I unberstand that my posts are not getting on to my blog site. I can find them but maybe I have been putting them into drafts or something. At any rate it is May 30, I am in Olot waiting for a bus to Besalu with some time to spare so will see if I can try something else.

I got back into hiking on the 28th walking 10 km up a railtrail to St. Joan de A….. . Getting to the trailhead and then into town at the end it probably was closer to 12 km. At any I felt great and covered the distance in about 2 1/2 hours. I generally don´´t like these kind of trails because the grade is not demanding and the scenery dull, but in this case the scenery especially for the first half was quite enjoyable. You are surrounded on every side by what they call pre-mountains, some pastures and a couple of hamlets along the way. When I was finished I thought that I would have been able to do another 5 or 10 km but didn´´t have any idea where to find another place to stay except St Joan.

St. Joan (which is Catalan for St. John) is very picturesque. There is a quaint old stone bridge going into the town; lots of old churches, monestaries etc. For anyone that is into old architecture or history it is ideal. For me it is interesting but you see so many ancient structures in this country it gets ho-hum. I can appreciate all of the work that went into the stone masonry though. It must have been hurculean work five or six hundred years ago.

The trail is actually a fair height above the town and what was the old station was converted last year into an neat-looking albergue with a nearby restaurant. That seemed like a great idea to me so I checked the albergue as a possible place to spend the night. However, it was open only from 10 to 1 and then 5 to 8, so I went to see the town below thinking that I might check into the hostal that I had seen earlier from the trail. That idea didn´´t last long because at ground level it was easy to see that it was being demolished. There were signs for two Pensios downtown but I thought that I would speak with the tourist office first. Of course it was closed but opening again at 4 so I did some more wandering, found the bus ¨station”, noting that there was no bus out until the next day. When I checked the tourist office it was still closed but a new sign had been added that today it would only be open from 5. I really had nowhere else to go so made myself comfortable in one of the many little parks close by and had no trouble in dozing off. On queue, two attendants arrived at 5. Concerning the bus service, the form printed off on the computer showed that there was one leaving in about an hour. Thus there would be no need to look for a place to stay here so I headed back to the bus station wondering why the schedule posted differed from the computer. I took a close look at the printout and although I don´´t read (or speak) any Catalan it is close enough to Spanish that I can usually figure it out. I was pretty sure that the bus leaving in an hour only ran on Saturdays so returned to the TO where they confirmed my translation. Now I did need a place to stay but in my wanderings I had only found one of the pensios and it had ceased operations. The attendant called the other one but they were full apparently. That left the albergue as the only option so she called there to at about 5:30. It was an extraordinarily long conversation but in the end the word was that if I could get there before 6:00 they could put me up. Needless to say I hustled up the hill to check in. It was as neat inside as out. I don´´t know what the attendant had to do but after taking my passport he went into his office and didn´´t appear for close to ten minutes. I had a form to fill out too but also lots of time to spare. When he returned he advised that breakfast would be at 8:00. This was a problem since the latest bus yesterday left at 8:15. I suggested that I would skip breakfast until I got to Olot and he could reduce my bill accordingly. (By the way it turned out that he spoke about as much French as I which assisted in our communications). My suggestion didn´´t meet with his favour. Although it was obvious that I was the only client there was no way not to have breakfast provided. His solution was to phone the woman who came in on demand to “prepare” breakfast and she agreed that a 7:30 start would be OK. That problem being settled he successfaully escorted me to my room on the second try. There were five beds for me to choose from and a locked door which was a bonus in an albergue do I was feeling quite pleased with the way things had turned out. That was until I realized that he had not returned my passport and he was gone. I spoke to the cleaning lady who was still on duty who didn´´t seem very concerned. The guy in charge would be in at 10 in the morning and did I really need it anyway. In the end she said that the woman in charge of making breakfast would solve the problem. The bed was your typical hostal fare so along with its uncomfortableness, I had to worry about waking in time for breakfast (no alarm clock), whether the woman would be on time and retrieve my passport and whether I could get to the bus on time. I slept well until 4 but after that not so good. I was looking forward to checking out the modern looking shower but there were a couple of problems there. The shower head was stationery and aimed out the front door. The water started by pushing a knob and shut off automatically after 10 seconds. That was long enough to douse some of my clothing and towel that I had just dropped on the floor outside the front door. My first effort was to move the shower head then to try to find a way to turn off the water and finally to shut the door. With the automatic shut off there was no time for the hot water to arrive in the stall so I had my first cold shower in some time. It wasn´´t a promising start to the day. Nontheless, I wouldn´´t have to look for a place to have breakfast because the chef arrived on schedule and with a phone call to the man in charge was able to return my passport. I endured the worst breakfast of my trip. The highlight was a small bottle of orange juice, coupled with two slices of stale bread barely toasted and a cup of hot milk (from the micro) with instant coffee powder. (I didn´´t know that it existed in Spain.) Despite all of the problems the idea of the albergue and restaurant is a good one replacing the train station is a good one. By the way I had an excellent meal at the restaurant. I did make the trip down the hill to catch my bus with two minutes to spare so I needn´´t have worried. Nice trip to Olot .

