Hope Walking

28/10/2024

Good morning and Happy Monday, everyone.
Had to start the week by sharing the wonderful news about our current total Camino funds raised for over 30 Eternal Flame Worldwide eco cookbags. THANK YOU all so much, valued supporters and encouragers.

And TWO opportunities to head out to Lesotho and Southern Africa with Ken Dunn Africa's Gift. Three places still available last two weeks of THIS November coming up, and I am saving to go out this February 2025 to help distribute the bags you did such a mighty fundraising effort for across the remotest regions, some only reachable on horseback or Malealea Development Trust's off road vehicle.

If you'd like to see the work we are doing close up, then do message me or Ken. More in the video and the Februrary trip will be similar to this year's one depending on numbers and availability: https://hopewalking.co.uk/african-adventure

21/10/2024

I love Thought for the Day. There's always something interesting and valuable to take from others' views on the world whatever their faith background, I find.

So yesterday morning I felt honoured to be invited to submit a reflection on my Camino experience across regional radio.

My Camino Coach Samantha Wilson Wild Camino wrote in her excellent ebook The Wild Woman's Guide to the Camino: 'Every extra kilo carried is a kilo of misery'. And of course she was right... in every sense.

Hear what I discovered on that 700 km outer and inner journey on BBC sounds now...

Thank you Sarah Major BBC Sheffield Leeds BBC York

Faye Smith reflects on her pilgrimage from Portugal to Santiago de Compostela in Spain.

17/10/2024

Can hardly believe I have been back a week already. My own space, cosy log fire and comfy bed are such a blessing, but I do miss following The Way. Especially when I am still getting regular messages from the pilgrims I had special connections with from Finisterre and Muxia... and James already embarking on the Camino del Norte.

Meantime, I can enjoy reading Ed's terrific summary in the Derbyshire Times and re-live those priceless moments.

With another generous donation, we have now achieved a life-giving £1095 for eco cookbags yesterday. Wonderful news. Thank you so much every single one who contributed any amount to the cause. Me and Africa's Gift Eternal Flame Worldwide Ken Dunn are so grateful.

Frustratingly, some of you have told us you are struggling to donate through Africa's Gift while the website is being upgraded, so here are our bag- making non-profit Eternal Flame Worldwide Ltd bank account details as promised:

Sort code: 04- 06-05
Acc number 16852754.

A Bakewell woman who turned to therapeutic walking after the death of her young daughter has this week completed a 700 kilometre pilgrimage through the Iberian peninsular, raising money along the way to help save the lives of families in rural Africa.

16/10/2024

Just head to 2hrs 48mins into the show on BBC Derby to hear my reflections on what walking all 700km of The Way has meant to me... and how I'd love to prescribe a Camino experience to all 2.8 million Britons struggling with working through their mental health issues at the moment.

I fully appreciate walking is no panacea to cure all our mental health problems, but with a toolkit of psychotherapeutic techniques to use during extended periods of self reflection in nature, it is a powerful remedy and invaluable foundation for many of us...

Martyn is here with Sunday morning music, news, conversation and faith discussion.

13/10/2024

On BBC Derby Radio talking all things camino completion with Martin now, Sunday peeps!

08/10/2024

Day 27: Santiago de Compostella 696/674

So hard to choose today's photos to tell the story of my last day walking into Santiago, but how can I leave you hanging? I have an hour before the high speed train gets into Madrid where the weather promises to be brighter and a degree or two warmer (at this stage, I will take DRY. DRY is good!).

Two days ago, the relentless unending drenching rain challenged even the most optimistic of pilgrim spirits. Yesterday I was relieved to feel my energy flowing back, despite the sheer physical enormity of what I had put this 58 year old body through. On my last day I woke after 'not enough but will do' sleep again, feeling absolutely focused and determined to complete every single step of those last 20 km. There was such great cameraderie in the lounge after last night's hilarity and rounds of cheers-ing as we parked our rucksacks and put on the still damp shoes which had been trying to dry out by the embers of the open fire the ebullient hostel manager had lit for us.

And yes, the pilgrim merch went on on on Jill White Vanessa Williams! My ten euro splash fluro-orange cyclists quick-dry T with all my stops from Lisbon to Santiago displayed. No mileage, sadly. A marketing design oversight which I needed to rectify later by purchasing a fridge magnet showing my true Litoral-Coastal mileage at 674 km!

