Atapuerca to Burgos

It was 2 degrees and misty when I started walking at 8.30 on tuesday morning. There is a gradual climb that eventually gets steeper heading up and over this small rock. The path goes from gravel to white stones stuck at all angles in the mud with no respite off a flat surface. The mist wrapped itself around life itself, everything was shrouded in it even the few walkers I saw drifting in and out of the whiteness. Slowly the sun started to burn through, clearing beams of light into the mist. I carried on my feet and right ankle hurting. For the first time in my walking life i had to step off the trail, finding a quiet spot I tried to squat as much as my knees would allow. I laughed as I realised it was never going to be low enough to be private.Then to add to the indignity nature gave it its all my ass bellowed like an angry bull. At the point i was laughing hysterically and hoping that no one had seen or witnessed the indignity of it all. Moving on after clearing the bushes I twisted my left ankle sent sprawling my gear everywhere. I lay where i was considering the idea of a quick nap, but it was still to cold. Getting up I moved on, my feet and ankles not happy, but in all this my knees have been amazing. I eventually made it down to Burgos and rememered the route to the river walk into Burgos. It took two hours, stopping every 50 or 150 feet to sit and rest my feet and ankles. I realised as I sat in my pain that I have not been this happy in a long time.