It is a beautiful Monday in Jaca in the Aragonese Pyrenees. The temperature is 24 the sky is mainly clear and I am staying in a good one star hotel.

I haven´t made notes since I did the mountain climb in the Picos de Europa. My pen ran out of ink and the replacement hasn´t worked. Besides that I contracted my first cold of the season and wasn´t up to par to say the least. My intention was to keep up to date on a chronological basis but I can hardly remember where I was yesterday never mind two weeks ago. So i am going to start with today (I think that it is May 24) as see how far I get.

I just came from the train station where I bought a ticket to go to Huesca tomorrow. I was there yesterday too. It is pretty dormant as train stations go but there is this interesting bar attached uniquely named “cantina de estacion”. There were several motorcycles parked outside and a dozen San Miguel (beer) tables under trees so I figured it must be worth a visit. I would have stayed outside (tho only place to get away from the smoke) but there was some Mexican sounding music coming from inside that attracted me indoors where there were only a couple of patrons. Instead of a brass bar footrest it is a railroad track here. Over the door to the station is a witch on a broom, a bucket on the bar containing a few bottles of wine and an ancient telephone on the wall (the kind you wind). It is generally just cluttered but there is a lot of old railway memoribilia on the wall too. I found the atmosphere to be generally cool but it was the music that really got to me. The server is a fiftyish redhead who may have played hockey at some time because a few of her teeth are missing. I clued in that the msic was from a CD when it didn´t match whatever was on TV. At first I thought that it might have been Willey Nelson singing but I soon realized that this guy had a good voice. My next thought was that it was a popular Mexican folk singer so I had to ask. No, the singer was not Mexican he was Spanish by the name of Joaquin (pronounced Walkeen) Sabina and I have the name of the particular CD that the server obviously enjoyed too. While we were talking a female voice started singing harmony. She had a powerful but smooth voice and together they were fantastic. Apparently she died two years ago. Her name was Rocio Durral. This is why I went back to the station today, buying the ticket was incidental. It wasn´t the same CD today but Joaquin was again featured.

This was my first time in a decent hotel for quite a while so my laundry was away behind. As far as I know there are no laundromats in Spain and I am hardly comfortable sleeping in hostels yet let alone hanging out laundry there. By the time tomorrow morning comes I should be good for a week or more.

