Day 29 - 17 Kilometres

Olmos De Atapuerca - Burgos

Worst. Day. Ever.

Cz went to bed grumpy over having walked thirty Km only to have to pay the same amount had we stopped in town number 2.

He woke up with sore ankles which did nothing to improve his mood.

The day started with a fairly steep uphill and then an equally steep downhill. Somewhere on the hill the Cz´s use of the English language became reduced to grunts and grumbles. Cz is a little bit anti-hill on a good day. This was not a good day.

We were on a less-marked offshoot of the Camino - in theory it would knock off some kilometres, and as the leg from Olmos to Burgos is fairly dull, we figured that this was a good thing.

It did knock off kilometres, but what it made up for in length it lost in charm.

After the hill, we had to traipse through a road under construction. Read: big dirt mounds, lumpy ground, sudden drops. Read: Cz´s version of hell. Not only did we have to go through a construction site, but we had to keep a pretty good clip. As stated, the path was not well-marked. Irish Boys (who we seem to be keeping pace with) had a map. But it didn´t show this offshoot. They were following Red Backpack Man. He is a fast walker. So, Irish Boys kept Red Backpack Man in sight. I kept Irish Boys in sight. And Cz grumphed and harumphed 50 metres behind, with extra grumphing and harumphing when I waited for him to ensure that he would not be lost entirely.

After the construction zone, we walked along the shoulder of the highway. With trucks. Trucks make big winds that blow off hats. Cz had to chase his hat twice before giving up and stuffing it in his pack. With more grumphing and harumphing naturally. Which I did not hear, as I felt it best to maintaina safe distance. The author of the expression "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" has clearly never met Cz in a bad mood.

We did make into Burgos by 11:30 AM - a good thing as the centrally located free Albergue fills up fast. I got in line. Cz sulked about a block away. No worries, the doors weren´t to open until 1:30, I figured he could sulk while I got the lay of the land.

At 1:oo I dragged Cz to the Albergue. A bed seemed imminant. Cz´s grumbling had been reduced to a simmering, glowering silence. Reduced as in volume. With Cz silent = PISSED.

The hostelier called everyone to the front door to read the rules. The line disintigrated. A "lady" - I use the term VERY loosely, plants herself in front of us, using her kid as a body shield. She gets the last bed. If looks could kill that kid would be an orphan.

The next Albergue is about a kilometre walk farther on. Cz plants himself back on his corner and decides that he is not taking another step. He threatens to quit the Camino. He threatens to quit the trip altogether. It takes a solid half hour of arguing to convince him to get up.

It takes half an hour of foot-dragging walking to get to the next Albergue. Where he spends the rest of the day curled up on the bunk simmering.

I go out to sightsee and buy some food. Burgos Cathedral has a fountain in the plaza in front of it with the best, coldest, sweetest water. The cathedral itself aint bad either.

I return with the food. Including Gazpacho and fresh tomatoes which Cz usually can´t resist.

He resists it, opting to remain curled up and pissed off.

I eat my Gazpacho.

Cz remains curled up and pissed off.

I read a book.

Cz remains curled up and pissed off.

I visit with our Spanish trail family and French girl.

Cz remains curled up and pissed off.

Are you sensing a pattern here?

I go to bed.

Guess what Cz does?
If you guessed curled up and pissed of...BINGO!

It was Friday the 13th. Figures.