8/29

• 5:41 - wake up, and decide it´s too ealry to actually wake up
• 8:09 - it´s raining. hard. my tent is wet inside. part of me wants to stay put all day. the same part of me that wishes i was in a dry bed in Boston. I´m not. So I put on my rain gear and step out into the wetness.
• 9:40 - I have packed the sopping wet tent and the rest of my gear into their respective bags. One pannier is dry stuff, the other is wet. I´m basically al set up to get my day going, other than paying for the camping and grabbing breakfast.
• 10:24 - The guy who runs the campsite, who lives right across the street in an apartment building, has not shown up. I´ve been making conversation with a guy who brought his son camping near the water so they could go sea fishing. The weather has not helped either of us. He tells me the day ahead for me is "rompe-piernas", a legbreaker. I tell him I´m bailing on paying the €7.
• 11:09 - After o.j. and pastries in a local cafe, i´m off.
• 11:59 - 15km into my day, I stop at a supermarket for food. Chocolate? check. Bread? check. Fruit? check. €3 later I´m back on the road.
• 12:48 - I stop at a gas station for water. 31km into my day, I take a 15 minute rest, avoiding the fumes of gasoline.
• 2:40 - Stop number 2 for "lunch". The road has not been kind, with lots of valleys and climbs on these coastal foothills. But the view is beautiful. I have made what seems to be little progress on my map, although I have put in 52km.
• 3:51 - After winding under, over, and around a major highway that I want desperately to avoid, the highway apparently ends, and merges with my road. No more going into the valleys, as I enjoy the "viaducts", or bridges that make my path smooht. 22km to Avilés.
• 4:43 - The road has been mostly downhill since I joined the highway, and I arrive at the destination for the day, 26km shy of where I intended to arrive. My legs don´t want to go anywhere else today, thogh. Just over 90km, and I eat the last of the chocolate bar to celebrate.
• 4:50 - The tourist office tells me there is a pilgrim´s hostel walking distance away from where I am. I am back on El Camino, this time, the Northern Route, and I´m going backwards. But who cares?
• 5:05 - At the hostel, I settle into my bed. The 60 beds are almost all empty, and I take my pick, top bunk near the door. Good to know I´ll be dry tonight for only €3.
• 5:07 - Singing into the guestbook, I notice another traveler staying there named Marcela Agudelo, from Colombia. The place is empty now, so I will have to wait to meet her.
• 6:21 - Showered, settled in, and working on drying out my gear. The sun shines for about a minute, helping me in my task, but then the clouds come in again and the pitter patter of rain drives me back inside.
• 7:21 - Tent is dry and packed. My damp gear is drying. I head to the town to find internet and food.
• 8:36 - I have walked around the town for over an hour. It´s a pretty city, soon to host the international rock climbing championships. Lots of history dating back to the 13th century, but the city is bustling around the history. Like most other cities I´ve seen, there is a large central, historical area open only to pedestrians, making the cities great to walk in. But there seem to be no internet cafes, so I head to the library.
• 9pm: The librarian kicks me out. I´ve only been online for 8 minutes, but I can´t complain since it was free, and I was fairly warned. Now for food.
• 9:07 - La Bodega de Rivero, a restaurant en route to the albergue, has prix fixe menu for €7.50, and they´re showing the Spain-Germany basketball game.
• 10:03 - I devoured my first dish of pasta and my second dish of a quarter chicken with potato fries. Now onto flan for desert, and finishing my half liter of wine.
• 10:18 - I pay, and feeling a bit tipsy, I head out. Spain wins the ballgame, and a dubbed version of "Family Guy" come on.
• 10:31 - The albergue closed the main door at 10, but I failed to read the warning as I came in. There is no answer to my knocking. I succesfully attempt climbing a wall on the side, then walking along some roof tiles, and hopping down into the patio. My Crocs are of no help, but no one noticed.
• 10:39 - I ask her name. She is Marcela, 27, from Armenia in Colombia, but living in Barcelona since she was 20. She is taking some time off work, and this is week three of five in her pilgrimmage to Santiago. Over toothbrushing, she tells me we´ll talk more in the morning, but I doubt it.
• 10:51 - I put my head to bed. I know I´ll be sound asleep by 11.