I must mention that my left foot has been giving me some problems. I had a plantar´s wort that I thought that I had removed before leaving but after some of the heavy duty walks early on, some pain would return after 10 km or so. Trying to remedy this I used some Dr. Scholl´s that would help for a day but I was hesitant to continue. When we arrived on the bus yesterday I noticed a sign post to a hospital. I headed that way, found my hotel in a couple of blocks and continued on to see in Emergency would look at it. (There are a lot of directional signs in Jaca but I have yet to see any with distance mentioned). It is more than a km to the hospital. The emergency room was empty, but I wasn´t sure that this was a good sign. A door soon opened and an efficient looking young lady enquired about my problem and particularly which part of the foot was involved. It was clear that I was a foreigner so she soon got to the question of insurance but neither my travel insurance nor my Ontario Health card impressed her. If I wanted anyone to look at it I would have to pay 100 Euros minimum and collect when I got home. However, there was another option. I could go to the health centre where an examination would cost on 60 Euros. She confirmed that the health centre was open 24 hours and gave me a map putting an “x” on its location. That was as much as I could expect I guess but I put my next visit off until today.

Finding the health centre was one of today´s priorities and I started early (like 10:00). The map was a little blurry and the “x” obliterated the names of about three streets in the area but I zeroed in as best I could by going around in ever decreasing circles and thinking it strange that there were no signposts. I was about to give up when I noticed a small Spanish flag just off of a small alley that was in the designated area so I investigated before giving up. Upon examination the sign read “Municipal Centre for Drug Addiction”! Did she make a mistake or did she think that I had another problem besides the one we discussed? I figured that I should make another attempt anyway so I asked in a pharmacy where I was directed me to the other side of town. There were also signposts in the area this time. There was a counter there staffed by two people and on my first visit it seemed that they would help. However, I had to contact the insurance company for permission to proceed. I have their number and just have to make a collect call. I asked at my hotel first, was directed to a Western Union type place, then to a public phone and a dead end. The instructions on the phone are in 4 languages and one item was for information on making international calls, just call three digits. I did this but nothing happened except that two lines of instruction appeared on the screen ONLY IN SPANISH and I had no idea what the problem was. Next I decided to look for the Tourist Office which I quickly learned was in the Cathedral Plaza and I knew generally where that was. I still had trouble finding it and could not believe that it was not signposted. Just standing around wondering what to do I looked at the window in front of me and it was the Tourist Office. The name was on the window and the door but both were recessed so that it was impossible to read it unless you were directly in front of it. At any rate the guy was helpful in getting me connected to the insurance company but I am also sure that his office just paid for my call. He certainly didn´t tell me how to make a collect call (if he knew). Armed with an authorization number I returned to the Healthe Centre but got to speak to the other person behind the counter and there were several other customers around now. I knew that I would have to pay but this person seemed to have some more conditions that she related to me over and over again louder and faster when it was clear that I wasn´t understanding. Finally she hit on a word I knew, “manaña”. I believe that she was telling me to come back tomorrow but I could be wrong. At any rate, I made the decision to see what I could find in a pharmacy and make no further plans for long distance hikes. I now have 6 pads from Johnson and Johnson that are supposed to provide relief and so far so good with the first one. My only concern is that I could do damage, so if these things don´t work I will try the medical system somewhere else.

Those are two of my priorities; a third was to return keys that I walked away with from a previous hotel that was exceptionally good (another story). I just needed to find the post office (or a courier) to fulfill this objective so in my other searches I would keep my eyes peeled. I thought I had made the discovery when I noticed that one of the streets was named “Avenida de Correos”, roughly Post Office Avenue. I went from one end to the other but there was no post office. While trying to find a decent internet spot I stopped at a computer store near the hotel because internet was mentioned in the window. He gave classses or something but knew exactly what I wanted and directed me to this place near the Gran Hotel (which again I roughly knew). I found this cibercafe without too much difficulty but it was closed until 5:00. However, in the process I noticed the Post Office just down the street. I was amazed how smoothly it went to return the keys. They sell the bubbletype packages (although not on display) and helped me with the address. I would have left out the province otherwise.

My final objective for today was to do something with this blog. It is now 8:20 and a good time to start looking for something to eat so I will close at that.

Sad day in San Sebastian. Umbrellas are in order. Moving on to Pamplona.

More later.