I had arranged to meet my pilgrim pals at sunrise at their hostels en route. Cancun Alicia and New Zealand-via-West London Sophie were 2 km away just off the camino. Last night they told me they had all pooled all the bits of food they had left to create an impromptu pilgrim feast in a little family at the hostel table with others... such exemplifies the caring, sharing spirit of the camino to me.

Cork Ed had set off from his hostel at six, unable to sleep longer, so would meet us just outsude the centre to all walk in together. We hugged, happy danced to be sharing this last precious step of the journey in each other's company and set a good pace through villages of cobbled vine-covered pathways in the drizzle. Wizened grapes not yet harvested (for raisins later I wondered aloud?) had me contemplating all the skills, talents and potential people have to resource and refresh each other, so much never used to it's fullest... or at all. Especially in Lesotho, where without the invaluable work of Malealea Development Trust supported by Africa's Gift, the huge untapped potential of the land and people goes unused.

Locals shouting 'galle' (come on!) at us encouragingly. Older people waving from their chairs in upstairs windows. Once in the oak woodland, acorns crunching underfoot, the earth released its olfactory blessings as the heavens opened again. Drenched but determined, we marched on, exporting each other as the number 2 on the cairns turned into teens.

Stopping for one last mid morning cuppa together and sharing churros after roadways where we had seen two older couples get on buses. No judgement on camino. Each one to their own ability and journey, doing the best they can each day. Not tempted. Not today of all days. Every step. Do or die.

A brief stop for a trio photo by an inclusive church with a rainbow bench outside. An important marker for all of us that the camino we had experienced is a welcoming supportive place of grace, tolerance, inclusion, respect and diversity. A stunning wall art of fisher women cooking on the wall. 'Look Faye, it's like your Lesotho women cooking over their smokey pots- another sign?' smiles Sophie.

Going a km extra the wrong turn, so deep in conversation about childhood bereavement impact on children in the family. Cheering loudly at the single figures mile marker. It seems to be 5 point something km for over an hour, we agree!

A last stamp at the pilgrim's reception Magdalene chapel with a stained glass window that looks like Gabi.

And now here is Ed, waiting for us on the edge of the city walls with a high five and an ear-splitting grin. The four musketeers together again, I exclaimed. It was YOU who brought us together one by one, Sophie laughs. My utter pleasure. Our little camino family.

On we go through narrow streets filled with jostling pilgrim's among the locals, all eager for their first glimpse of their destination, the magnificent wonderous Glory facade of Santiago Cathedral. A mount joy moment indeed. I cry, streaming tears for the mental, emotional and physical effort it has taken to get me here. The hardships, the highs, companions for a day, for a week, the heat, the fires, the floods.

I cry for my father who would never drive us to Cornwall- top far- and didn't rate walking. I have just hiked further than that drive. In a month. Solo. With pack.

I cry for the girl I was, told at school she couldn't play sport, who had finally found something she loved and could do. Walk a long way. Day after day.

I cry for all the women who left husbands who wouldn't join them and dared the camino anyway. The ones who nearly gave up but kept going.

I cry fir all the damage, unspoken grief and unforgiveness I have shed on this journey and laid down on the aktar here in Santiago, never to pick up again.

I cry for the way Zach and I spur each other on to dare greatly, whether we fail or not, because the worst has already happened to us. Most of all I cry for Gabi who I absolutely know has been cheering me on every step of the way, reconciled to Duncan. With my father at the heavenly party... just waiting for me to join that greatest of all celebrations in my time.

And then I laugh, and laugh, and laugh. 'Did I tell you I have walked 700km from LISBON?!', I shout at the top of my voice to Sophie, Alicia, Ed and a square full of fellow pilgrims?

07/10/2024

Crying. Laughing. Done it. Believed I could. Thought I could, but didn't KNOW I could. I did.
More later dear friends and supporters... x

06/10/2024

Day 26: Padron 618/637

Better get this written before the hostel last night BBQ and Sangria party start shortly🤪🍷

Didn't have a great night's sleep. Kept itching from thankfully imagined bedbugs. Maybe it was the thought of dragging my wet n weary body another 44 km through an electric storm? Mind you, there were 25 of us in one huge hostel dorm.

