After a very foolish late start on day 1, my new Camino de Santiago companion, Sharron, and I tried to get an early start on the day. The key word here being ‘tried’.

We did deserve a little sleep in after such a wild night out hiking through slug-lands and witches forests after all…

we got up and desperately started our search for food. Skipping dinner after hiking through to Pyrenees sure leaves you with an intense morning appetite.

Now I generally stick to a plant-based diet but due to an annoying intolerance for gluten I had decided I would be eating eggs and fish when necessary to have easy access to the energy I desperately needed on this significantly more active than usual adventure.

This was the day I had my first Spanish tortilla (AKA the Spanish omelette). The first of many. Too many. Don’t ever put a tortilla in front of me again.

A tortilla has three main ingredients: egg, potato and oil. Mmmmmm…

But that morning it was the tastiest thing that had ever touched my soul lips. I was very, very hungry.

Paired with a coffee and fresh orange juice I was fuelled for the day. And it was set to be a hot one.

We had picked up some snacks for the day and headed back to our guest house to pack up our stuff and head out. We had attached our still-wet laundry from the night before to the back of our rucksacks to dry and as we were tying up our laces to go Sharron decided I should go on without her. It was clear that I had a quicker pace than her (and a shorter deadline to get to Santiago) and she knew it was wise to go our separate ways. I was well aware that goodbyes are something that you have to cope with regularly on the Camino de Santiago but after having such a misadventure with  my new friend it was hard to accept that we had to separate so soon. It didn’t feel right.

I started my walk alone. Our ‘early departure’ plan had failed and I had the camino to myself. Something I was not going to complain about. I made some friends with some cows as I passed through farmland and soon the Camino turned off into a natural trail where I was relieved to be walking through the natural shaded tunnel.

Every now and then I found some pilgrims to greet with my newfound favourite phrase ‘Buen Camino’ , including an older couple who obviously were unable to carry their rucksacks on their back and had resorted to wheeling them using waist straps which I had a profound respect for.

As much as I missed Sharron’s company I knew that one of the reasons I was doing the Camino de Santiago was to seek some moments of solitude. I generally live a very busy high-stressed lifestyle (purely by choice and a dangerous ability to commit myself to anything I can squeeze into every 24 hours).

A few hours later I had gotten sick of the voices yelling at me in my head as I tried to process months and months (or maybe years) of ideas and pondering and my earphones were in and my ‘happy’ playlist was blasting.

“KAAAT!”

OK, it was day 2 and I was already going insane.

“KAAAAAT!”

I turned around. Half running down was Sharron. I opened my arms in magical, movie-moment reunion style.

Not even Taylor Swift could replace the company of my new friend.

…Not that I ever listen to Taylor Swift…

We passed through a couple of small towns nestled between gorgeous autumn paths. But it didn’t take long for us to separate again… And as we said another farewell ‘Buen Camino’ I realised farewells don’t have to feel so final after all.

I hiked through the hot day admiring the small towns along the way. It was only day two and it was still all so new. I felt so grateful to be embarking on this adventure along the Camino de Santiago and so proud of myself to committing to it. I was ambitious and wanted to make it to Santiago in 30 days on my own two feet and although most of my thoughts were positive there was some lingering doubt that it was a too greater challenge. I had never done anything like this before in my life. I had never been a very ‘active’ person. But my age was certainly in my favour. And from what I had read the real challenge wasn’t the physical one – it was the mental one. Would I be able to put up with myself in such a vulnerable environment for the next month? Only time would tell. And hopefully that time would take me all the way to Santiago.

Eventually I made it to Larrasoana, one of the bigger towns and recommended places to crash for the night along the Camino de Santiago. I had planned on walking further and later but having heard rumours that there was an overload of pilgrims on the trail I was worried about finding a bed and decided to stop my walk early rather than start my bed-search late.

I went into the first albergue I spotted.

“Everything in town is full.”

“Everything!?”

“Everything.”

This theory was reinforced at the second albergue I spotted… And the third.

I was told there were no accommodation options until Pamplona… A mere 20km further down the camino…

I was told to either suck up my pride and get in a taxi or keep walking.

I took a seat at the first bar I spotted and pondered my afternoon over a fresh orange juice. The bartender could tell there was something on my mind (they always can) and I shared my conundrum with him.

“Look, if you really kind find anything you can sleep on my couch. You know where I am, just come back here if you’re desperate.”

Knowing that I had a couch to backtrack to I headed back out on the camino wondering whether I was in for another late-night hike. It was late afternoon now and the sun was blasting.

The trail was empty and I continued walking, basically absorbing the many litres of water that slipped easily down my throat.

I was hot, tired and on the verge of giving up and sleeping right there on the side of the Camino de Santiago path.

And then I saw her…

She was sitting in the middle of the path looking as hopeless as I felt.And no one in the world could have lifted my spirits more.

Sharron and I burst out laughing at the pathetic sight of one another. At least we were in this together now. Again.

We passed through a very small town on the top of a hill. There wasn’t a soul to be seen but we heard voices and realised that a BBQ was taking place in someones backyard so we peeked over the fence.

After the mother-looking figure approached us and realised there was a language barrier she sent forth a son who’s English managed to tell us there was a slightly larger path ahead, a couple of kilometres off the Camino de Santiago, where we might be able to find somewhere to sleep.

We thanked him and continued. By this point it was all about just putting one foot in front of the other and keeping our spirits high alive.

We saw the town ahead and veered off in the direction of civilisation. If I hadn’t been so sweaty I would have even crossed my fingers.

The town was small and there wasn’t an albergue in sight. We strolled through the silent streets until we saw a group of people sitting around a small swimming pool. Nothing in the world had ever looked so tempting (not even my breakfast) and we were drawn towards it.

It became clear that the people were not locals and we realised this could be it! This could be a place to crash (and maybe even swim…)

We asked the poolside pilgrims where the owner was and they directed us to the door. We knocked and waited and were soon greeted by a grandma-like lady in a sexy bikini and a thick layer of green eyeshadow. My description doesn’t do this lady justice because her welcoming personality made the look absolutely gorgeous.

We told her our problem and she was obviously sad to tell us there was no beds left in her small household albergue either.

“Is there a tent? We can sleep outside.”

She observed us curiously, she now fully realised our desperation.

“Yes, we have a tent.”

Overjoyed to have a place to call home we quickly stripped off our sweat-soaked clothing and dived into the pool in our underwear (don’t worry – our camino underwear wasn’t very sexy).

Another stressful afternoon had ended and we had found a place to sleep without having to hike through a slug-infested forest during the night.

That evening the lady’s husband, Jesus, cooked up a storm for the small group of pilgrims and they revealed that the sofa could be turned into a bed…

That night Sharron and I slept soundly on Jesus’ couch. The Camino de Santiago was certainly throwing some challenged my way but the kinds of strangers was becoming a consistent theme in my pilgrim lifestyle.

Alojamientos Acá y Allá (Jesus House)