I am out of notes so this is for memory. Very dangerous. My last post was for Friday I believe when I climbed the mountain near Panes.

On Saturday it was my intent to move on skipping my endeavour to get to Potes. However, there are only two buses out og Panes on Saturday and I missed the first one because I needed sleep I guess. The second one was around 5:00 so I had a lot of time to put in with no energy to do anything. City Hall was closed so I had no access to internet either. Although my legs were still complaining I walked from one end of town to the other a couple of times, got some grub and had a nap on a park bench. The concierge (owner) of the hotel had stashed my backpack somewhere so I didn´t have it to tote around. He was always there but with ten minutes to bus time he was nowhere to be seen. I explained my dilemma to the bartender (who I had come to know pretty well) and he saved the day finding the backpack in some closet and the bus stopped at the front door.

My trip just went to San vicente de la Barquera because I wanted to get bunked down reasonably early. Although it is right on the water (when the tide is in), there is a multiple span bridge , a lot of hotels and restaurants, I instantly disliked it. I went to a one star hotel close to the bus station thinking that it might be at the low end of the price scale but it wasn´t. I was too tired to go looking elsewhere so settled in to the smallest crappiest room so far. After wandering around later I did come across cheaper accomodation but there was nothing to change my first impression of the place. There were a lot of older visitors around and I figured that at one time this place used to be a posh place for locals to spend a weekend but it was pretty dreary now.

On to Bilboa Sunday where there is a tourist office in the bus terminal and it was open. I received a map showing the location of all the cheap hotels which were all on the other side of the city. However there was internet access right across the street. I also needed some cash but the second ATM I found was working. Now I just had to find a place to stay and figure out how to cross the city. The bus station is next to the football stadium and there was a game starting shortly so the bar I was in was filling up quickly. That was an advantage because I just had to walk against the flow of people going to the game. Although I had the map I was pretty confident about the direction so didn´t use it at all for the first half hour. On my first reading I was amazed to find that I was pretty well on track. I thought that rates might be cheaper on the side of the river away from the old section so headed there and found three hostals plus a one star hotel. I checked out the one star first but predictably didn´t like the price. The first hostal I checked had no room for singles but I was in luck with the second. There was even an Indian restaurant right across the street. My initial exploring trip turned up an internet cafe where I spent two hours in the smoke-filled room trying to catch up on my communications. My eyes are just getting back to normal now. The old section of Bilbao is interesting but generally dirty. I was disappointed actually. It wasn´t the lively friendly place that I remembered from two years ago. The Indian meal was good but not the service or the price. My room was OK but the fire alarm went off during the night probably due to smoking. Unless you are outdoors it is hard to get away from smoke.

Rose in decent time, the weather looked good, the concierge enlisted a taxi so we were off to Alevia, a 3 km climb that I was glad I chose not to walk.  After showing the driver my proposed destination on my map, I think he tried to discourage me.  However, there was another route from the same trailhead that he felt would be better for me.  He apparently did some maintenance at one of the two communication towers that we could see on the top of the mountain range.  We drove almost to the start but I could see that one trail went to the left and another to the right and I was not sure which one he thought I should take.  The markings were clear on the left hand trail so that decided the issue.

It started with a cow path that was quite steep through low brush and brambles, necessitating a couple of stops to catch my breath.  There were also a few muddy bogs but they cleared up after some 500 metres. The markings and the footing were good so I was pleased with my choice.  Eventually there was a fence to climb but it was clear that the trail went beyond it.  Apparently it was to prevent the cattle from going up further, because the trail became much narrower, suited only to goats.  Actually I saw a herd of them a long way up prancing along what seemed to be sheer cliffs.  Even at this point the path ran perilously close to the edge of the mountain.  I tried hard not to look down too often because it made you realize that a misplaced step could send you hurtling down the mountain.  Fortunately it wasn´t too hard to look anywhere except where you should plant your feet.  This continued for a long time and then came the switchbacks that the goats used to climb the steeper parts of the rock face I guess.  After about a dozen there was another gate to climb that led into a relatively level green pasture with horses, cattle sheep and more goats.  While negotiating the switchbacks three huge golden eagles swooped by, probably checking out their next meal I thought. 

