A heatwave suicide attempt. Failed again. A 57-kilometre day where you test yourself to see whether you'll survive or drop dead from walking in the sun all day long. That glue really worked, and I was able to walk pain-free all the way to my destination. Long walks are always a pleasure for me—if only the sun doesn’t show off too much. But today it did. Since I already had a reservation, there was nothing to do but grit my teeth and drag myself there despite the heat. The one and only enemy here is the blazing sun. If you only walk one stage per day, you won’t suffer. But if you’re doing two? You’re basically in a crematorium. I’m not complaining—I just want to paint the picture of what it’s like when your ambition outweighs everything else on the Way. Around 1 p.m., the trail hits boiling point and you become a dripping colander, begging for shade that doesn’t exist. Your life starts hanging by a thread, the headache and numb arm making that loud and clear. You ask yourself how much your body can really handle—will it hold out until the end? These aren’t pleasant moments, but they make you feel alive. And when you finally do reach the end, you’re proud of yourself for listening to your body—even if you’re completely wrecked by the heat—you still made it, alive.
My left foot felt phenomenal that day, and I basically flew through the stage until kilometre 50. Then came the granite cobblestones that kill your soul and body. The Berliner said that whoever invented that crap should be strung up. Walking on that stuff feels like stepping on a pile of LEGO bricks. When I got to the albergue I’d booked, I almost didn’t get a bed—again. Even though I’d spoken with the owner earlier that day and told him I was on the way but had to wait for the boat to take me across to the other side. I had to wait for an hour in insane heat, so I went to cool off at a tennis club. The boat ride was quick, the speed and wind bringing sweet relief. It hit the spot. After that, another 17 kilometres in the blazing sun. Anyway—I got my bed. But the bathroom had no light, so I had to shower with my eyes closed and wash the clothes I’d worn that day. Something new, I guess. Even if it’s never again.
I didn’t sleep well. I kept waking up during the night, which means my mind is already drifting back to work and the biggest life decision I’m facing right now—whether to shut down the studio for good or keep pushing a little longer. My brain’s back in full throttle.