Up with the rest of the stirring pilgrims at 7am. Yesterday's clothes still wet. With rainstorm forecast, no choice but to pull my running shorts on anyway which exacerbated the already painful chafing problem to red raw epic proportions by mid afternoon 😬🥹. My leaving was cheered by Sevilla-man, a cheery charming and v handsome cyclist who had prepared the most enormous supper the night before to some kind of hip hop Spanish version of My Way- then shared it round with other pilgrims, bless him. Discovering I had walked from Lisbon where he had started cycling, he high-fived and hugged me on my way this morning on his way to journey's- end, Santiago.

I hadn't got far when I passed a cyclist must have been in his seventies, checking his bike while his wife waited patiently, listening to Erasure's anthemic 'Respect' blasting out. I joined in loudly as I passed and his wife clapped! Music became the happy theme of today.

I followed an Australian woman playing Alison Moyet's 'Only You' to spur herself on. A few steps behind, I couldn't help but join in with the lyrics. As did she. Then we dueted on the chorus a capella style. Such hilarious fun. She stopped to change track and we cracked up, waved and moved on. That momentary fun- founded human connection again that is a trademark of the camino.

Emboldened as the rain started to fall, I began to sing Walking on Sunshine. Passing a couple of male hikers, they joined in briefly. Continental karaoke on the camino!

Shortly, I passed a couple with a baby in a sling. Massive kudos to them walking camino with a newborn I communicated with gestures. Only the third set of parents I had seen since Lisbon.

Next, I fell into step with a 25 year old German woman who had just finished uni and had booked the trip on the spur after an argument with her boyfriend (now 🤗) I asked if she was in pain because she had a huge knee brace on. She explained she was a very fit sportswoman and had decided to do the usual 14 day hike from porto in 10 days: around 30k a day. Four days in and this pace (what I was scheduled to do after Lisbon which gave me the golf ball blisters and nearly sent me home) had given her soft tissue damage, so she was limping on painkillers a more do-able 25k a day. A good lesson for us competitive souls, we agreed. Long haul, chilled pace, not a race, stop and enjoy the moment etc. So she stopped to rest and I carried on.

A quick stop in a kiosk for a takeaway cuppa with 4 k to go in torrential rain, the owner kindly gave me his own behind the counter own and wished me a buen camino. As I left soaked to the skin again, up came Mike from Minesota and Dave from Vancouver, two young men who had fallen into company in Porto and walked together ever since (they made the montage today!). I asked my usual intro questionn of why the camino and Dave said his relationship had ended at the weekend and he googled French trek, saw the camino and flew on a whim 4 days later because The Way seemed 'safe crazy!'

Peeling off to my hostel, we waved adios as they pressed further to Santiago, and I walked up the longest hostel track to see a pool. Hmmm. Checking in queue was long so I waited, dripping luxuriantly on the manager's floor when who should walk in but Keighley Penny, fresh from the Espiritual route. JC she exclaimed in amazement... so we celebrated with a Yorkshirewoman's swim in the pouring rain in the pool. For which feat I now have a free Sangria!

The BBQ smells ready, so off I go. 18.7k lies between me and the (alleged) bones of St James the apostle tomorrow.

Sophie, James, Edward and Alicia will all meet up in Santiago tomorrow, God willing. What a mighty celebration may well ensue almost 700km later.

See you on the other side... Etreia, suseia Santiago friends.

06/10/2024

For those who would like to hear my interview with the cheery Martyn Williams on the BBC Derby & Notts Sunday breakfast show recorded LITERALLY while I was walking the camino, just head to 2.49 into the show on this link...
https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p0jr37sk?partner=uk.co.bbc&origin=share-mobile

And they've asked me to talk more about all things pilgrimage, bereavement and faith journeys in the coming weeks. Exciting. Watch this space!

05/10/2024

Day 25: Caldas de Reis 595/637

As I put my nice dry kit into my rucksack (you can see what five week's worth of stripped- down essential backpack contents looks like below) and contemplated the next three days forecast, I admit to feeling a little low knowing I would be soaked theough in under an hour. By the end of the day, my feet look like I have got leprosy after swimming in six hours of water logged trainers.

Off I went through the still lamp-lit streets as the sun tried to peek through the mist rolling over the Roman bridge. Past the fascinating archaeological dig revealing the medieval harbour wall I had spotted yesterday in the pilgrim throng. Ponchos are sensible but do make their wearers look like a rainbow coloured convention of Quasimodos, I smiled to myself.

