired.

At about 1:30pm. I stopped to have some lunch. I sat on the edge of a stone bridge, pulled out my Opinel knife, cut open the baguette and had a sandwich of ham and cheese. There were no pilgrims on the trail. But there were several Cuckoo birds. There have been Cuckoo birds all along the Camino!

Just a side note – most pilgrims stop walking about 2pm each day. That’s when the albergues open, and they like then to do their laundry and relax. So if you’re walking after 2pm or 2:30pm, chances are you’ll have the path to yourself.

I then got to the 27km town, (Terradillos de Templarios) where everyone had stopped, but I was having such a great time walking I decided to keep going. By this time, it was about 3:30pm, and other than the 15 minute blister break and a 15 minute Cuckoo bird break, I’d not stopped and rested.

What kept me going was that the light had become very dramatic. Rain was coming, there were big dark clouds roiling, and it was such a lovely day to walk! i was having a blast!

When some rain did start to fall I stopped and put on my jacket, and my rain cover for my backpack. There were two more villages coming up, and I figured that if I wanted to, i could stay in one of those.

I met up with two sisters from the US, and we walked for a few kms together, but they decided to stay in the albergue in the first village, Moratinos. That to them represented about 30kms for the day.

I kept going. I was still feeling great, the country was looking amazing, and I was still having fun!

I decided to get something to eat in the 2nd village, San Nicolas del Real Camino. In the town’s albergue/restaurant, I ordered a ham and cheese sandwich, and two Diet Cokes with ice.

I got talking to a fellow there, his name was Ben. He was a retired chemical engineer from South Africa, and we very quickly connected, and he started explaining his theories of how there are errors built into the cosmos.

Interesting guy.

I would have liked to talk to him more. And then Boris from Slovakia walked in. Boris and I became friends after I did a video for his daughter telling her what a “true” pilgrim he was!

I had it in my mind though to to go the next town, about 7kms away, called Sahagun. I’d seen pics of this wonderful medieval place, and it called to me.

Big mistake.

I overrode my intuition.

I arrived in Sahagun at 7:30pm. I’d been walking 10 and a half hrs, excluding a total of about an hour during the day for rests. I didn’t walk 41kms to prove anything, I did it because it was so beautiful walking in the afternoon, all by myself, and because I still felt good.

But the walk into Sahagun was ugly, through the commercial zone, and I ended up in a place where the receptionist was rude, and the room has a view of a brick wall.

I should have listened to my intuition and stayed at the previous town, and talked more with Ben and Boris.

All things to take on board, and learn from.

Here is a selection of the pilgrims I met today:

Fernado from Australia and a lass from Romania who had spirited discussion with me on intuition –

Nolbert and Josef from Germany – (more on them in a separate post!)

Two lovely ladies from Alberta Canada, both 68 and ripping it!

Frannie and Lucy from America. Frannie lives on a boat in Sausalito, and Lucy is soon to become a doctor in New Orleans.

Ben, the retired chemical engineer from South Africa.

Again, today was one of the most sublime days of my “walking” life!

I hope I don’t pay for it tomorrow!

Yesterday turned put to be really interesting. As it turned out, the albergue where I stayed is one of the most famous, and celebrated, on the Camino. I know why – it was beautiful. Gorgeous grounds, sculptures and pool, and good food.

I came in late – about 5:30pm – and as I walked in a bloke who I’d met in Pamplona shook his head and said they’re fully booked. They’ve been turning people away, he said. I said I’d just go check, just in case. And they found a bed for me. As the hospitalero ( the person who runs the albergue) was leading me to my room (shared by about 20 others!), the bloke from Pamplona shook his head and yelled out to me: The Camino Gods must be with you Bill.

Now, why did I get a bed when others were turned away? I have no idea. Here are some options:

1. Perhaps the others were in a group and I was alone.
2. Perhaps I looked so pathetic and in pain that they took pity on me.
3. Perhaps it was my Sydney Swans cap and they were Swannies supporters.

I have no idea. But I later started to think – what if I knew at the start of the day that I was heading to one of the great albergues of the Camino? How would that affect my day?

I’d be tense, wondering if I’d get a bed. Wondering if those French dudes passing me were going to beat me to the last beds. I would go fast, I could possibly put undue stress on my body. I could possibly make my injuries worse. I wouldn’t stop and take photos. I wouldn’t see the beauty around me. My whole day would be geared solely towards getting to the cool albergue and making sure I got accommodation.

