I walked the whole day on my own. I had animated conversations with dead relatives. It was tranquil and peaceful. Very much in the moment. I can’t remember when I felt as relaxed as this. No tension. Just one foot after the other.
I got this randomly from www.lifehack.org
“If you are depressed, you are living in the past.
If you are anxious, you are living in the future.
If you are at peace, you’re living in the present” Lao Tzu
Which leads me to…..moan for the day: cyclists. Fucking cyclists. Oh, the mood-swings. Mountain-bikers to be accurate. The world over, bug-eyed, spandex bandits peddle with an air of entitlement (fuck you, stop signs don’t apply to me ‘cos “I’m a cyclist!”) because they choose a vulnerable mode of transport and expect us all to compensate for their lack of awareness, attention and discipline (sorry NH, I know you are the exception). Same on the Camino.
They come upon you quickly and quietly and then WHOOSH, they whiz by you. Just. They don’t give pedestrians the distance that drivers are required to give them – ‘cos they’re “cyclists”. And, no bell! No bell!! Why no bell?? It would be so much easier if the etiquette (and law) required a bell. Ding, ding! “On your left” (translated version). All is good. I may have a wet dream that involves clothes-lining one of these fuckers. Just for shits and giggles. Om, shanti Om.
Tomorrow, it is 22km from Puente la Reina to Estella. Limited changes in elevation, but I will leave early (not to win the race, Doris) but because the outlook is for temperatures creeping up and I want to be done earlier rather than later. Also, tomorrow is my last day to enjoy “the water of life”. Thereafter I plan to be dry until I see Doris, Numpty and Maidrian in Grasse on (hopefully) 26th August. Sobriety seems appropriate for a ‘pilgrimage’ but if anyone can cite evidence to the contrary, I’ll be an eager-adopter.