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History favours the bold – Bob.
Another tough day of walking.
The previous night at the Ermita at San Nicolas I had woken in the early hours to hastily limp to the toilets to vomit up the wonderful Italian meal which we had all shared the previous evening. I didn’t want to mention this in my previous post because the reader might link my sickness to the meal served; no-one else was sick and I am 100% sure that I had been suffering from a general stomach sickness in recent days.
The walk into Fromista was tough – having to rest every few kilometres – but I finally made it in and uploaded my previous post.
The walk out of Fromista was equally as tough, if not tougher; made tougher due to the intensity of the afternoon sun. I felt sick, weak, exhausted. I couldn’t imagine the path ahead. Every few kilometres I stopped for a rest – laying down my rucksack and guitar and wondering whether I should simply camp for the night at the spot and walk on in the morning. The problem was that there was little shade on the walk out of Fromista (post photo). Very little shade on a monotonous path which obsessively hugged the road.
In the early evening, when storm clouds had began appearing, I decided to stop for the night in the last village before Carrion de los Condes: Villalcazar de Sirga.
Originally I thought I’d simply crash out on the steps of the church, but as I rounded the main square of this sleepy village a familiar face showed and Simone recommended I sleep at the donativo albergue which is located on the little village main square:
After a brief check in I lay my sleeping bag on my bed and sat in the kitchen with Simone; watching the rain through the kitchen window while he finished off his pasta:
It was a good night’s sleep – I managed to locate my ear plugs before hitting the hay – and I awoke in the morning feeling fresh and ready for the walk ahead. The walk ahead in another day of intense sunshine heat.
Walking out of the village I eyed this unfortunate fellow, fixed in time in this sleepy village in the middle of relative nowhere:
The morning sun on the Meseta, highlighting the kilometres ahead on the journey to the tomb of Saint James:
Arriving at Carrion de los Condes at around 8am I was immediately reminded of where I had stayed here last summer, at the (recommended) Monasterio de Santa Clara:
Today I feel stronger.
I can see the path of the Camino stretching out in my mind and in my will.
Tonight I plan an overnight walk and under the strength of the full moon.
I am still without tobacco and now after 72 hours my body has successfully completed the physical challenge of freedom of addiction to this disgusting drug of choice.
I feel at times suffocated by the Meseta; the heat, flat expanse and thin air can have this effect.