Strike: the third day in a row that we’ve got up at 2 in the morning to escape the sun that once scorched the back of Don Quixote’s neck. The faces at first breakfast looked like a casting call for The Walking Dead, but we didn’t mind much because, now that there’s hardly any moon, at that hour everything is pitch black and people are more worried about not breaking an ankle than about looking at the face of the person next to them.
During the first part of the stage, the one we walk under the stars, one of our youngest, Andreu Passola, caught a rabbit that was nursing a hangover and was a bit slow on the reflexes. We also passed a nightclub lost in the middle of the countryside, and the music, booming out of speakers worthy of Tomorrowland, finished waking us up.
Apart from the morning chill, there were no incidents until the usual stop. Before we started celebrating that it’s Sunday with doughnuts the size of rubber rings, we had a photo shoot with a sunrise that has nothing to envy the one at the start of The Lion King.
The second part was hot, brisk and entertaining, with a single break to make the traditional video call that we pilgrims make with the parishioners of our parishes. An iconic moment was when Nacho Campmany, Viaró through and through, with a tie around his neck and a pin on his chest, had the courage (or the recklessness) to have a go at La Farga in front of 8 Farga lads, unleashing a storm of pride and school honour that had to be defended tooth and nail.
The end came sooner rather than later and, having just completed today’s 36 km stage, we had lunch, and Fr Bernat’s name was chanted by the walkers once again when he treated us to ice creams to celebrate Our Lady of Mount Carmel.
The afternoon was quiet; back to the spiritual trident: meditation from Fr Bernat, adoration and Mass (with the psalm sung by Norah in the purest Neocatechumenal style). Today, in the pilgrim’s book, Moses speaks to us about one of the plagues ravaging our society: materialism. Fr Bernat encouraged us to look at what we are clinging to and what is stopping us from being free. To love truly, you have to be free of everything, not clinging to anything. God alone suffices.
We went back to the sports centre in more of a hurry than usual. The reason? The one and only Josep Maria Torrelles has come to join us for 5 days, with the bonus of treating us to the best catered dinners while he’s with us.
The get-together was intense. The highlight was Fer Marqués’s remix of “Twist and Shout” with “La bamba”, which cost him his vocal cords and his guitar strings, while Santi Salvador (who looked more like Jimi Hendrix) accompanied him until his fingers bled. Not to be outdone, the girls sang a little tune in several voices dedicated to Manzanares, this lovely, dehydrated place.
Meanwhile, Petitó (our famous Uri Gel) once again starred in another scene for the get-togethers’ Hall of Fame, when he decided to recruit his own little army of men, lined them up in twos and, with the cross in front, started singing the Colombian army’s marching song “Máquina de Guerra, Máquina de Muerte”, while ten hoarse throats echoed every line he let out. Because that’s what we do in the men’s guild to boost morale once we’re past 40 km.
That’s all the updates from our logbook. Good night and sweet dreams, family!
PS: We’re in La Vanguardia!