Roadkill (Cont)

Eventually I moved on down the cobbled track, towards another Santiago. For much of the morning my troubles were the questions still that had no answers. Was he really Santiago ? Had I met the King of Salem ? What was the omen of the snake about ? Where was Fatima ? Andy why in heavens name, was I not seeing angels if I was on my way into a coma ?
How had he known I was travelling and how had he known of my search for love ?


As the sun rose hotly, the heat from the day rose to greet me like a wave. Fortunately the Levanter was cutting its way across the hills and open plains, feeding the wind turbines, and cooling my brow now and then. According to my map, there was little in the way of villages out here and nothing remotely on my route, except the small villages either side of the main hyway. To reach any of them, I would have to take another detour of at least 5km. All along the route, I kept finding layed out before me, the remains of the roadkill, that had probably stepped out during the night-time hours. I was surprised, and not nessecarily in a good way, to see just how many snakes there were out here. Some of them very fat and very long. Or they had been ! Tie that in with both the passing of a headstone the previous day ( a young motorcyclist killed ) on a very straight hyway, and the experience with Santiago this morning, and I was one nervous bunny. Of course plenty of cars and lorries passed me by. Some hooted their horns, possibly because they too, were former pilgrims or knew about them. Others, possibly nothing better to do than scare the Shit out of an already jumpy, walker.
As a precaution, I had been to the tourist offices, and the casa de Cultura in Vejer, to inquire as to the refreshment stops along the way to Medina. One, the tourist office, had no idea, and coudn´t wait to get a leaflet into my hands and me, out of the door. I was sure that it wasn´t approaching siesta. The girl in the casa de Cultura, seemed equally unhelpful, but assured me that there was a watering hole on the way to Medina. At about the four hour mark I needed to rest so chose a farm gateway entrance, free of obstructions, and snakes ! After about half an hour I knew I´d better move or cease up, so set off once more. Almost an hour later, I actually found the rest area, spoken of, at 20km, 10km to go ´til Medina Sidonia. Well, as you can imagine, I have to apologise to the girl in the casa de Cultura (who isn´t a lying bitch....) about the existence of the venta.

Tres Arcos was a welcome venue, and I have to add, excellent eating stop. The salad and fish were amazing. They didn´t even mind me taking off my odorous footwear for the duration of my visit. Finally fed and watered, I set off to meet Qt in the village which seemed close enough to spit at, yet took another two hours to reach.
The last few kilometres were very hard and I considered a taxi more than once, even a passing car would have possibly been flagged down for a lift. But in the absense of traffic I soldiered on, eventually realising how Santiago had known I was travelling. DURGH !!!! The back pack !!!! The walking poles !! But this did not explain the odd dialogue between us, nor the omen of the snake, which kept one eye on the kerb grass all day.


If you have ever travelled so far on foot, each step you will know, is very precious, yet very cruely spent. As I arrived at the end of my days walk, into the Plaza, where I saw Qt waiting quietly, tears filled my eyes with gratitude and love. Such heightened emotions are common on ´the way`. Fortunately for me, I had been able to listen to rousing music this past two hours. These wonders of technology not open to pilgrims of old. I have to say that normally, I don´t agree with spoiling the experience with too much outside influence. Though of course the Pelegrinos of times gone by, did not have Goretex and lightweight fabric for their loads. Neither, it has to be said, did they have all the other trappings of a modern pilgrimage at hand. They slept neath the stars and ate very simple, self prepared meals each day. They stopped when they wanted, and didn´t have to make it to the nearest safety stop or nice comfy Albergue. Unless this was a sign of my delerium, I may well be on my way to discovering the hardships, encountered by pilgrims from the past 17 centuries or so.


Qt was so pleased to see me too, and we soon discovered how lovely it was to have company once more.