Day 7

I awoke to the pitter patter of rain around 7:30 and unzipped the tent to have a look outside.  Everything outside looked wet (Obviously, its had been raining after all).  My rain sheet had managed to cling to the bag through the storm and my tent had held up well although last night had been nothing compared to the storms that await me in Catalunya that´s for sure.

I sat in the tent wondering what my next move should be, if I get out now everything including my rucksack will get soaked which means I will have wet kit tonight or I can sit in the tent and wait it out which could be all day.  I might also remind you that my tent is just a bivvy, its designed for sleeping and not a prolonged stay, you can hardly move inside.

Having lived in England for the majority of my life and having experience of the powerful afternoon storms in Catalunya/Spain I know that for small periods the rain almost halts at times for two to three minutes when a lighter cloud passes so my idea was to wait until there is a lull and jump out batman style put as many things in the rucksack as possible jump back in and wait for the next lull.
It worked!  After just one hour I was packed and off on my merry way.....  Well i wouldn´t say merry, it was pissing down and I was getting soaked especially my shoes which are not really build to defend a down pour.

So today´s plan was to do a double day, the guide book said day 7 is 20km/5 hours, so my plan was to push to the next town in four hours and a half then have lunch before jumping into day 8  11km/3 hours.  I felt I could cover 31km in that time.

As i trudged through the rain I was becoming disheartened and demotivated, all but two of the days had been miserable and here was another day where taking photos was pointless and walking was mundane without reward.  I wondered to myself why I had chosen this route, at least here in the Basque country...  I knew it would be sunny and hot with afternoon storms in Catalunya, that is more predictable, but rain and near freezing temps in summer?  No way!

It was only when I arrived to the town of Izaba that the rain let up and I was able to rattle off a couple of photos.  I sat in the centre of the town eating my lunch slightly depressed.  My phone and Mp3 player were done, no battery because of the lack of sun for days.  My tablet had maybe one hour of power and I was fucking freezing.

"Give yer head a shake", I thought to myself, "Just get on with it!"......  Once again I was off.
As I threw on the rucksack pain was shooting through my back, no problem!  This happens every day now, i just block it out however, when I climbed the stairs to go back to the main road I felt yet another pull in my Achilles.  At least it was only one, yesterday I had felt it a few times.

As I walked to the edge of the town I met David and Helen who were just arriving.  David took one look at me and said, "Let´s have a coffee and we will move out together.  So that's what we did, we went to a bar and had a few coffees.

I don´t know if it was the warm milk, the caffeine or the company but when we rolled out of that town I was like a new person.  The rain was still hammering down on us but I was driven, driven to arrive at the next camping ground.  You see today was one of my "Special" days, basically I have five of them along my route.  It is a day when I can either stay in a hostel or take a meal in a restaurant.  Tonight I would be staying in a hostel .  As comedic conversation covered the sound of rain David and Helen told me stories of their "Short Cut" routes which had ended in walking much further than anticipated and as we talked and laughed the hours seemed to pass by very quickly until David got us a little lost again at a badly marked section.  With just one hour remaining be started our final ascent.  Only three minutes in and I felt an almighty uncomfortable tug in my Achilles.  and for the next hour I would feel numerous more.  I adjusted my walking style to try and give relief but it was of no use.  As we descended into the camping I was happy I would not feel that tugging again and as evening arrived so did we.

"A hostel!" I thought, "Electricity, I can charge my things.  A shower, I can have a wash. A bed, I can sleep like a baby.  Well, one of them was correct.  I showered for around two hours, not only to eradicate the smell of the last six days but to charge my phone in the only power outlet here.  I also ate my dinner in there.  Not in the shower of course but in the bathroom (My grandma would slap me silly if she knew, fortunately she cant use the Tínternet).  After a beer with David and Helen, David confessed that he had tried to lift my rucksack whilst I was in the Bakery yesterday.  "You have to get rid of some of that weight" he said.  I explained I had dropped a few kilos in town yesterday but I needed to keep some of the things in my rucksack for the moment, I could send them home later if need be.

After finishing our beers at an ungodly 22:15 we all decided to hit the sack, not before I downed some Ibuprofen.

Hostels have a strict policy of lights out and no sound after 22:00 hours which although early is there to let long distance hikers get a good rest before setting out early but also to stop people coming to the mountains for a party.  The first time I experienced this I was on a short hike and didn´t agree with it myself but...  "When in Rome".  It seems lots of Spanish people don´t get this.  I was quit shocked by their simple disregard for the rules well into the night playing music on their phones and basically having a party even when people pleaded with them to stop they were just ignorant about it.  These are the selfie selfish days I suppose.  I wasn´t too bad for me as I sleep like a baby but I woke up a few times to hear them still talking. However soon enough I slipped back into a deep sleep.