Out of town past shops and cafes, today's route through village streets covered by vines with a few more succulent tiny red grapes to tempt me and sweet chestnuts strewn generously across the path. And throughout my journey, what look like tiny stone chapels on stilts, but are actually grain stores away from rodents- which again got me reflecting on what we store and build what the Bible calls 'bigger barns' for, instead of sharing...

A few kilometres in and I spotted a pilgrim veering into a church. I almost walked past in my search for the first essential cipppa of the day, but something prompted me to follow her in. I am so glad I did.

Free refreshments by the door of this beautiful, atmospheric medieval monastery-auberge, offered by American George. He volunteers to offer chaplaincy to pilgrims who are seeking something spiritual from their camino among the many who are doing the trek for fitness challenge or other reasons, with the monk in charge... who was away today.

I agreed that yes, I did have a faith and was on camino primarily for a spiritual circuit-breaker while walking. George then 'happened' to mention they had a particular ministry to bereaved people and invited me to take a seat in their quiet lounge (in the montage). As I walked in, the first thing I noticed was the wine press. I immediately resonated. I had been feeling pressed like those grapes. In Porto visiting a family vineyard we were told we were a week too early for the traditional grape crushing, where villagers literally stamp all over the grapes with bare feet to release the juice. And as I walked away I remembered Gideon was called by God to be a fighter not fearful, while hiding in a wine press.

Meantime George prayed for me and others who needed more than just the walk in a quiet, unassuming but powerful way, then told me intently, they needed volunteers through each summer to chaplain those seeking support on The Way. Much to mull over as I walked away from that profound encounter.

It's a tougher way to walk at the moment. The weather has caused dampened spirits among the pilgrims who are still offering a buen camino to each other, but more subdued and less chat between us as our heads are down against the torrents. When I left the next cafe, I was momentarily lifted by a group of six Spanish women about my age in the doorway looking at the emptying sky with dismay. 'Couragio' exhorted their feisty leader in good cheer, and I kept repeating that word to myself until my lunch stop several miles hence. And singing 'Singing in the rain' at the top of my voice!

2pm. Only 4 km to go to my hostel, but I've had enough and need another hot drink and my Froiz lunch purchased yesterday. So I sit outside a busy cafe and am asked if two other women can sit at my table. Sure, I say. One goes to order and I admire the other's stylish rancher hat with a jaunty sprig of leather tucked into the band. Jan from Brisbane tells me she was given it by a guy reading a mindful meditation in a roadside garden that morning.

She tells me she is walking to remember her daughter Katy who died of epilepsy last year aged 40. I share about Gabi. She is astounded and tells her returning friend Cathy, this encounter was meant to be. We exhange phone photos of our daughters, cry, hug and bless each other's onward journeys.

That carries me through those seemingly endless last kilometers.

Hostel. Hot shower. Dryer broken 😭😱. Wash clothes I know won't dry overnight. Stuff newspaper into trainers. Make up bed. Strip soaking rucksack of my inner drybags. That won't dry out either🤨 No cooker. Raid supermarket down the street for only microwave meal I can find: a rather claggy lasagne. Still, it seemed a better option than trying to find a restaurant in the pouring rain now I'm dry at least. Am I selling you on the Camino yet?!😆

Curl up and write this after catching up with Zach, realising my video earlier cut off the fabulous fact that Lesley Africa's Gift messaged me this morning my total funds raised have LEAPED from £637 target to an astonishing £975!

I don't have a list of all you precious people who donated yet and Lesley is on a well deserved week's holiday now, but know I am SO GRATEFUL AND UPLIFTED by your encouragement and generosity.

I'd frankly love to get a nice warm taxi at this stage with tomorrow's forecast⛈️, but knowing how much we've raised, I will force myself out into the stormy rain and plod my 24 km to the De Jesus Hostel at Padron as planned🚶‍♀️.

If anyone who planned to give but hasn't yet would like to lift us to £1000, that would be a brilliant way to start my last 48 hours of trekking🥰🫶.

I am off to think about what I might say on BBC Radio Derby's Sunday show tomorrow 8.45am, providing they can get a signal through these torrents🎤🎧

Buen camino friends.

04/10/2024

Rest day 0.4 Pontevedra

Four rest days in a 30-day through hike. Now realise I was not thinking clearly when that journey seemed even vaguely reasonable. Porto seemed like stuck-ness, but that enforced rest was also a blessing in disguise... especially for my feet.

