Hello backpack my old friend

Okay so just started this morninga with a one-line joke and kind of grew (below).

Today, pictures first.

Not really much to write about today. We started early navigating the maze that is the Camino exiting burgos. Making good time. We navigated our way through the now finished highway interchange, and through a small little villages stopping for a proper breakfast and stopping at the church which also is at the entrance to the Meseta. We were able to receive a pilgrim's blessing from the nuns that staff the church.  From there, the other half of the day was traversing the early rolling hills Meseta before dropping down into our town for the night.

Otherwise we were blessed with all the cast guys peppered with an occasional round of spittle but nothing more. Nothing that required rain gear other than the safety of the pack covers... Until late afternoon, early evening when a classic summer evening thunderstorm rolled through and gave the area a much needed soaking, including, for special effect, hail.

However, I was able to soak my feet in the nice cool "foot soaking pool" (essentially a tiny filtered kiddie pool with some wooden platforms put next to it for sitting) which felt amazing on the feet after the day's pounding.

For those anticipating some deep thoughts or spiritual insights, I'm sorry you're going to have to put up with the song below cuz that's what I use to occupy my brain through the day. I can't claim complete creative content over it as Lynne had input and then it all got blended together and spit out with AI, massaged, refined, altered, and Viola 

The Backpack’s Camino Song

(to the tune of The Sound of Silence)

Hello backpack my old friend

I’ll put you on my back again

Over Pyrenees with fog surrounding

Through Roncesvalles the bells resounding

And the vision of the yellow arrows in my sight

Shone so bright

Guiding me along Camino.

On the Meseta I walked alone

Boots on gravel, dry as bone

Click of poles in the stillness ringing

Lonely skylarks in the blue sky singing

When my eyes were burned by a Burgos tapas light

Late at night

Joyful feasting on Camino.

Through León’s streets the pilgrims roam

Chatting, laughing, far from home

Ponchos flashing when the rain comes pouring

Stories shared while the wine keeps pouring

But from Astorga on, the road grew calm and still

Peaceful hills

Marked the silence of Camino.

Then past Sarria the crowds appear

Noisy footsteps drawing near

Hundred kilometers all converging

Songs and greetings ever surging

And the bells of Santiago welcomed every soul

Reached the goal—

At the ending of Camino.