We had never walked with my cousin so it was a real roll of the dice as to whether we could walk together for ten hours a day over all sorts of terrain in every weather condition imaginable. We left Roncesvalles at 8 o’clock this morning and reached a small town called Larrasoaña at six tonight. A twenty mile journey. We can walk together. It is a match. A good one.
We stopped before noon for Tortilla and fresh squeezed orange juice. It was a small cafè with two guitars in a corner and some bongos which I played for a bit. I had some Manchego in my pack, soft and seeping from the day before. We had that a few hours later along with some figs. And we finally set down here and ordered a beer, Estella Galicia, aceitunas, ensalada con atun, some thinly sliced jamon and some delicios Sopa de Ajo.
My cousin is a farm girl. She grew up outside of Dundee. She knows horses and owns a race horse now. She says this horse is a work horse. This horse has it made. We’re the work horses.
We will sleep like babies.