Now, as it turns put, there was another albergue in Boadilla, but it looked skanky in comparison. But it was a bed. You see, I purposefully haven’t read any reviews or forums about what albergues are the best ones to stay at. As I’ve said, I’m doing this walk with my PGS – my Personal Guidance System – and I’m just letting that plug into The Way, and have it guide me.

So when I walked into Boadilla yesterday, I walked past the skanky albergue, followed my instincts, and ended up at the cool place, where in fact about a dozen of my faster walking friends were already settled. I got my bed, and I had a good meal, caught up with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while, and the hospitaleros even did my washing for me! €6 for the night.

Things could not have worked out better.

But, last night as I was settling down to sleep, I started to freak out. What if I couldn’t get a room tomorrow night? Everyone was descending on this town 25 kms away – Carrion de los Condes. Did it have enough rooms to hold us all?

So I went online and checked hotels in Carrion. There was only one taking bookings – with only 2 rooms left though! – and a single room was €60. I considered it briefly, then went nah. If I’m to do this walk intuitively, then I can’t let my fear take hold. I’ve got to play by the rules.

So I didn’t book the hotel.

The next morning, this morning, everyone was up and out early. The light was exquisite, and I stopped a lot and took photos. I was walking extra slow because this morning I decided to go cold turkey on the painkillers. I’ve been on 600mgs of Ibuprofen 3 times a day for nearly 2 weeks now.

Maybe that explains my grey hair.

I also didn’t put my knee bandage on, and no Voltaren cream. I wanted to see how I went. The first 10kms were great. The last 15kms were painful. Very painful. And of course everyone streamed past me.

I began to wonder – would there be a bed for me in Carrion? Should I have booked that hotel? But my emotional body was testing me. It was playing on my fears, more exposed possibly because of my pain. I deserved a nice bed tonight, I thought. I’m suffering.

What crap.

I don’t deserve anything. And if I’m suffering, then it’s my own stupid fault.

About 4kms out from Carrion, I turned and saw a big group of pilgrims about a km behind me. I found myself going faster, even though it was hurting me to do so. These were the people who were going to take the last beds. These were the people who would have me sleep out in a field under a tree.

Spain may not have deadly spiders, or snakes, or great white sharks, but they have gypsies. And everyone knows that gypsies inhabit the night and steal things off pilgrims sleeping under trees in fields.

What crap, all of it.

I slowed down, and walked into Carrion – a beautiful little town – and left the way-marked path and found myself outside the Santa Clara Monastery. A glorious ancient building.

I walked inside, and they had a bed for me.

Now, consider the Camino as a metaphor for life. Consider how we approach our lives each day with such fear – fear that we’ll miss out on whatever it is we consider important. Imagine how that affects us each day.

Imagine what it must be like if we could release ourselves from that fear…

A quick post of a beautiful Spanish couple in Boadilla del Camino.

Firstly, thank you to everyone who's following my posts, and for those that are leaving messages or sending emails. I'm sorry that I can't get back to ou all straight away. My time each day is very short.

Let me run you through a typical daily schedule:

I wake usually at 5:30am, and it takes me about an hour to pack up everything, and get out the door. I sleep in the clothes that I'll wear that day. Lateslyots taken a little while each morning to deal with my medical issues – reapplying Bentadine and antibiotic cream onto my heel blister, then applying surgical dressings and crepe bandage.

I spray my shin with ice-pack spray. And put Voltaren and a support bandage on my knee. All this in the dark takes a while. I say in the dark because when you're in an alburgue, and you want to get going before 7:30, you have to make allowances for those that want to keep sleeping.

The albergues usually require the pilgrims out though by no later than 8am.

I then start walking, and will stop at the first cafe to get 3 Cafe Contardos, which are like piccolo lattes. If there's no cafe open, then I just walk. I usually like to put in between 2-3 hrs walk before I take my first stop. Depending on how my pain threshold is, that's somewhere around 8-10kms.

I stop a lot and take photos though, because the light at that time of the day is wonderful. After the break at about 10:30am, I then walk through to 1pm. I've made it mandatory that I stop at 1pm, no matter where I am, and have some lunch.

Usually that lunch constitutes a pear, maybe some cheese, an orange sometimes, sometimes some bread. If I'm feeling depleted of energy before lunch while I'm walking, I'll have a muesli bar.

If there's a town nearby, I'll sometime stop and have a sit down meal – a pilgrims lunch. I'll do a separate post on the pilgrims meals, but basically I usually have lentil soup, grilled chicken, and some ice cream. Walking these kms means you don't have to worry about calories!

