Photos

Clicking on the title will take you to a Picasa site where I've popped some of the better images from the big camera (a Nikon D60 for those interested in those sort of facts, and if you are interested in those sort of facts you'll probably also want to know I was using the 18-55mm VR kit lens, and any editing done was carried out in iPhoto).

Witty and not so witty captions to come as and when I have a chance to dedicate a few moments to the task, and there are also probably more photos that need to get uploaded, so keep checking back.

Sunset - Conil

For anyone who wants to use any of the photos for personal use, please feel absolutely free, but if you do, and you haven't donated yet, please consider doing so!

www.justgiving.com/walkacrossspain.

Kite-Flying Kilted Pilgrim

If anyone happens to want to use any image for commercial use, please get in touch to discuss, the donation rates will be very reasonable. (If however you don't get in touch, and I find out, you will be hearing from my lawyers, who, unlike me, are not a tolerant and forgiving bunch.)

Kilt - Before and After

The Kilt at the start of the trip...

The Kilt at the end of the trip...

Annoyingly due to poor photography from me on the "before" photo it makes it look like the colours in the kilt actually managed to get more intense after 38 days under the Spanish sun. I don't think this is the case.

It is clearly a bit more crumpled now, and has the odd stain or two, but it has held up amazingly well. Interestingly you can also see on the after picture, in addition to the absence of the kilt pin, the exit wounds from its loss on Tarifa beach, on the left of the kilt as we look it. (A couple of these tears were also caused by me taking my rucksack off and managing to place it squarely on the pin as I lowered it to the ground.)

Weight

Having arrived back in normal life many people have been commenting on how thin I appear, and it is true there is a lot of rib showing. I've gone down a notch on my belt, although I think I should really be two down, but I've reached the end of the notches. Indeed, by the end of the walk I could actually take the kilt off without undoing it. I'd asked a few people how much they thought I'd lost and most said around a full stone, and I would probably have agreed.

Today I finally had the opportunity to weigh myself and in actual fact it's only half a stone. I was just over 11 and a half stone when I left, and I'm now at just over 11. I can only guess that what's happened is I've lost most of the excess fat I had stored up before I left and some of this was replaced by muscle (I'd wager primarily in the leg regions...), and as muscle is considerably more dense than fat a small amount of extra muscle compensates in weight for quite a lot of fat loss.

No doubt in a couple of weeks time I'll be back to my usual 12-hours-a-day-in-the-office condition...

Casualties

Two items that had supported me during the entire journey were sadly lost in Tarifa.

The first, my trusty kilt pin. During the entire journey it had done a marvellous job of keeping the kilt in place, and my modesty intact, no matter how strong the wind. Alas, the winds of Tarifa are different beasts. In the march up the beach to the end of the journey I was ploughing head first into what seemed like a full on gale (pleasantly loaded with sand...), and around the time I arrived level with the first houses of the town I stopped for a breather and, glancing down, I realised the kilt pin was no longer there. It appears it had been blown clean off by the force of the wind. It's little wonder the place is such a mecca for windsurfers.

Clearly the lack of kilt pin made the rest of my day in windy Tarifa a little more interesting for some of the passers-by than it might have been otherwise.

The second casualty was the toe nail on the big toe on my left foot. You may remember there was a previous post showing said nail a very unhealthy colour, and being compared to its equivalent on the right foot, along with a question as to which one might fall off first. Well, those who guessed left, guessed right.

Rather amazingly, despite the damage it had sustained (in the first week!) it managed to stay put for the entire journey, but on Sunday, just as I dived into the ocean for a pre-departure swim, it decided it had completed its task, and took leave of me. There are photos, but in the interests of everyone I think it's best they stay firmly off the blog.

Speed

Speed

We're driving up to Seville, where Ross, his girlfriend Lesley and Sarah have their flights home to London.

