Startpoint: Sahagun; Endpoint: Reliegos; Distance walked: about 31km; Steps taken: no idea, probably about 40,000 – the pedometer first said 88888 and then said 0.

Today was a long day. The Camino splits shortly after Sahagun. My book of maps recommends leaving the main highway and taking the old roman road which shows off the beauty of the Meseta region. This option, it says, also allows the pilgrim to see some Great Bustards and Hoopoes. Never having seen even a mediocre bustard, I thought this was my chance. (They’re types of birds apparently, but just small brown chirpy ones – nothing sexy or fun).

What my book of maps did not explicitly point out, is that the old roman road is a rough stony country track and that the beautiful Meseta offers minimal shade, no villages and no food for seventeen kilometres. Luckily, I was prepared for this: I had a huge bag of nuts, some raisins and a banana in my bag. Bear Grylles has nothing on me.

As I marched through the stony mud of the roman road, I imagined myself walking in the footsteps of legionaries from two thousand years ago, before Saint James (just), before the cathedral and before the pilgrimage. Then I came across some tyre tracks and remembered I was just walking through someone’s farm.

I remembered an incident from a few nights ago in Burgos, when I’d been having a beer on my own and Bob Dylan came on. “How does it feel, to be on your own, a complete unknown, like a rolling stone”, and I thought ‘pretty good, Bob, pretty good’. I sang Rolling Stone to myself as I walked. I couldn’t see anyone ahead of me or behind me, so I sang at the top of my voice. Then I sang some Pink Ffloyd for some variety. I wonder what the romans did for entertainment with Dylan and Pink Ffloyd to sing? Poor bustards.

At one point, a small bird perched on an old gate post and watched me as I walked and sang. He seemed to enjoy it. I appreciated the company, so threw him a few raisins. He ignored them. I looked closely to see if he was a Hoopoe or Bustard, but I don’t think he was. ‘Just some kind of tit’, I thought to myself. The bird looked at me in a way that suggested he was thinking the same about me.

While singing loudly, I passed a large bush on the path and a pilgrim eating his lunch in the shaded shouted ‘Buen Camino’. I stopped singing after that.

Later in the afternoon, as I began to get hot and tired and my water started getting low, the path split. There were no signs to show the way and my map-book was too vague to be of any use. I took my best guess and kept walking, hoping I wouldn’t get lost and keeping my eyes peeled for the yellow arrows or scallop shells that usually show the way, but I saw nothing. But while scanning the vegetation, I saw something else: toilet paper! Someone has been here, I thought, and used this bush as a loo! Perfect, I realised, like a modern version of Hansel + Gretel, I can follow the used loo paper trail all the way home and I started off again more confidently. And it wasn’t just loo roll: an orange skin here, a sweet wrapper there, occasionally a water bottle. The Camino is not badly littered, but there was just enough to know you’re on the right track. I played the good pilgrim and added my own marker to the trail, but throwing my banana peel into the bushes but close enough to the path to still be visible.

Later again, I found a stone picnic table under a shady tree and treated myself to a siesta. I woke to find myself being overtaken by another pilgrim. Knowing it was getting late and that we were close to Reliegos, I started walking again as quickly as I could. The earlier pilgrims get the lower bunks. I only caught him as we entered the town, but luckily he took a wrong turn, so I got to the Albergue first. Result! I checked in and was led to my bed: the final top bunk in an already full room. He was given the next free bed: a bottom bunk in a totally empty room. Lesson of the day: I should have continued my siesta under the tree.

Buen Camino