As Seixas to Ribadiso De Baixo

The hostel had been under booked which is bad fortune for the owner, but grand luck for the shared sleeping. Graciously fate had delivered only one snorer of the gentle intermittent kind.

Fatigue and Estrella Galicia did the rest.

The morning ritual was broken only by the inclusion of a sit down breakfast, in my case bread graciously provided by Kirstie & Co. A half tin of tuna in vegetable oil, and a cup of water with electrolyte salts mixed in.

Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but it broke up the monotony of trail munching I'd grown semi-accustomed to.

Then the trail, we managed to crest a hill with a rocky out cropping just as the sun was breaking through the horizon, enabling some of the nicest photos even in the hands of my ham fisted point and shoot understanding of composition.

Absolutely stunning. And then walking. Each sign post at this point is making a noticeable albeit small dent in kilometers, giving a solid impression that your wandering is actually getting you somewhere.

The added rest from the day before made it a joy. Its always hardest to start moving in the mornings, but once you start then its as if everything falls into line.

By this point my left foot had started producing blisters as well, every morning was the same ritual, shower the night before, apply bandages, bacterial cream, and enough Vaseline to shock a pole dancer and go.

I would not drain unless absolutely needed, as it was easier to walk with a plaster over the great blister than drain it and deal with the sensitive skin underneath.

The pain was noticeable with every step, but due to its consistency and mental acceptance that it wasn't going to go away, and so it was ignored. Copious dosages of Ibuprofen and paracetamol helped.

We reached Irago De Arriba in good time, and being as it was the last bar between us and Melide, coffee was on the menu. As well as Kas Limon, a curious mid morning drink ritual akin to my evening vino tinto or cerveiza and coffee.

There was also a apple tree in full bloom of ripe apples the patron has seemingly neglected, and so I requisitioned some of the ripe fallen ones to be had alongside.

The next target was Melide and then the end of the Primitivo proper and the start of the Frances.

From Melide maybe Boente or Ribadiso. Depending on moral and midday heat.

Well my impression of Melide, quaint but not remarkable. It lacked the historic land marks of Lugo. There was also the instantly recognizable appearance of the day packers.

Gone were the small numbers of grim faced pilgrims dressed in mountain gear and large pack of the Primitivo. Now the streets of Melide were alive with masses of yoga pants, sandals, lycra in electric colors, and small day backpacks marked with tourism logos.

The Primitivo with its deprivations was over, and now we were in the safer, more tourist friendly, tour package territory of the Frances.

We consoled ourselves with a ice cream while we rested. I had the joy of picking a local specialty, a donut flavored ice cream from an inside joke with a colleague.

We left Melide, recovering a phone for someone who had idly left it, bank cards and all on a bench in the city centre. And made our way to Boente, where we settled in for beer and to hide from the heat of the sun.

The weather was cooperating, perhaps a little too much lately.

While I have to be mindful with my skin, secretly I love the warm weather.

It was settled on travelling to Ribadoso, which was much further than I intended and as such was happy with.

I'd never intended to travel so far so quickly, but with good travelling companions the segments of road seem shorter, and with the less challenging park lands with it's winding trails and occasional river crossings to contend with we were making excellent time.

Ribadiso seemed like a natural conclusion to end the day, situated on the other side of a small river stream which the Perrigrinos lined up to bathe their feet in, the advancement in the facilities, even the quality of the Junta Municipals was far and above anything aside from Sallas or As Seixas that I'd stayed in.

We all decided to chip in for laundry, which was a blessing really. As you can wash your clothes by hand, but they get an accumulated haggardness, oil spots, trail markings, deeply ingrained dirt that doesn't easily come off with primitive hand washing facilities.

The showers too were great. I know it might not make for exciting reading, but at the end of a long day of walking a good shower can have all the remunerative effects of a meal, plus good sleep, all rolled into one so it's not to be discounted.

Also the evening weather was great and the local restaurant neatly situated within the two big Albergue's had a nice Perrigrino's menu.

Dinner was a nice simple affair, joined by some of the others we'd met at As Seixas, Lisa another German Marina knew & the two Norwegian's Ketil & his son. They'd planned on making it to Santiago tomorrow in one fell swoop, which by my recollection was going to be around 45km. Crazy, but not impossible to do.

As I settled in to the only single bed in the hostel, the one which I had optimistically taken then realized was right by the exit, I was happy at the progress that we'd made.

My feet while constantly needing to be drained in the more bloated blisters hadn't been nearly as debilitating as the first round had. Then sleep, whatever may come it could wait until tomorrow.

Thanks to my patrons Brendan Mills, Renee Rushbrook, and Carlos Ara.