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The track record

It was the longest day today (3rd. of May) in our Camino history. First we walked to Ponte de Lima. I met a couple walking. Later I met Christin and Greg for the first time. I heard about the proper backpack for hiking. First time in my life.

I've got lost a little bit in the woods. It just made my walk a little longer.

Then I met Duarte a Portugal guy who basically took my mind off the walking for the last couple of kms to Ponte de Lima. Then we reached to Thomas where Duarte left us.

Some rest and a lovely lunch motivated us to continue our journey.

The plan was to walk another 10 km and then retire at a private hostel. When we got there we quickly made a decision to look for another accommodation. Our idea was to walk about one and a half hour to get there. We did not count in the biggest hill 405m which slowed us down and the huge rocks on the road. At this stage I thought my little toe will end up paralysed or I will loose it.

Usually we would walk with a distance in between us but this time it was getting late and dark so we stayed together. In the finish line one minute we were convinced we are close and then in next we thought we are getting further away from the city. Completing the march 33.3 kms we were very grateful for our hosts to open the house.

"You're crazy. You fall down, stand up and walk again,

your ankles and your knees move

but you start again as if you had wings.

The ditch calls you, but it's no use you're afraid to stay,

and if someone asks why, maybe you turn around and say

that a woman and a sane death a better death wait for you.

But you're crazy. For a long time

only the burned wind spins above the houses at home,

Walls lie on their backs, plum trees are broken

and the angry night is thick with fear.

Oh if I could believe that everything valuable

is not only inside me now that there's still home to go back to.

If only there were! And just as before bees drone peacefully

on the cool veranda, plum preserves turn cold

and over sleepy gardens quietly, the end of summer bathes in the


Among the leaves the fruit swing naked

and in front of the rust-brown hedge blond Fanny waits for me,

the morning writes slow shadows—-

All this could happen The moon is so round today!

Don't walk past me, friend. Yell, and I'll stand up again!"

Forced March by Miklos Radnoti

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