The night in the albergue was so fantastic that I ended up sleeping on the couch in the dining room again. The owners had decided to turn off the ventilation, so by midnight I was soaked like a sponge. There were 50 of us in one big room. Body temperature? Let’s say around 36 degrees per person. You do the math. It was pure stale air and sweat. Despite the bad sleep, my legs felt like they were ready for the Olympics. Yesterday’s pain had completely disappeared, and I kicked my pace into seventh gear. On top of that, the weather was perfectly cloudy – my favourite kind of day. I love this kind of Camino. I was genuinely impressed by my own strength and speed. Even the climbs didn’t mess with my back. I couldn’t stop smiling, like a kid on a playground. It was unforgettable. So many personal records on one stage, I’m not sure I’ll ever top it.
And if no one’s been impressing me lately, then I’ll damn well impress myself. I finished the trail from Irun – the official start – to Santiago in just 24 days. From Biarritz, where I started, it took me 25 days. I also managed to break the 50 km mark multiple times, which was one of my goals. Those are the moments you push beyond your limits and end up just grinning like an idiot, realising you're capable of more than you thought – if your will is strong enough. Just like you pat your dog on the head and say, "Good boy", I patted my legs and said: "Good girls."
While I’d mostly walked alone on previous days, today I passed at least 500 people. All of them were dressed in fresh-smelling clothes, drenched in fabric softener and perfume. Women with full make-up, perfect hair, manicured nails, taking selfies at every milestone showing how many kilometres are left to Santiago. Barf. And the men in pastel pink shirts, carrying 100-gram backpacks like they’re allergic to weight. My soul was screaming. Honestly, if you can’t carry your own gear for 100 km, don’t bother. They hand off their bags to “sherpas” (read: taxis). Absolute disgrace to the male species. Just walk 100 km around your block at home and spare us all the drama. I wouldn’t even pack a backpack for 100 km. They walk like they’re at a funeral – slow and depressed. I mean, I get it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t mock them and roll my eyes.
This isn’t the Camino de Santiago anymore – it’s Camino de Money.
Whenever possible, I picked roads along the highway to avoid this herd. It felt like rush hour on Celovška street[1] mid-week. Pure stress.
Anyway, I’ve got two bus tickets booked for Finisterre. That’s where I’ll enjoy a luxurious 69-hour rest: sleep, recover, and deal with the blister that decided to show up today. And of course, it formed in the worst possible spot, especially for today's rocky trail. Hurt like hell, but it didn’t stop me. The only thing that could’ve stopped me today was a car or a cyclist running me over.
As quickly as I entered Santiago, I left it even faster. I’ll be back on Sunday evening, and the next day I’ll head off again towards new victories. Next up: the walk to Finisterre and then the full length of Portugal. We'll be in touch in the coming days. Best regards.
[1] Celovška cesta, also known as Celovška Street, is a major thoroughfare in Ljubljana, Slovenia, extending northwest from the city centre. It's a vital artery, connecting various neighbourhoods and serving as a key route for both local and intercity traffic.
