The whole dormitory was pretty much deserted by the extra early hour of six am this morning; everyone wanting to escape the incessant loud coughing from one guy that kept everyone awake all night. It started early, and I noticed people putting earplugs in - I quickly followed suit but it didn't help much. Throughout the night my thoughts about the guy oscillated between concern for his health to wanting to lynch him.
I'd had dinner with Bernard, a Frenchman from near Versailles. Three kids, recently retired, oldest son in Montreal married to an Indian 'a real one, not the American kind'. He and I had arrived together and when he found I spoke French he was thrilled. He'd been struggling with English he said, although it seemed pretty good to me. Dinner conversation went to French politics (a subject ripe for all sorts of irony and mockery, especially given the latest scooter-based exploits of the President). The bottle of wine we shared as part of the Pilgrim meal emptied quickly. I never knew that Pilgrims were such big drinkers, but even when there's no dessert included in the fixed menu, there's always wine (and bread, come to think of it, so there's some biblical inspiration there I suppose).
The weather forecast was for wind, showers and possible thunderstorms. Not the most promising news. The wind was forecast to be 10 to 18 km/hr from the W to NW. My route for the day was to take me to the west, with some sections towards the northwest. And here a westerly wind is cold.
Wind. It was to be the theme for the day. It was exactly as forecast and it was relentless, making for tiring riding. And then there was the rain. I noticed the storm clouds coming and at the first spots of rain I'd stopped and put on my jacket and waterproof pants, feeling smug that I had been so proactive. After an hour or so riding in this rather uncomfortable gear, and with the clouds coming and going without any actual rain, I stopped again to take it all off again. No sooner had I repacked it all into the panniers and set off again then the rain started in earnest. I just had time to out the jacket on when the heavens opened; there was no point in trying to get the waterproof pants on. I hoped that the wind would later dry my socks. Did I mention the wind?
By the time I'd been riding almost 60km I'd had enough and made a plan to stop at the next place,some 7 km away. This is a real luxury here - the next place is often not that far away; try doing that in Australia! Naturally, on arriving, I found my chosen albergue full. Strange how the nicest places always seem to be the first to fill up. On my third attempt I found 'Albergue Laguna', a rather ill-conceived and out of place complex with a somewhat tropical theme. Plastic sun chairs under metal poles with artificial thatch roofs, that sort of thing. Again, not surprisingly the dormitory section was full, but they had places in the "cabins" (I would not have been surprised to find these underneath fake palm trees). The cabins were essentially garden sheds, with a small shed as toilet. To be fair, some effort had been made to make them comfortable and the inclusion of perspex windows with stick-on fake stained glass made them feel quite homely.
Hans (From Hamburg) is my room-mate for the night. We'd arrived at around the same time and did a deal for a choice garden shed for two. 'You will be cold' explained the owner, with a spectacular lack of salesmanship. Maybe I'll finally get to use the sleeping bag I've been lugging around Spain.
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