Like many pilgrims on the Camino, I’m starting to lose track of the days. What is the date? What’s the day of the week? Time slows when you walk across the landscape.

Sometimes I cross over a highway and see the trucks on their way to deliver goods, or people on their way to work, and it seems like a faraway life. 

My immediate sounds are bees humming in the honeysuckle, birds singing from the grass and the ash trees. Cars and planes make their motorized presence known from a distance, and only once in a while.

Today I had a scare. The gravel and dirt path opened out onto a relatively quiet country highway for about 200 meters. I could see the symbol of the scallop shell down the road on the other side indicating the way. But as I was going around a sharp curve of the highway, a swarm of motorcyclists came zooming around the corner, and I had to duck behind the guard rail. On the other side of the guardrail was a wall with a drop of about 50 meters. I could see the motorcyclists leaning into the guard rail. One of them got so close I could look into his eyes.

But here I am in a hotel, with ice on my knee and ankle. For the first time in nine days I’m not sleeping in the same room with at least five other people. Tonight I’m resting in a place with my own bathroom! 
I’m splitting the cost and sharing time with a fellow pilgrim, which is very nice. In medieval times there where all kinds of pilgrims. Some even paid others to do the pilgrimage for them! So today I am treating myself to the luxury of a nice bath and a good rest.