Today I have consulted my fitbit app over breakfast and as I type, have walked 615 km so far, with 65k more to do before my journey ends in Santiago on Monday. That's almost York to Land's End. Not far off Coast to Coast plus Pennine Way by Thursday. I would have laughed if you'd have told me I could do that in a month... with a pack... solo... sleeping in mixed dorm hostels... in two foreign countries... but here I am🤜🙏🦶💪

Today I remembered the quote from Nelson Mandela, whose Robben Island cell I stood in back in February on my last Ken Dunn Africa's Gift activation trip to Southern Africa:
"First it seems impossible, then it is done."

Today I managed a little more sleep and had a slow start to the day. I felt drawn back to the Pilgrim church where I prayed for friends in difficult circumstances. For a euro, I climbed to the top of the cupola which reminded me of my Canterbury Cathedral pilgrimage.

Descending, I popped into my favourite cafe behind the church and started to plan my day from the hotel free tourist map. Who should appear but an Australian guy who had asked us about the pilgrim mass last night. We got chatting and he joined me. For an hour. In which time me and this Queensland journalist- turned pastor covered a lot of ground. Deconstruction, spiritual abuse, post-modern Christianity, fresh expressions, narcissistic pastors, loss, discipleship and more. Not my usual brunch conversation with a total stranger.

This precious soul was limping heavily with serious knee pain from an old motorcycle injury and had to come to terms with meeting his travelling companions in Santiago instead of walking there, on doctor's advice. I empathised. Forest fires changed my plans. But we agreed each of our journeys in still unique and valuable, no matter what shape they take...

Phil shared how his incusive small church welcomed everyone, no matter how drunk, stoned, poor, addicted, difficult. And how hard it was as a pastor when other church members criticised him, complaining about their worship being disturbed. Tears started to roll down both our faces as we shared stories of pain and challenge.

Phil thanked me for entrusting him with my story. As I did him. He moved on with his friends. I went to pay my bill and discovered he had covered it. This is the true spirit of the Camino, friends. A truly spiritual experience, no matter your faith position.

I then headed off for a personal treat... the archaeological museum and regional art gallery. A stunning building: one half modern, one half ancient- built into the medieval city walls. I toured the entire ancient galleries completely alone in delight, then loved the Galician art gallery spanning three centuries. A wonderful window into Northern Spanish culture from paleolithic to the 1970s!

Seeing the discovered treasure hoardes of stunning golden torques and bangles found under Ponte Vedra's streets, I was reminded of how human beings seek to gather wealth and status symbols like these. And in times of threat, we bury it instead of sharing it. Those ancients thought they would be back for those precious items... but instead, they stayed undiscovered for centuries never seeing the light of day. A timely reminder how little I have proved I actually need to live with and on during this pilgrimage, and how important it is to share what we have in the time we have left. Burying our 'talents' helps no one.

A wander around every street of the Old Town, then a brief sprint around Froiz (replacement for my old Portuguese friend, Mini Preco) to buy lunch, with a cafe stop in the municipal gardens to eat under cover of a green tea and a touch-base with my lovely mum. While talking, I watched a man try to reason with his tantrumming three year old son in the park and- without language- shot him a 'we've all been there' look of empathy. Back a week yesterday, I reassured mum as we rang off.

I headed to the town square to write this before midnight for a change, and saw the unbridled joy of children chasing pigeons in the town square. Something I remember my children enjoying in London when they visited their Godmother. It's hard going back, sometimes. My heart hurts.

I am once again approached in my bar by a beggar while typing... several times a day. I find it hard, but wether they are a person with a disability- and I have seen a few on this pilgrimage. Short limbs, wheelchair user, facial disfigurement- I make sure to greet them warmly with eye contact and a friendly smile. We must give each other dignity and empathy, no matter what. We are all human beings.

Tomorrow is threatening thunderstorms and heavy rain for my next 22km to my dorm. 3 days and 65km to go. No matter what, I can do it. I will complete my camino. Santiago is waiting.

Etreia, suseia, Santiago my pilgrims.

03/10/2024

Day 24: Pontevedra 563/ 627

Woke feeling less than fresh after our first party night (or so it felt after a largely teatotal early bed, early rise days on camino so far.) To heavy mist and mizzle again... but wonder of wonders, the rain held off and the sun even came out in the afternoon. First day my arms were out with no factor 50 since I arrived in Lisbon and they even got a bit pink. Hard to credit after endless lashing rain.

