Nobody Feels Any Pain – Requena to Chera

Everybody knows, that baby’s got new clothes, but lately I’ve seen her ribbons and her bows, have fallen, from her curls. Worth a Nobel Prize in its own right, never mind the rest of Dylan’s enormous and beautiful body of work. Don’t go yet Bob. It was bad enough with Bowie and Prince leaving us, never mind the shock and finality of losing Leonard. I was working in Paris when Lou Reed died. I think I’ve told you this before. I walked into the recruitment consultant near the Champs Elysees (see, I can do posh as well as Sheffield scum) and a telly in reception had a photo of Lou on the news. I asked the consultant if he was playing in Paris and he said ‘No he’s dead’. I just burst into tears.  Fat bloke in his late 50’s weeping like a baby in reception. Bet they dined out on that.

Will and Cheggers. Do you remember the day we loaded my old Morris Minor, Tank, and flitted from that Leinster Square hostel (craphole) in Paddington to the civilised Passfield Hall of Residence in Bloomsbury in January 1973? The last thing to be loaded was my record player and we played Ziggy Stardust from beginning to end, singing and dancing each track with elation. That dump should have been gutted, disinfected and rebuilt. We thought it was ok though. Three northern lads in the smoke at 18 years old. Love you guys.
Back to Spain. Before I get ridiculously emotional in this warm and noisy bar up in the hill town of Chera, full of folk my age or older, shouting and bawling. 

Set off late this morning at 10.15 and headed north-east out of town towards the mountains. I passed a bar full of working guys in their reflective work gear, irresistible. The bar not the guys. Jesus I’m not staying at the YMCA. Not homophobic either. Any road it was great. Two coffees, scrambled eggs with chunks of cured ham, tortilla with onions, fried slices of fresh cod and bread. Breakfast like a king. Passed a bread shop that had breakfast on garlic bread in the window.

The road today was all uphill for 19kms and it was clear, windy and very cold. The cold weather from Greece and Italy is making its way across Spain and we’re one of the first areas to cop it. Minus 10 forecast tonight. Forget footpaths and tents. This is mountain roads, hostels and warmth. And beauty… it’s Spain after all!

The authorities don’t just stand around and boast…. ok Bob that’s enough thanks. They are springing into action with signs and salt spreading.

It’s snowing in Mallorca but I think I’ve got at least a couple of days walking before it snows here. Then get down to the coast for warmth and safety I think. Becoming a soft southern bedwetter in my old age. Second anti-southern reference in two days. Becoming a bit regionalist for Hampstead tastes. Third.

The GR7 crossed the road I was on. There’s a bit of a mess here with it being diverted for miles.

Sure enough I crossed another version 10kms later. 

The mountain scenery then just took over and made me remember why I’m doing this route and not a flat and homogenous Pilgrimage westwards.

It was very windy, nearly blowing me over at one stage, and the wind was really freezing. Sorry to keep on about it but the photos make it look warm. Tint warm. Scold.

This bloke loves it though. The last time I saw you, you looked so much older. Thanks Len.

My gear was heavy on my left shoulder, different parts of a more mature body take strains at different times. Mine urts allovver mostet time. This is my gear, with the Scallop shell so folk don’t think I’m a vagrant. 

And this is what folk come here for. Poorer definition as I had to zoom in but that’s a ruined castle with a waterfall bottom right. Kiss my tomatoes, Christian. It’s lovely round here.

Coming up to Chera the town isn’t lovely. Not in the grip of winter anyway. But it grows on you with every step nearer the Albergue. 

And someone has class. I’ve never meant to be unkind. 

That is Elvis, for the benefit of the only person not to recognise him. Own up you young devil. And this is tinsel town.

Eventually got to my Albergue and rang the reception woman to gain entry. To the Albergue you filthy minded beast. I’m there on my own tonight. The only occupant. My room is fine, I’ve left the little heater on, and there is hot water. Ten quid! It’s potty. Might sleep in my sleeping bag on the bed in my boots and walking gear to make it easier to get up in the morning. 

Cheers me dears. I’m out here for summat to eat and to get an early night. Up to Villar del Arbozispo, weather permitting, tomorrow. 30kms.

Night night my lovely dears.

 And thank you for the days, gentlemen. Those endless days those sacred days you gave me. I bless the light, I bless the light that shines on you believe me.

Now I’m not frightened of this world believe me. Or the next.