Let’s scotch one widely held belief right now. This is a myth supported by half of the western world, and all the rest of it, for all I know. One for which George Bernard Shaw, (a fellow Irishman and Dubliner, by the way), is somewhat responsible. It is this. That the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plane. Yes! Let’s scotch this right now. We walked the plain in Spain for over a week. It was dry and dusty. So! The rain in Spain falls mainly on me! And it does so in great quantities and with unceasing enthusiasm. It gets under my gortex coat. It creeps down the inside of my collar. It goes down my back and arms and it fills my shoes. That’s where the rain in Spain goes.

Having accepted this reality, let’s look at another misconception. In the dim and distant past, a miracle took place in the church of O’Cebriero. I’m not doubting this. Let me go on. The popular belief is that the miracle took place to put down a haughty priest who was dismissive of a devout peasant. The correct version I believe, is that it took place so that future pilgrims would have to climb 700 meters (that’s about 2,200 feet), over 6 kms, in the rain, at the end of a day’s hiking, because the scene of every miracle has to be added to the camino. And it was damn cold too.

On the other hand, Wednesday morning dawned clear and bright. Cold. Very cold, but clear and bright. Against all expectations, the sun stayed out all day. The temperatures rose. The day became most pleasant. So much so, that when we got to Triacastela, and it was only 2pm, we decided to leave a group of friends, sitting at a street side cafe, and hike on. A most beautiful afternoon’s hiking, though forest paths, farm tracks and across lovely pastureland. All in glorious sunshine. An afternoon from heaven. All is forgiven.

A week ago, I had lost all sense of where I was. I was just walking. Day after day. Just walking. Yesterday, when we crossed into Galicia, I noticed that the local government had put up milestones, (well actually kilometre stones, or in fact, half kilometre stones). So now, every half kilometre, we get a reminder as to exactly how far we have left to go to Satiago. We will never be lost again!! I think I preferred not to know. It’s 118, by the way!