Strange blur of a day. An amazing morning, good breakfast, words with my father in New Zealand, and a tremendous speed south and down. I roll over kilometre 4000 and don’t notice for the joy of riding this morning.
Valdiego and Mengar, with its huge church and swarm of starlings screeching, Osorno, Carrion des Condes, pass by before lunch.
The road flattens and the day dulls, along the French Way of the Caminho de Santiago. Lunch is more of a fuel stop than a meal. The route is exposed and hot and I find no rest in the fly infested shade.
Still the Caminho is good for company, and I cycle and talk to several pilgrims. But the day is for travel and not pleasure, to make distance not friends.
Sagohun, The Caminho is business here, and the pilgrims a necessary annoyance. So i leave the town, cutting short my rest, and finishing my beer quickly, feeling a little jaded. And maybe its because, If I were to be completely honest, is that along this main route, I am not as unique.
Rain approaches, I can see drifts of it in shards of sunlight. And when it does pour down, I will have to wash myself in it. The wind picks up too. Its strong, crazy weather, great gusts of wind, beautiful sunset, spattering of large rain drops, a wounded bird that watches me cautiiously from a tree. Huddled in my flapping tent.
And it passes. I have cycled hard, and am close to Leon. 130km today.
