Late again: it appears the WiFi in these towns is powered by a small elderly gentleman turning a large wheel on a generator. That gentleman often has toilet breaks (weak kidneys) and goes home early for his dinner most evenings. If I find him, I’ll beat him with my stick and tell him to work harder.

Startpoint: Hontanas; Endpoint: Fromista; Distance walked: 34km; Steps taken: 43,177; Conditions: started with a hint of rain, but never materialised and ended with a lot of sun.

Today was my longest walk so far. I aimed for 21k, added on another 8k when I got there cause I wasn’t tired, then added on another 5 because the place at 8 was a bit of a kip. Arriving in the municipal hostel in Fromista, I was quite proud with the distance we’d walked – not many people would do that distance in one day, I thought. As we walked in we were greeted by about ten people who’d done the same distance, done it faster and had checked in, showered and done their laundry before we got there. A lot of them had beers in their hands; just to mock us.

Today I walked with a man from England. We discussed Pope Francis, car engines, wind turbines, business ethics and walking poles. We also rescued a small mouse from the road, as we were worried he’d get trodden on.

On the walked, I thought I saw the mirage of an Irish flag flying at the top of a hill. From a distance it seemed faint and faded and I wondered was I imagining things. I changed my mind twice or three times between the bottom of the hill and the top. When we finally arrived at the top of the hill, it turned out to be a scruffy old pair of boxer shorts that somebody had tied to an upright stick. For reasons unknown, a small Irish flag had also been attached to the base of the stick, from where it had not been visible from the base of the hill.

At one point, we paused for a rest at a small picnic area, where I bought and ate a banana. While there we got chatting to an Australian/German couple. The four of us had lunch together. As they ate sausages and I ate rice, the topic turned to the ethical disposal of banana skins. The consensus at the table was that any stickers should be removed from the banana skin, before the skin itself be returned to nature to decompose naturally. As I had thrown my own banana skin in the bin, I wondered was I being very gently reprimanded.

We’re currently walking through an area of the Camino, between Burgos and Leon, which is often described as a desert. A lot of people skip it altogether as it’s so flat, empty and boring. What a lot of drivel. The last 5k of today’s walk was a gentle stroll along the banks of a leafy and well-maintained canal. I was very tempted to jump in for a swim to cool down from the hot afternoon sun. However, still smarting from the banana skin affair, I decided it was better to behave myself for the time being to avoid getting in any serious trouble.

Arriving at the hostel today, my sore feet reminded me of an incident yesterday afternoon. A muscly and tattooed Spanish man (he looked like a cross between Captain Jack Sparrow and Fabio) was giving a long, slow foot massage to a tall, slim blonde lady. It looked so nice, I was very tempted to ask Captain Fabio if I could have a foot massage myself, but in the end, I was too shy. I regret that decision. Maybe Cptn Fab would have played ‘this little piggy’ on my toes… I love that game. I left massaging my own feet now, but playing ‘this little piggy’ on your own toes is no fun. The whole element of surprise is missing.

After finding our beds this afternoon, we were warned by a fellow pilgrim that the worst snorers of the walk are sharing our room. We discussed the best methods of waking bad snorers without being found out, but as nobody has a water pistol, catapult or cattle prod with them, we may have to simply poke them with our walking poles. If the snoring is as bad as we’ve been told, I may be too tired to blog tomorrow. If that happens, please just re-read your favourite sections from the last two weeks and consider it a ‘best of’ special.

Buen Camino