Putting on my still-damp clothes, the nose-wrinkling smell reminded me of the kayaking kit smell at Min Y Don! And I have a nasty red itchy sore hikers rash on both thighs where my wet shorts clearly acted like sand paper.

Off I strode swigging water, because today I had heard was our hilliest day. I have deliberately not looked at each day's elevation because the mileage is enough to know in advance, to prevent feeling defeated before starting. A good lesson for life.

The first pilgrim I met on the long slog uphill out of town, was Diana-Marie from Alberta Canada. What a woman. In her 70s, Diana has planned to come on camino for 20 years. She finally booked her trip with a friend for 2020, then covid struck. Two years later, the ladies were down to set off when Diana (top left) became so incapacitated with arthritis, she had to cancel the trip. Her friend couldn't get insurance cover so went solo, half cycling.

So this year was it, and here was Diana-Marie bright as a button in her 70s giving the camino her all. She was so impressive, I told her. My new role model. She shrugged off my nonsense humbly. We talked about our lives, keeping healthy in later life and the smell of earth fresh from rain, casused by petrichor. As she stopped for an extended breather, Penny caught me up, then passed me, recognising I was in a pensive mood that day. Or more likely a bit worse for wear for last night's sangria?

I meditated on how much heavier my pack felt going uphill today. I hardly notice it on other occasions now I have hardened up, but add rain, slippery cobbles and gradient to the existing pack weight and an unhealthy combination ensues. It reminded me of how much we carry in life. We manage until tough times come not realising how much heaviness we have accumulated, but then we often need support to identify then our own will to jettison the load that weighs us down. And plenty of water to keep hydrated!

Having climbed high to look back into Redondela, we had a beautiful perspective on the coast. Taking a picture of which nearly ended in catastrophe. Reaching to pick up my poles I fumbled one, which resulted in them both tumbling through metal railings 10 feet into a grassed area below. I was about to attempt a dangerous rescue, belly flopping over the fence in PANIC, when thank God he drew my attention to a small bolt hidden on the other side of a discreet gate. Saved.

There were many pilgrims on the path today now we are under the critical compostela-worthy 100km mark. We hiked through the sweet- smelling eucalyptus and oak woods alone, in groups and couples. I have seen a few mother- daughter pilgrims and must admit, that has been the hardest to bear.

I was able to smile at the entrepreneurial spirit of the Spaniards determined to part us from our pennies for pilgrim merch today. Every kilometre there seemed to be a hay-bale forest lounge with Adele assuring me she would find someone like me, trailers with pay as you feel snacks and cold drinks, and stands selling every form of arrow/ scallop shell themed item of jewellery you could imagine, tempting us in with the essential two-a-day stamps. Sad to see so many cairns covered in pictures of loved ones pilgrims are walking the camino to remember. Today for the first time the route started to feel a bit Disneyland theme park-like after the natural beauty of the woods.

Thankfully with 6km of my 20 to go, there was an option to walk a slightly longer route by the river or instead choose the drier roadway.
The river was beautiful and peaceful and not too muddy, thankfully. As I walked alongside the clear, gurgling stream I was reminded of Psalm 23... 'He leads me beside still waters.' Tiny minnows in the deeper water, a robin on a pilgrimage sign, a small brown meadow butterfly chasing sunbeams... And boy did I need stillness after arriving a month ago today, frazzled from Manchester airport. And sad to think I will be back home this time next week.

I checked into my (one star but joy- my own room has a BATH!) Hotel. Emptied my rucksack, sorted my clothes, had a bath up to my nose, washed my clothes in it then hung them on the balcony carefully with strategic safety pins.

Into the old town to see the church of the Pilgrim virgin Mary. And who should be in the cafe opposite, but pilgrims Evelyn and Malcolm, who invited me to join them and bought me a cuppa and cake. How generous. We chatted about the effectiveness of Africa's Gift eco cookbags, microloans and more of the best methods to help the most economically disadvantaged.

I then went in search of some supper, only to be invited to join retired expat Liverpool property developing pilgrim Tony for tapas.

We traded stories of The Way, huge benefits of walking every day for mental health, his new life in Spain and agreed we were both thankful for a rest day tomorrow.

Buen camino, pilgrims.