What I do after lunch depends on how I feel. I usually like to put in a few more hours, and walk through till about 3pm or 3:30pm. Then I find a place to stay, I have a shower, I do my laundry, hang it out to dry, download my photos that I've taken during the day, and then start my blog.

By then it's dinner time, and then sleep. I'm usually out to it by 9:30pm latest, then up again at about 5:30am the next day. At home I don't usually sleep 8hrs – normally it's about 5-6hrs; but when you're walking between 24-30 kms each day with a backpack, sometimes over mountains, it makes you tired!

Today was another wonderful day of walking. I'd made a mistake yesterday – the Meseta started today. Yesterday's country was a precursor.

I bumped into Ivan the Terrible and his wife Giovanna today. They're the lovely Italian couple who'd guided me beautifully into Burgos. As we approached a huge hill that would take us up onto the plateau that was the Meseta proper, Ivan the Terrible told me something an Italian priest had said about the Camino.

The priest had said that the Camino is like your soul journey. The first third is full of mountains and valleys, full of highs and lows, deep emotions. That's your life. The second stage, you ascend to the Meseta, where it's calm, quiet, transcendent. That's death. And the third stage, after the Meseta and from Leon on heading to Santiago, that's your rebirth.

I looked at Ivan the Terrible in horror, then I looked at the track leading up to the start of the Meseta. Bloody hell mate, i said, does that mean I'm climbing up to my death?

He smiled and shrugged, as Italians do, and I stepped aside and let him go first.

(28kms today to Boadilla del Camino. Got the last bed in one of the most perfect albergues on the Camino. When I walked in, at about 5:30pm after walking for nearly 10 hrs today, about a dozen pilgrims clapped me. I felt very embarrassed. They know I'm in pain, and going slowly. They were very sweet. A shorter day tomorrow.)

Firstly, thank you to everyone who’s following my posts, and for those that are leaving messages or sending emails. I’m sorry that I can’t get back to you all straight away. My time each day is very short.

Let me run you through a typical daily schedule:

I wake usually at 5:30am, and it takes me about an hour to pack up everything, and get out the door. I sleep in the clothes that I’ll wear that day. Lately it’s taken a little while each morning to deal with my medical issues – reapplying Bentadine and antibiotic cream onto my heel blister, then applying surgical dressings and crepe bandage.

I spray my shin with ice-pack spray. And put Voltaren and a support bandage on my knee. All this in the dark takes a while. I say in the dark because when you’re in an alburgue, and you want to get going before 7:30, you have to make allowances for those that want to keep sleeping.

The albergues usually require the pilgrims out though by no later than 8am.

I then start walking, and will stop at the first cafe to get 3 Cafe Contardos, which are like piccolo lattes. If there’s no cafe open, then I just walk. I usually like to put in between 2-3 hrs walk before I take my first stop. Depending on how my pain threshold is, that’s somewhere around 8-10kms.

I stop a lot and take photos though, because the light at that time of the day is wonderful. After the break at about 10:30am, I then walk through to 1pm. I’ve made it mandatory that I stop at 1pm, no matter where I am, and have some lunch.

Usually that lunch constitutes a pear, maybe some cheese, an orange sometimes, sometimes some bread. If I’m feeling depleted of energy before lunch while I’m walking, I’ll have a muesli bar.

If there’s a town nearby, I’ll sometime stop and have a sit down meal – a pilgrims lunch. I’ll do a separate post on the pilgrims meals, but basically I usually have lentil soup, grilled chicken, and some ice cream. Walking these kms means you don’t have to worry about calories!

What I do after lunch depends on how I feel. I usually like to put in a few more hours, and walk through till about 3pm or 3:30pm. Then I find a place to stay, I have a shower, I do my laundry, hang it out to dry, download my photos that I’ve taken during the day, and then start my blog.

By then it’s dinner time, and then sleep. I’m usually out to it by 9:30pm latest, then up again at about 5:30am the next day. At home I don’t usually sleep 8hrs – normally it’s about 5-6hrs; but when you’re walking between 24-30 kms each day with a backpack, sometimes over mountains, it makes you tired!

Today was another wonderful day of walking. I’d made a mistake yesterday – the Meseta started today. Yesterday’s country was a precursor.

I bumped into Ivan the Terrible and his wife Giovanna today. They’re the lovely Italian couple who’d guided me beautifully into Burgos. As we approached a huge hill that would take us up onto the plateau that was the Meseta proper, Ivan the Terrible told me something an Italian priest had said about the Camino.

