Firstly, last night’s dinner was a disappointment. Ho-hum paella to start. Main course was one fried egg, some sort of over-done “cow-beef” and soggy chips. I had two orders of the main course. I needed fuel, however basic.
This is what I got. Twice…
I had a room to myself with its own loo and shower. Quite the treat – until I tried to use it. The loo was cleverly wedged into a corner: I had to reverse then sit, pivot and swing my legs around, and then almost sit with them up at my chin in a “half-crunch” posture. Makes for quick work. The trouble with the shower itself was that it was so small that to reach down to soap my ass or legs, I had to open the shower door to give my elbow room to move, as the dimensions just didn’t work otherwise. Perhaps TMI here?
The beds were kiddie beds. I can’t be described as “tall” at 5ft 10in, but my head hit the headboard and my feet were over the end. Still, I slept well. I wouldn’t book this crib again and when I get round to rating all the places I’ve stayed, this will certainly be lower on the list.
Today’s 31km felt a lot longer than the distance might suggest. There were a lot of repeated ascents and descents to tax the legs. With the exception of two breaks where I came across some familiar faces, I was once again solo. Maybe company over the prior day had “softened” me. Need to be disciplined.
Not much more I can really say about the journey today. Trails. Asphalt. Sun. Greenery. Hamlets. Trails. Cows. Sun. Goats. Trails. Greenery. Asphalt. Destination. At my Pintin rest stop, I did see Canadian Alex and French Stan, his travel partner whom I completely failed to recognise from the dormitory in Hospital Orbigo. Mea culpa again, Stan. They’ve got a little posse together (Canada, France, Italy – like a mini-NATO) and are probably headed past Sarria to Vilei.
Tomorrow, I’m back to the early start regimen. Starting 0630-0700 just feels too late and typically has me walking until 1500-1530 with 30-35km segments. I much prefer 0500-0530 and a bit of dark, “quiet-time” with an earlier finish. Gotta listen to the internal Circadian chitter-chatter.
It’s 1800. I’m off to stretch the legs then retire early. Doris is at Glyndebourne with Numpty and Maidrian, and is clearly more interested in her Pimms than in my progress. They’re pretending to be knowledgeable and cultured patrons of the arts, and no doubt over-achieving as pretentious gits. Gotta be good at something, right?
Mwah!