I just can't get over how quickly you travel in a car. On the highways in Spain each 100 metres is marked off with a single digit from 1 to 9 on the reflective poles by the side of the road, whilst the kilometres have their own sign with the kilometre number on it.

While walking down the highways these signs were pretty important, as I counted my way to the next important point, be it rest stop, garage, or town. After so many kilometres down the roads I had the timing fairly well controlled. Each kilometre was just under 10 minutes, so each 100 metres was just under a minute.

We're cruising along at a fairly decent pace (don't worry Mrs Campbell, Ross is driving very responsibly!), and i'm watching these signs flashing by. A kilometre sign when walking was a major event, in the car you see two a minute. Quite a difference. It's actually almost shocking. Although no doubt even by the time we reach Seville I'll be completely used to this pace again. 

Vera, Ross and a whale

Vera, Ross and a whale

Tarifa

Tarifa

Getting used to not having to walk is going to be difficult. One benefit is I can take other forms of transport though...

Celebration lunch

Celebration lunch

Tarifa

So it's done.

I'm here at the end of Spain, at the end of Europe and at the end of my voyage.

It's been simply incredible. Of course none of it would have been possible without the help of so many people...

Thanks to all my friends who supported and encouraged me wholeheartedly from the time I first voiced what might have been just another crazy idea of mine. Special mention for Ross, who came out to walk during the first section, and also to Annie, who sorted out the UK public relations and had the story placed in many publications.

Thanks to everyone who's donated, giving their hard earned pounds or Euros to help fight this cruel disease.

Thank you to everyone I met on the route who with their kind acts or words kept my spirits up and gave me the strength to keep going. Many are on the blog, but many more aren't, due to lack of time on my part, although they more than deserve their post.

Finally, thanks to my family; father and sister Jane who were with me by messages and calls from Scotland, and sister Sarah who came out to support and walk on the last week.

And thanks to my mother, for everything.

I'm now just 9km from Tarifa, so barring any bizarre unforeseen disasters I should make it there tomorrow, about 1 in the afternoon.

If you're in the area come and find us, I think my mum would have wanted us to celebrate with a gin and tonic, so we'll likely be in a bar, next to the beach, raising toasts in her honour. 

It's been quite a journey. More tomorrow.

As yet I've not had time to tell the story of our dinner on Monday night. The reason for this is because I wanted to dedicate a little more time to writing the piece; when you read what happened I think you'll understand why.

We were plodding south on the pothole pitted road to Jerez, lush vinyards on our right hand side, bare fields of grey earth, like a lunar landscape on our left, where the sunflowers had been harvested.

A cyclist came up from behind us and, modifying his pace to our walking speed, inquired as to our walk. After chatting for a while in general we explained the precise nature of the project, and stopped to give him one of the business cards l've been handing out with the tartan bull logo and "Fighting Amyloidosis" wording in English and Spanish. Our new companion asked directly if we knew someone who'd had amyloidosis. He was the first person I've met in the entire route not to ask what amyloidosis was.

It turns out that our companion, Jose Ignacio Sánchez García, is a doctor, a General Practitioner, and has had patients with the disease, so knows it well. We discussed the disease and the associations that might be able to help with regards to getting the message out and fund raising.

We were still a couple of kilometres from Jerez, and it was growing dark. Jose explained that his house was right next to where we would enter the city, but that as the centre was another 3km on from there he would be happy to get home, drop his bike off and drive us up to save us the walk. I obviously couldn't but for Sarah who was beginning to feel the pain, after a tough day, it was the perfect offer.

Just as we reached the city limits however José stopped to call home and when he caught up with us asked if we'd like to come for dinner at his house and meet his family.

So instead of a tiring trudge through an unknown city to the centre, to then have to find a hotel for the night, we were soon relaxing in the pleasant company of Jose's family, made up of Milagros Alonso, his wife and their children Ignacio and Lucía. 

After extremely welcome showers we settled down to the finest (and biggest!) dinner I've had all trip. The morcilla (black pudding) from Salamanca, where Jose originally comes from, was exceptional.

