Last night we slept in the attic of a pension in a tiny town called Pintin. It was converted into a bedroom but only had two beds. Teresa’s bed was in a sort of in cupboard and the bed was pulled out for her… But her head was still within the cupboard… And her feet hung over the end… But she seemed happy enough.
There was no heating either so our damp clothes stayed damp and our wet ponchos still had droplets of water on them in the morning. The owner was lovely but it was a tad cold and a tad over priced.
We ate dinner with a couple of guys from France… They made us laugh over pudding by telling up that president Hollande has the nickname of flanbe, after the wobbly creme caramel pudding. It sounds silly writing now but at the time we were in hysterics… But Teresa did have that pudding in front of her and she did keep wobbling it.
So we left this morning at 8.00 and it was raining. It was either moderate rain or heavy rain. One moment it lightened and we thought oh good it’s stopping. But it was only teasing because the next moment it would be heavy. And so it continued into Sarria. Moderate… Heavy… Moderate… Heavy.
My poncho joins between my legs like some giant ridiculous romper suit. when raining, it directs all the water down to my ankles and into my boots. So as we passed a sports shop I decided to buy some waterproof trousers. I think every Pilgrim that had passed that morning had the same idea as there were just 2 pairs left… Small or extra extra large… Guess which ones I chose?
So on we walked, with me in my giant pants. It stopped raining for about 20 minutes. And then the heavens opened and it rained so hard it hurt. It rained so hard the roads turned to rivers and we no longer worried about keeping our feet dry, we just wondered how deep the puddles would be and if the water would come over our ankles. It rained so hard that we could hardly see and even the dogs couldn’t be bothered to bark. It just rained and rained and rained.
At times there really were torrents of water running down from the hills and into overflowing storm drains. I wanted to take photos but there was no way the camera was coming out during such a storm!
We finally landed at around 4.30 at the albergue Mercadoiro. My t-shirt and fleece are wet. My socks and shoes are so wet. My poncho is wet both inside and out but do you know what… my giant pants kept my legs dry!
We’re now huddled in one room of the bar with every other pilgrim in the albergue. All sitting around the giant woodburner trying to get warm but not having much success. The power is going on and off and I will be glad to eat and get in my sleeping bag!
Please let it be dry tomorrow… And by the way we have walked over 700 kilometres and today the little marker posts dropped to double figures… woop woop! 96 kilometres to go!!
4 thoughts on “Huge pants”
Well, pilgrims are supposed to suffer but your lot seems to be wet, wet, wet. We like the photos as usual and you really are coming to the end of the road, though your feet be weary, still struggle on, till you come to the end of the road, we'll be waiting there ……….. when you come to the end of the road.
Try singing that one in the rain – also possible “Singing in the rain” We hope it lets up for your final days.
Be warned, when you reach your goal you'll need a few days to adjust to the real world after your days of wandering and wondering. Just remember this and take it easy. X Gill / Cinders
Colleen I'm in total admiration. The weather for you is vile and you are advancing towards your goal but please, please take care as the conditions are treacherous. Enjoy the octopus in Melide :-)))) xxJen/Gemonimo
oh wow!……………only 96kms to go.
The wet days and walking in the rain must be really soul destroying but it sounds as though you are managing to keep your spirits up.
Bon courage. Gill