Day 4: A Blistery Trek (Espinal to Villava)

Waking up this morning at a spritely 5am I had a foul look on my face, I am HATING this! It's lashing down with rain, my shoulders and legs are killing me and I've got a 25km trek in front of me.

Having grumbled away the morning in 4 long hours of hiking I finally arrived at Zubiri, a small town in the heart of a lushious green (and wet) valley. The only road in and out was the black smear that I had followed for god knows how many kilometres up and down the mountains.

Like a puffing steam train, I staggard into the first cafe I saw and ordered a cappuccino and a can of cola. I must have drank the cola in one gulp and loaded the cappuccino with so much sugar that I should have been able to fly to Villava. The best part of the whole cafe scenario was a small fledgling that the woman behind was looking after in a cardboard box. It had fallen off the roof apparently and his moody little face brought the biggest smile to my face! I put him on my table and lovingly fed him egg yolk with tweezers that the owner gave me - he was so cute, his little tufts of downing feather were adorable!

Just before leaving, and having said goodbye to Charlie (the bird), a French woman asked me if I was doing the Camino in a very broken conversation. She explained that her sons had just done the last 100km and she was going to pick them up. She gave me a good pat on the back and a big smile which fuelled me as I went out of the door with my head a lot higher than it had been on entry.

With renewed vigour and a more optimistic outlook I followed the Arga River for the next few kilometres until crossing a bridge where some young children were jumping off into the water below - they were absolute doots and I couldn't believe that their parents were allowing them to do it!

After that, and another cold coke in the Peligrino Cafe, I found myself walking along a lonely path through country fields and lanes - as usual there wasn't another soul in sight. For a good while I was panicked that I had missed a sign and strayed from the trail. However, my fears were out to rest when I saw a huge pile of horse dung. You don't need the Camino signs so long as horses are up ahead of you somewhere! That being said, there are never any hoof prints on the floor, never. I can only assume that a herd of levitating horses with very lose bowels are somewhere ahead of me.

With 2 o'clock approaching and still not at my destination I sank back into to murky pool of moodiness and foreboding. But, rather strangely and somewhat ignonimously, I embarked on a loud, very loud, singing tour of my Spotify! Really bizarrely, it sent my spirits soaring! So I had to walk 25+ kilometres a day? Add some more on! So it was either lashing down or bakingly hot? Throw in some hail! I can't explain how sing loudly and undoubtedly like a lunatic bouyed me right to the point of staggering into Villava at 3pm. 10 hours of walking later and I'd made it!

Having sewn the snapped strap on my walking pole back together (thanks Sian) I met Peter in my dorm; a 60 year old bloke from London. You heard correctly, from London! After a meal together and a shared bottle of red wine he was persistently complaining of lactic acid build up in the halves and quads. After telling him to stop hinting, he wasn't getting a rub down from me (he didn't laugh), I pulled down my eye mask and gots some winks in for the walk to

Peter - stop hinting Pete, I'm not giving you a massage Puente La Reina tomorrow.