The family are great company, and the conversation flowed as we tucked into the array of fine foods laid out before us. Mostly Spanish, as Sarah speaks a little as well, but with snippets of English here and there, as both Ignacio and Lucía speak good English. In fact the family had recently been in London, for site seeing and to test their English -they both passed with flying colours apparently, guiding their parents around.
One of the things noticeable about casa Sánchez Alonso are the excellent paintings. Jose asked me if I recognised the scene in one in particular, it was in fact of a Roman bridge I passed two weeks ago, between Caceres and Merida, and was done by none other than Jose himself. He is clearly a talented individual as well as a genial host.

Dinner done it was already late and time to say our goodbyes (Lucia, who had school the next day had disappeared a little before) but not content with having attended to us like kings, Jose then drove Sarah up to the centre and organised a hotel for us.

The walk has been made up of many acts of kindness towards me by complete strangers, but I think there is something incredibly special about being invited into someone's home. Mil gracias to Jose and his family.

I don't know what it is with me and Roman ruins but after the debacles at Alcaparra and Merida where I comprehensively failed to see almost anything, the same has happened in Bolonia.

The, apparently highly interesting, ruins lie to the north of the town, handy I thought as I'll have to pass them on my way in. Alas the track to the ruins from that side was firmly locked and bolted necessitating a 3 km detour round the ruins on the road.

I will of course have the option of then going into the ruins from the town side, but to be honest I can't see extra walking happening, especially given how close we are to lunch.  

I'll just have to make sure my next long walk passes lots of Roman sites to make up for this.

PS I've arrived on the town side, the photo is as much as you or I will see of these ruins today.

Yesterday I met Julie, from South Africa, who was running the information booth in El Palmar. Unfortunately the photo I had of her in her extremely pink new uniform was deleted in the great data card failure, so you won't be able to appreciate quite how pink it was.

She gave me lots of useful advice on the route along the coast i.e. where to avoid falling off cliffs etc. (which, as i'm writing this, must have all been good.)

She was great, and I don't think it was just because there was an inspection yesterday. I hope it went well!

This part of the coast is made up of small bays, separated by little peaks. It is spectacularly beautiful, although there is a lot of searching for the right paths to keep going round. That tower you can see at the end of the next bay is Torre del Cabo de Gracia. Appropriately located on Cabo de Gracia, I should be there in 20 minutes.

Taxi!

Sarah's off to the hotel Copacabana where we're booked in tonight. I'm heading off down the coastal paths, I wonder who'll be relaxing in the hotel bar first?

Paula was looking after the Hotel Casa Grande in Zahara when sister Sarah arrived earlier on today. I was lucky enough that she was still on when I got here about four hours later. Not only did she check me in, she sorted out information on hotels for tomorrow AND produced cold beer. Gracias Paula!

Apologies for the disjointed, or simply missing, blog posts today. It started to rain just as I set out and hasn't stopped since. Not only is this disappointing from a walking point of view, my stroll down the beach being somewhat less fun than I'd imagined it would be, but it makes writing difficult as I can't get the blackberry out.

Even though I've been careful to not get it wet the gremlins have unfortunately returned. This time however they've gone for my data card, which has failed. I've seemingly lost all the photos on it. Of course many are already saved to the blog but I've lost all the ones that weren't including some of people I met today. How frustrating. (fingers crossed I should still have the all the ones taken on the "real" camera, so it isn't a disaster by any means, but annoying none the less.)

It looks like it might be clearing up, so I'll head off out of the petrol station in Barbate where i'm writing this, down the coast to Zahara de los Atunes.

I think I can see Tarifa from up here on the cliffs above Barbate.

End of season

It's a grey day, day spots of rain are spattering out of low clouds. I'm walking along a deserted beach. Beach resorts out of season on a day like today have a peculiar melancholy feel to them, it's as if all the colour had drained away.