I took a good rest in the pasture and a GPS reading, indicating an altitude of 565 metres or a climb of 200 metres from the trailhead.  On this kind of plateau were a lot of stone fences and animal shelter buildings and the trail now followed cart tracks so it was no longer that demanding.  However, the trail often went down and then up over hills and markings became less frequent .  Before too long the tower to which I was headed came into clear view, so there was little need for markings anyway.  It was often much shorter to take my own route and that worked out well except once when I made a steep scramble to regain the trail to be faced by a half dozen fierce looking horned cattle in my straight ahead.  They didn´t look upset just curious I thought, but they seemed to have no intention of moving on while I faced them for a minute or so.  Discretion being the better part of valour I devised another detour that took me to the tower.  Wow, what a view.  I had been able to see the Bay of Biscay for a while but now there were dozens of mountains in view too.  Many of the peaks were higher and some had snow caps but I resisted the urge to take on the next one and contented myself with taking another GPS reading (720 metres).  I can now understand why mountain climbers just have to climb.  Even though I was getting tired upon gaining the pasture level, there was no thought of not forging on to the top. 

On the way down I totally passed up trying to follow the cart trail or the signed trail but set the GPS to direct me to the point at the edge of the pasture and choosing whatever path seemed good.  I came out 9 metres away from where I had stopped on the way up (I thought it should have been closer).  Going back down the switchbacks and goat trails was more intimidating than coming up.  It is hard not to look off into the empty space in front of you.  I did keep switching my walking stick from hand to hand so that it was always on the down side of the path.  All went well to the next gate but it seemed longer than I recalled.  The cattle trail was not a big challenge now but I managed to scratch my left wrist on a raspberry cane.  I stopped at the top of the 3 km road to attend to my wrist and get some rest on a stone wall enclosing a mare and her foal.

Going down the road was the worst part of the hike.  Every step was the same as the previous one, the grade was steep as roads go and of course the surface was hard.  It became very painful and even looking forward to the beer that I knew I would have didn´t do that much after a while.

The beer was good and so was the second one with some kind of a bar sandwich.  The nap that followed was good too but when I awoke I had a runny nose and all of my leg muscles were screaming especially those on the front of my shins and my hips.  I was feeling so miserable I didn´t go out to eat but just had another granola bar, thinking it was good that tomorrow would be a travel day.

I am really messing up good.  The last time I wanted to make  an entry I thought that I should put in a nwe heading that I called “travel day”.  This will have no heading so I can´t say where it will go.  If you can find the last post this will follow.

