Thursday, 5th October.
Phoney pilgrims

My backpack stinks.

above (l-r): Dave's arse, Noelle's arse, Barb's arse
(the girls have matching backpacks, isn't that cute?)

Grizzled, hardened veterans of the Camino that we are, (well, I'm the only one of us going grey, but we are TOUGH) it saddened us to see more and more phoney pilgrims this morning. There we are, bounding along with our washing draped from our backs (Dave is determined to invent an efficient method of drying clothes on the back of a backpack), hundreds of kilometres under our belts, bulging packs strapped to our shoulders, and we encounter these day-tripper pilgrims. Some have their gear bussed from refugio to refugio. The ones we passed today were wearing jeans, light spray jackets, and little bags on their backs. Some didn't even carry packs. I raised my arms as I went past, hoping to give them a bit of the smell of the Camino. Essence Of Ian. Oh the pong.

As we walked through another anonymous village, we saw a small herd of cattle in a hillside field ahead of us spontaneously make a dash for the gate. They ran through the gate, hung a left and trotted along the road towards us. One of the lead pack stopped, and gave the stragglers a hurry-along. The clip-clopped past us (we were motionless in the middle of the road, not believing what we were seeing) and continued on down the road and round the bend.

(Hope you all enjoy the above photo of my fellow pilgrims' arses...in a couple of days I'll show y'all a photo of their sunny-sides.)

Boys will be boys. To get to Portomarin we had to cross a long bridge high above the river. After we'd checked in at the refugio and done some washing, Davo and I returned to the river and larked about. We skimmed rocks (not easy since we were a few metres above the river, and there were no smooth stones around, it was kinda like trying to skim bricks) and then took turns trying to hit a rocky outcrop in the river. With a running cricket-style commentary. Just as our arms were about to drop off, Dave hit the target.

After dinner, a black cat appeared in the dormitory. I was still more than a little paranoid following yesterday's incident, and was concerned that this cat might feel the need to mark its territory as well. I coaxed it out of the dorm and shut the door, returnig to the kitchen to write my diary. Then I lost sight of the little mongrel. Everyone in the kitchen was teasing me that the cat had gone back into the dorm. Yeah laugh it up.

When I went to bed I shone my torch under all the other beds to make sure the cat wasn't there.