After a mostly sleepless night, spent mostly in the bathroom, I knew for certain that I was not well. Camino flu, albergue fever, whatever you call it (like norovirus), I had it. No way could I manage 17 kms with no place to rest and no facilities. The Scouse Spouse went off into the dusk while I carried on sleeping, hoping to stay in the room until midday if they would let me.
I asked about a taxi as I checked out, and was told to go to the taxi rank down the road, which seemed a world away. So I tried to have a basic pilgrim breakfast: croissant, café con leche and an ice cold Aquarius. Two out of three ain’t bad, as they say, I managed the drinks.
This was the sum total of my sightseeing. The taxi rank had no taxis, you had to go inside a bar and book one and then wait for it on the other side of the road. The gentleman who picked me up entertained me all the way there with tales of when he visited Liverpool, so in a flash we were in Ledigos.
Again I just checked in and went straight to bed. Four hours later I felt marginally better but still couldn’t face food. The poor Scouse Spouse had power walked past the 17 kms and was now tired and overheating, and took his time getting there. He forgot to take photos, but I have this classic from 2012:
Sitting outside in the cool evening I started feeling a bit better. I didn’t suspect food poisoning or anything, it must have been the mystery bug which seems to hit pilgrims on the meseta – I have had it before, in 2014, and it was over in a day or two. After all this sleep and rest I should be fine again in the morning, so we looked forward to walking to Sahagún together the next day.