I slept in until 8:30 so was too late to get a bus to Potes as planned.  Instead I  caught a bus to  Torrelavega at 12:00.The bus station and cafeteria in Torrelavega were clean  so had lunch and looked for the Tourist Office that was marked as being 1km away.  With help I found that it had closed 15 minutes earlier.  Looked for hostals in town but saw none until I came across the train station where I bought a ticket to Cabezon de la Sal.  The temperature was hitting plus 30.  It was a scenic ride with the landscape reminding me of Costa Rica but fortunately the temperature dropped because of higher altitude.  Cabezon is a real neat quiet town but the closest I came to finding a place to stay was a phone number offering rooms.  Unfortunately I couldn´t figure out how to use the phone in the train station.  I did find the Tourist Office on my tour but it was closed until 4:30 and the only remaining train was to leave just after 5:00.  When I bought the ticket there was a long train already standing on the platform and figured that it was mine waiting to leave at 5:07.  Wanting to know which of the 10 coaches was mine I asked a security guy who just referred me to two approaching railway employees.  One was a woman who spoke good English and said I could take any coach and board right where we were standing.  She added that I would be more comfortable if I sat in the shade until 10 minutes before departure though.  When that interval passed nothing had happened so I thought that I should take matters into my own hands and tried to open the door of the coach directly in front of me.  It was locked so I tried the next and the next with the same result.  The security guy must have been watching because he came running to say that this wasn´t my train.  Mine was coming in as soon as this one left which happened about 2 minutes before mine was to leave.  My train was 10 minutes late.  I wonder where I would have gone if I had been able to board the long train.  It isn´t a good idea to take a train that is on your track at the time your train is due.  That got me into trouble in Avignon when I got on a train to Marseille by mistake.  This trip was also very scenic to Unquera but further south than I had wanted.  There was a 2 * hotel across from the station that I passed up preferring to go for a cheaper hostal which I found shortly only to be told by the chatty woman there that it was full of workers during the off season and only available to tourists in the summer.  I passed a cybercafe en route but had to get a place to stay first so I backtracked until it looked like I was out of town going the other way and not looking like a spot for more hostals, which a man confirmed.  Reluctantly I went back to the 2* and predictably didn´t like the rate.  However the receptionist was kind enough to let me know that there indeed was another hostal about 1 km out of town.  It was large, clean but unimpressive at a main intersection and about 1/3 the price of the 2* so it suited me fine.  I got back to the cybercafe at the other side of town 20 minutes before closing.  There was also a Tourist Office next door but it was closed with no indication of what the hours were.  After a bit to eat I made it back to the hostal.

The next day I was up a 8:00 (getting better), walked to town to find the bus to Potes wasn´t until 11:45 so I decided to updat my blog.  However, on a map at the train station there was a trail appearing along the Deva River to Panes so I thought that I would cross the bridge and look for markings.  Sure  enough there was a trail on the far side so I skipped the blog.  I thought that it would be no problem just following the river but the trail started climbing immediately for a km but I imagined that the river was down too far to see and the markings were consistently good.  The scenery was very pastoral, with good views and farm animals along the way (even a couple of friendly people).  After a few kilometres a pretty big blue building dominated the horizon.  It was clearly a community of some kind that I wasn´t expecting.  It was Colombres a town to the west when I had wanted to go south.  I still figured that I could recover and pick up the trail to Panes and there were signs for a Tourist Office.  I thought that it might be in the big blue building but it was an Indian archives museum and the gardiner directed me another 500 m down the road to the Tourist Office that was closed.  However there were maps posted and I learned that my trail would take me to Lanes on the coast, not what I wanted.  I followed a lightly travelled road to Villa Nueva that was in the right direction.  Speaking to a man who was doing some masonry work on his porch, I learned conclusively that there was a trail to Panes BUT it was in bad shape and poorly marked so it would be best to stay on the road.  There was no shoulder and the traffic was neglible but it was one hill after another.  It was supposed to be 9 km  but I think that it was lowballed.  There were a lot of rock cuts, many scenic views, pretty wild flowers.  There was one pen containing three donkeys and a little foal and a couple of waterfalls along the way so it wasn´t boring.  Towards the Panes end mountains were the dominant feature everywhere.  Eventually the road crossed the Deva River and we were in Panes.  I was tired and hungry so took the second no star hotel, Trespalacio.  That doesn´t mean that it was palace-like.  In local history I think that there were three kings in the area and each had his own palace.  Actually the hotel was probably the poshest in town but has suffered over the years.  The Tourist Office in town was temporarily closed but there were decent maps posted indicating some interesting looking trails in the area.  There was also a bus to Potes at 12:05 but I had no idea where to catch it.  In my town tour I passed a library that was closed but saw a sign about a program “computers for everyone”.  I went in to see what it was about and indeed there were a dozen computers there not being used.  The guy in charged apologized but they were about to start a workshop for kids but I could come back at 6:00.  Great.  I also asked about tourist type brochures and he kindly gave me a couple from somewhere.  I examined the brochures and decided that I could skip Potes because the trails here looked interesting.  I decided that if the weather was goodI would take a taxi up to of the trailheads and do a 4 to 5  hour circular trail from there.

