Graffiti has been ubiquitous since I left Roncesvalles, on walls, underpasses, in tunnels, on signposts, guard rails, telephone poles, in cities and in the country, anywhere there's a surface. There have been scrawled drawings, political statements, new age loftinesses, messages from one pilgrim to another about where they'll meet, but above all there have been encouragements. "You can do it", "Overcome your pain", "Effort leads to wisdom", "Open your heart", "Don't ever stop", the ever present "Buen Camino", and one particularly memorable one from a few weeks ago, "There are two mistakes you can make on the Camino: Not finishing it and never starting it". So I was stopped in my tracks late this morning when, during a moment of particular self-doubt while going straight uphill, I saw written in very small letters on a sign, "Just Give Up". I started cracking up and realized if someone saw me at that moment, standing alone on a mountain path laughing a little hysterically, soaked through with sweat, with the flaps of my sun hat waving, they would have thought I was nuts.

And maybe I am just a little nuts at the moment. I was thinking about my post the other day about being in a bliss state and I realize I got it wrong. I think it would be more accurate to say I'm in an altered state. Endorphin generated bliss is part of it, but it's more complicated, with positives and negatives. I travel with happiness, self-doubt, wonderment, perseverance, questioning, picture composing, and endless musings.

It's almost like I'm in the middle of a dream and only when it's over and I'm home will I wake up and be able to make any sense of it. Many days I can't remember what town I stayed in last night, or the night before, and certainly not the night before that. In fact it's starting to seem like one big psychedelic blur, with snippets of impressions of places and landscapes and cities and people I've met along the way, and hostels and albergues and hotels in which I've stayed. I'm glad I'm at least keeping this journal so when it's all over I might be able to piece it back together again.

I miscalculated the walk slightly today and it was a little longer than I thought, 12 miles altogether, with about a 3000 foot climb. It was challenging, but I came through ok. I left early, on the path at 6:30 AM, which was great. The air was cool and welcoming and the first few miles, with just a gradual uphill slope on local little-travelled roads, floated by. I stopped for breakfast in a totally unCamino truck stop where the road crossed a highway for a greasy plate of fried eggs, bacon, potatoes and café con leche and it hit the spot. Then a few more miles of easy slope on a road before the 4.5 mile very steep vertical, this on dirt and gravel paths. But I paced myself, stopped at all three bars along the way for cold water, was repeatedly thrilled by the views, and finally arrived in O'Cebreiro, a small, beautiful mountain town, situated at about 5000 feet above sea level, that judging by its upkeep seems quite well off. Perhaps too well off in fact. The bar where I checked in was so busy that I couldn't get anyone's attention, and when I finally did they were unfriendly, almost rude. Not just to me, it seems like it's the character of the place.

I'm a little worse off for wear today, my muscles a little more stiff and sore than they've been. But that's to be expected after today's walk. I've got the whole afternoon and evening to stretch out and relax before I get up and do it all over again. Oh, and I reached a major milestone today: less than a hundred miles to go.