October 5
After a fabulous desayuno, Michelle uses tissue and tape to bandage all my
blisters. They are puffy this morning--perhaps in shock from yesterday?
Altogether, when my boots are on, I feel like I have Frankenstein feet (a
condition that occurs most days to follow). Before we leave, Michelle advises
me to buy paper tape, second skin, and mercurichrome; she scolds me to
absolutely use no more Band-Aids.
When my feet eventually get used to being enclosed and walking, they don't
feel as bad as I had expected. Could be that the pressure is gone from having
been drained. Or, it could be the ibuprofen I'm taking 'round the clock. They
by no means feel good, but I'm walking, which is more than I thought
possible yesterday.
Today there are no quaint villages or lovely scenery to distract me. We
are walking across mesas and high plains--quite a bleak landscape. But that's okay, as there will be few photos for this day--Michelle does not allow recharging,
so my phone is almost out of juice anyway.
Decades of
the rosary work to keep my feet moving and help the time pass. The prayers are
rhythmic, almost hypnotic.
In Hornillos, we buy a bocadilla (like a hero sandwich) because services are
supposed to be scarce today. The shop also sells the back of scallop shells,
which we had never seen before. They are flat. I buy one for each of us.
After we descend the last mesa, we stop for a picnic lunch. Like a good
patient, I check to see if the paper needs to be changed. Things are a
mess--more than I can deal with on the road, without the new supplies. There's
nothing to do but keep walking to our destination, which should be big enough to
have a farmacia.
There is a lot more nothing to see. There are a lot more prayers to say.
Suddenly Castrojeriz appears. As my body weeps with relief, we climb the town
streets to the municipal albergue San Esteban.
Total distance: 27.9 km
Current kitty count: 58
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