Slept in so missed bus to Potes.  The only destination close by on the train was Torrelavega so I checked on buses across the street.  It was the same so got onboard one by noon.  The ride is short and the bus station clean.  Sign indicated Tourist Office was 1 km away.  Needed help to find it but it had closed 15 minutes earlier until 5:00.  On way back to bus station looking for hostals, I found the FEVE train station.  Temperature was now over 30 not my kind of weather.  I bought at ticket to Cabezon de la Sal which was very pleasant.  The landscape is scenic reminding me of Costa Rica and the town is at a higher altitude so the temperature went down to 26.   It is a real neat quiet town but in my town tour all I found was a phone number for rooms.  There was a tourist office but it was closed until 4:30 and there was another train at 5:00.  I tried to call about a room but couldn´t figure out how to use the phone in the station so bought a ticket to Unquera .  A long train had been sitting on the siding next to the station so I figured that it was mine waiting for 5:07 to arrive.  Needing to find out which coach was mine I asked a security guy who referred me to two RR employees.  The woman spoke very good English and said I would board about where we were onto any coach.  She also made the suggestion that I wait for the next ten minutes in the shade by the station.  Good idea. When the time was up I tried unsuccessfully to open the coach door, then another and another.  At this point the security guy came running to say that this wasn´t my train.  The long train left 2 minutes before my was supposed to leave and mine didn´t show for another 10 minutes.  I guess you shouldn´t hop on a train just because it is on the right track and leaving at approximately the right time.  (That was how I got on the wrong train in Avignon and went to Marseille by mistake.)  It was another scenic trip but south of where I wanted to go.  I passed on the three star hotel across the street and did my town tour. Shortly I found a one star hostal run by a chatty lady who had her place full of workers until the summer when she caters to tourists.  I passed a cybercafe along the way.  I walked past the three star again until it looked like the town was ending.  A man confirmed that there where only two hotel/hostals in town so I went back to the hotel to get the bad news.  I balked at the price but she did tell me that there was another establishment about a km out of town.  It was a hostal at a major highway intersection.  It was large cheap and unimpressive but that was it.  Before going back to the cybercafe I patched a blister on my foot that was getting tender.  The second use of the first aid kit.  The cafe was closing in 20 minutes by the time I got there so I had no time to add anything to the blog.  I enjoyed my first bocadilla on my way back in a very clean cafeteria.  By this time it was pretty well dark so I packed in early hoping to get an earlier start in the morning.  It is difficult to start early in Spain when no one will feed you anything substantial  before 9:00.

The flight on FlyGlobeSpan was 40 minutes late leaving in a 457 and was full. The only hitch was that I had left my cap at home but Leda and Cathy had time to go back home and retrieve it with 10 minutes to spare before I had to go through security. There was a surprise once we were on board; instead of going non-stop to Stansted we were going by way of Liverpool. Others were surprised too but it was no problem for me. It was also strange to see that the welcoming flight attendant was outfitted in an IcelandAir uniform but again no concern. I thought that she must have been subject to a compulsory retirement order and just kept her uniform. Next the safety instructions pamphlet was from IcelandAir too. All of the attendants’ uniforms were similar and all spoke English with a noticable accent that wasn’t British or Scottish. When the welcoming attendant got on the speaker it was very clear that she was in charge. She introduced that Captain and First Officer (a woman) and then herself as the “supervisor of the cabin crew”. At this point I suspected a German background that was pretty well confirmed in my mind when the instructions were given just prior to take-off; “The cabin crew will now take their seats”. They were all efficient and courteous, but I heard the man behind us ask if any of the crew were British. Apparently two in the cockpit were from England.  In the “supervisors” welcome aboard address she started “On behalf of …aah … GlobeSpan”. Nobody laughed out loud but most got a chuckle to think that she couldn´t remember her employer´s name. Before the flight was over there was no more charade, it was IcelandAir that we were flying.

