The forecast was grim again today, which meant we could treat ourselves to a bit more sleep. We kicked off the walk around 7 a.m. with a long descent. No rain, but fog again – visibility was shit, so of course I managed to miss the bloody yellow arrow that marks the route. Because I fucked up, I had to climb back up the hill – yeah, my favourite good morning. The wrong turn didn’t rejoin the Camino, so there was no way around it. And as luck would have it, the rain started. Didn’t really bother me though – I was dressed for it and there was no wind. That bastard is the true enemy. It can break your will like nothing else. Back in 2016, I walked this same stretch and had beautiful views of the mountains – this year, just fog and trail. A path you just want to power through with headphones on to make it bearable. I knew it would be the last day I could enjoy being alone. From tomorrow, it’s straight into Dante’s 8th and 9th circles – the herd. The last 100 km, where it gets claustrophobic. Sarria is where the crowds join in, trying to bag their holy certificate for walking the last 100 km to Santiago. That bloody piece of paper. It was also the last night sharing accommodation with Andrea and Tanguy. I wanted to walk the last 70 km alone – all in one go. My final challenge. I wanted to see if I could do it, mentally and physically.
A few days ago, the French guy said he’d join me but then changed his mind because of pain in his thigh. Andrea was like, “Nah, that’s madness. I’ll take it Italian-style – nice and easy.” But of course, on our last night together, he changed his mind. He decided to reach Santiago on Friday, not Saturday – which means two days of 50 km. The French guy went for 40 km and then a final 60. My plan: 30 km first day, then a killer 70 km on the final day. Over our last beer, I joked with the Frenchman that he’d change his mind – because no French guy wants to be the one who said NO to a girl. His reply? “Fuck you, Tina.” Gotta hit people where it hurts sometimes. We made another bet: if he changes his mind, he owes me a gin and tonic. If not, I owe him one in Santiago. That day I gave him my magic cream – he was raving about it, pain gone and walking felt great again. Told him to keep it, I didn’t need it anymore. I’m near the end – if I walk in pain for two more days, so be it. Two days is nothing compared to the 21 from 2016.