The priest had said that the Camino is like your soul journey. The first third is full of mountains and valleys, full of highs and lows, deep emotions. That’s your life.

In the second stage, you ascend to the Meseta, where it’s calm, quiet, transcendent. That’s death.

And the third stage, after the Meseta and from Leon on heading to Santiago, that’s your rebirth.

I looked at Ivan the Terrible in horror, then I looked at the track leading up to the start of the Meseta. Bloody hell mate, i said, does that mean I’m climbing up to my death?

He smiled and shrugged, as Italians do, and I stepped aside and let him go first.

(28kms today to Boadilla del Camino. Got the last bed in one of the most perfect albergues on the Camino. When I walked in, at about 5:30pm after walking for nearly 10 hrs today, about a dozen pilgrims clapped me. I felt very embarrassed. They know I’m in pain, and going slowly. They were very sweet. A shorter day tomorrow.)

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.

This is an additional post to the previous Day 13 – it’s about my visiting the Burgos Cathedral.

Having previously visited the Cathedrals in Leon, Santiago and Burgos, for me Burgos is the most magnificent. It’s up there with Chatres, The Notre Dame, and St. Paul’s. Celebrated company, I know, but as Cathedrals go, it’s a cracker.

My wife and I had been there two years earlier, and happened to visit during the induction of a bishop or something. It was morning, and i remember the light was shafting down in golden beams, and the cathedral was full of beautiful organ music and the colour and pageantry of religious ritual.

Something to remember.

When I went in yesterday, it was quite late in the day – it was dark, there were tour groups clumping everywhere, and it seemed like a different place. Also, when I’d bought my ticket I was told I only had about 45 minutes before they closed. So I felt rushed. The Burgos Cathedral is the kind of place where you need to take your time.

I wandered around, avoiding the tour groups, and walked into a large alcove off the main chamber. A kind of chapel. Immediately I stepped into that space, I sensed there was something going on in there that I didn’t quite understand, but that it would be my reason for visiting the cathedral.

I was the only person in there, and I was facing a huge and high wall of religious iconography and imagery – sculptures and paintings. In front were two large marble tombs.

But at the base of the tombs was a star, on the floor. It was patterned out of white and black paving stones, and looked like it was centuries old.

I’m always fascinated by what’s on the floors of major religious buildings. I remember a particular stone in the floor of the Angkor Wat temple, in Cambodia. The stone was the spiritual centre of the whole extraordinary temple, and when you stood on it, you felt the energy of the place course through you.

So I stood on this star.

And I felt a similar thing happen.

I looked up, and right above me, directly above me, way way up, was another star, and it was letting in light from the very top of the cathedral. It was focusing energies down from the cosmos through to that star on the floor.

I felt it enter my crown chakra and go straight through me. And then I knew why I’d come to that Cathedral. It was extraordinary. I just stood there, eyes closed, and let that energy swirl through me.

And then I turned away and left. Because that was why I’d come. To stand on that star.

Here’s the thing – we can step on that star whenever we want, in our day to day lives, if we know how. I don’t. I have to walk 300 kms with blisters and sore knees to get there.

A side note – and personal –

Two years ago, when my wife and I were visiting Burgos, we had dinner in a beautiful little restaurant overlooking the Cathedral. Last night I went to that same restaurant, went to the same table, ordered the same meal, then got the waitress to take a picture which I then emailed back to my wife.

My wife was suitably unimpressed, of course.

Why didn’t you go to some place cheaper, she said.

(The view from “our” table.)

Here’s where I slept last night – a beautiful little albergue in Ages, about 25kms from Burgos.

The way I approach where I’m going to spend the night is totally intuitive. I don’t check out the reviews online, or the blogs or forums. I lob into a town, figure this is where I’m going to stop, then I look around for the right place.

And it calls to me.

For instance, yesterday I was going to stay at San Juan de Ortega, which would have represented 24 kms walking for the day. I got there though, and I was pretty knackered, and I saw this big beautiful old stone building, but it didn’t call.

Everyone else I knew who’d set off from Belorado, where I spent the previous night, was going to stay there. And believe me, I was tempted, because I was aching all over, but the place didn’t feel right.

So I kept walking.

The next town was Ages, only 3.5kms away, but at the pace I was walking, that was another hour, and part of it was down a very steep hill. But when I arrived in Ages, I immediately felt I’d got to the right place.