The flight was uneventful until we landed in Liverpool but I didn´t catch much sleep. The meals that were served to those who had paid for them smelled pretty good. There was a snack menu for others and the prices weren’t outlandish. I bought a lemonade to go with my sandwiches and couldn’t believe the size. It was Schweppes but tasted like dishwater so I was glad there was only 1/3 of a cup to put away.

The event in Liverpool was that we were met by the Fire Department. The supervisor had warned us and it was just a welcoming event; spraying the plane with water. However, it reminded me of the only other time my flight was met by the Fire Department when one of the wheels took fire on landing in Toronto. I was glad it wasn´t a repeat.

We were late again landing in Liverpool due to strong headwinds so arrival in Stansted was more than an hour behind schedule. I had plenty of time to kill as it was. UK immigration and Customs was a breeze so I started wandering around to find RyanAir and perhaps an internet site. The first was easy; more than half of the 50 or so counters are RyanAir. I did find a couple of internet sites but at 2 pounds for 10 minutes, I passed them by. It would take me 10 minutes to figure out how they worked. Later I saw some more typical sites on desks but they were all occupied, so obviously these are the ones to use. Despite the number of counters I didn´t see any that displayed my flight, even though there were two indicating that mentioned Santander. Eventually I asked an agent there about my flight and all he asked was when it departed. I was much too early and had to wait 1 1/2 hours before the electronic board would specify which of their counters would be handling my flight. After a forgettable meal at O’Neill´s Pub the board displayed the counter number and I was the third passenger to check in. I was glad not to have to lug around my backpack any longer. They did put me through oversize luggage because of something to do with the walking stick, but that was no problem. After security I had a long walk looking for gate 46. The problem here was that the people at this gate were going to Stockholm. The RyanAir service desk let me know that I was just too early, again; wait an hour and check. I did and, while the Stockholm group had left, there was nothing to indicate that it was the gate for my flight. However, I did recognize the young lady who checked in just ahead of me who assured me that this was the right gate despite the lack of any other potential passengers. There was about an hour to departure now and gradually people gathered in the area. I managed to catch a little more sleep interrupted by announcements. About 15 minutes before departure our flight was called. RyanAir doesn´t assign seats unless you pay a premium for that extra service. Those people get a yellow (I think) boarding pass and are boarded first while the Bohemians line up to take whatever is left. There may have been 10 in the first category on our flight, so most are prepared to take what they can get. It wásn´t a big deal on our flight because it was only 3/4 full.

On board was a large contingent of school kids returning from some event in England. They were noisey of course but then we hit some very choppy weather shortly after takeoff and a lot started screaming. Fortunately it didn´t last too long and the remainder was quiet. Possibly as compensation for the rough, the crew handed out muffins. On my previous rough ride through Hurricane David it was an open bar as compensation. I´ll go with the muffins any time; I don´t want to go through another hurricane.

I was the only passenger that had to go through immigration as a non-EU resident. Even then the luggage had not arrived. Customs was nothing at all and I went directly to the Information counter to find out how to get to my hotel. It is very close to the airport but a taxi is necessary I was told. I had instructions on how to drive there but was in no shape to dispute the information. My taxi driver spoke very good English and we had a most interesting conversation. He agreed that the hotel is very close to the airport but it would be necessary to walk along very busy highways and is hard to find unless you know exactly how to get there. Afterwards I was in total agreement.

The outside of Hotel Hiblanc is not impressive but inside it is spacious and clean. My room suits me well and this computer is available 24 per day. There was one problem with the lights. There weren´t any. The desk soon resolved that. The key is a card which I am used to but also you insert the card in a receptacle just inside the door to turn on the electricity to the room. The lights are also the economical low wattage variety.

Although I was extremely tired I tested my silk sleeping sack (the “cocoon”), even though it is mainly for locations that don´t provide bedding. It worked well but it isn´t that handy when you have that “old man´s disease”. Despite a couple of interruptions I slept like a top.