Hobbling a little now, I find myself deep within the dreaded Meseta. It’s all I heard about during those first nine days to Burgos. All of those, and you’ll meet many, who have walked the Camino before, fill you with trepidation about this famously fearsome stretch. There are countless harrowing tales of this endless, featureless, barren semi-desert. Soaring temperatures, infrequent water fountains and zero shade. Actually it’s wonderful. No electronic beepings of alarms wake me up and I stir to find that it’s already daylight. I congratulate myself on having slept well but then unnervingly realize that I am alone in the sixteen bunk dorm. Either everyone has left already or something terrible has happened to the planet in the night which somehow passed me by. Once you get used to them, earplugs can work a
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