The first albergue I saw looked good, so I walked in and was greeted warmly by this gorgeous Spanish lady. She had kind twinkling eyes, and she immediately made me feel like I’d landed in the right place.

And I had. My room was beautiful, she took care of all my laundry, and I had a great dinner that night, and a good breakfast the following morning.

I later ran into some people who’d stayed at San Juan, and they said it was the the worst night of their journey.

I can’t explain it. So far I’ve only ever had magnificent accommodation, and with wonderful caring people. But I’m not structuring it. I’m doing no planning. I’m approaching this absolutely intuitively.

Now, this is a huge change for me, because usually when I travel I pre plan everything way ahead. I check out all the reviews, I make sure I get the best place for the best price, and I leave nothing to chance.

On the Camino though, I’m letting The Way guide me.

Interestingly, at the dinner table last night was a bloke from Canada who I’d met very briefly at a little eatery in Valcarlos on the very first day. Valcarlos was a small village part way up the Pyrenees, on the way to Roncesvalles. As it turned out, it was from Valcarlos on that it got seriously gnarly.

Anyway, he made the observation that I was a completely different person last night to the person he’d spoken to nearly a fortnight earlier. He said at Valcarlos, I was tense and agitated. Last night I was calm and relaxed.

I told him that at Valcarlos, I was probably tense because I was anxious about what was coming up. I had built up in my mind that haul up the Pyrenees into something quite terrifying. Plus I was jet lagged. I’d flown in from Australia the previous day, and had been awake since 2:30am.

But that aside, I took on board what he said, and wondered if the Camino had been doing some genetic re-engineering in the past fortnight. I feel as though it has.

Today was one of the great days to walk.

Cloud, cool breeze, beautiful country, and at the end of the days walk, one of the great cities of Spain – Burgos.

I went very slowly today. Stopped and took photos regularly. I love the way they stack the hay bales here. I love the textures, and the farmers’ valiant attempts at structure and order, which are forever compromised by the exigencies of nature.

I was passed by two blokes who’d been in my albergue in Pamplona, when I was having real problems with my knee. They were surprised that I’d got so far. They asked if I was going through to Santiago, and I said they’d have to carry me off the Camino in an ambulance before I gave up on Santiago.

Later, I regretted saying this.

Whilst it was a joke, words are powerful. They carry intentions. Powerful intentions. The Universe doesn’t know if you’re joking. It can’t tell. All it gets is that Bill Bennett wants to be carried off the Camino in an ambulance. And, given that the Universe ultimately wants you to get what you want, it might well work towards me being carried off the Camino in an ambulance!

So I had to do some affirmations to tell the Universe that this in fact wasn’t what I wanted – what I wanted was to have an easy and pain free journey through to the end.

You may not believe this stuff, but I do.

The rest of the walk into Burgos was glorious. I met a wonderful Italian couple who guided me along an alternative route, avoiding all the industrial outskirts and traffic and noise. Instead, they took me through a series of parks, which were beautiful and tranquil.

Ivan, his name was (his father named him after the movie, Ivan the Terrible, which was evidently a very big movie in Italy when he was born!) had done the walk into Burgos the previous year, and knew all the shortcuts.

Here’s the thing, I’d been anxious about the last 10kms into Burgos, because I’d read that the traffic was horrible, it was all on main roads, and it was unpleasant. Even the main guide book suggested that pilgrims take a bus to avoid all the chaos.

Yet this bloke, Ivan the Terrible (and his wife Giovanna,) guided me effortlessly into Burgos. They were even prepared to go at my slow limping pace.

I’d said to a couple of people that if a bus pulled up beside me with BURGOS on the front, and the door swished opened and the driver asked me if wanted to hop aboard, I’d do it. But I also said that I’d let The Way guide me.

And it did.

I’m now staying in the Municipal albergue for €5 for the night, (it’s just around the corner from the magnificent Burgos Cathedral), and tomorrow I step out onto the dreaded Meseta. The Messta is a stretch of about 200 kms between Burgos and Leon – and it’s dreaded by some because it’s a long flat largely featureless plain with few villages, hardly any vegetation and shade, and it can have ripping winds and bitter weather.

Some people say it’s mind numbingly boring. Many pilgrims I’ve spoken to have said that they’re going to skip the Meseta altogether and get a bus from Burgos to Leon.

Not me.

For me, this is where the Camino really kicks in. This is where I’ll have the time and the space for real contemplation.They’d have to carry me off in an ambulance for me to miss the Meseta.

Ooooopppps.