It is day 11 and I´m in Burgos. The blisters have morphed into snake skin. My random collection of tweaks, tingles and aches are just another roadside attraction. I try to listen to my body´s whispewrs to avoid screams later on. Many perigrinos have had to drop out because joints turned to jello. I´ve settled down to a steady 25k a day, my 20lb pack is not a problem, although it couls be 5lb lighter if i had the latest adventure wear - that said, nobody dies when you shop at the Sally Ann.
We are like Kerorac´s dhrama bums, meeting up each evening at the next water hole. There was Polish Peter with his 30kilo pack - I told him there are no luggage racks on a hearse, he then served me hot coffee from his pack along with chunk of chocolate. John, the sound engineer from Toronto, Sabrina who has walked from Germany, a 73 year old frenchman whoes has already clocked 3800km this year, a 14 year old Korean girl striding along with her dad. All the wonderful untidiness of humanity stompin´along with a little help from tinto and tynanol.
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