Last night was wrapped in the deep silence of the countryside, with only the sound of rain. I woke to a brighter morning and, after breakfast, was on the road by 8.15am.

I had agreed to walk with Annie, whom I had met on the road on Tuesday. She had lodged at the same place, and we set off with a spring in our step. Or in my case a limp. My feet were still fairly uncomfortable, to put it no stronger than that.

The day was much less humid, with only a few spits and spots of rain, and a good bit warmer – so it felt like good walking weather. We walked and talked – if you find someone sympa, as the French say, then the conversation flows. And then sometimes we were comfortably silent. The path was not miserably straight, so we had the pleasure of discoveries round corners.

We made steady progress, but my feet were getting worse and worse, and my plan to lunch in Roquefort and then walk on for eight kilometres to a gite in the woods was clearly wildly optimistic. As always, the Camino is insistent that you do  what you can, and not what you think you can. So eleven miles to Roquefort was enough for both of us. We sat at a bar for a bit and then found the excellent hosted pilgrim refuge. On the way we visited the magnificent church of the Assumption, build like a fortress.

A pharmacy sold me some cushioning for the balls of my feet, and by three o’clock we were having a rest in the refuge.

Clearly I am going to have to review my programme. I think I need a day or two off my feet if I am going to make progress. So tomorrow, I am going to get a lift to Mont de Marsan, and stay there for two days, to give my feet some recovery time. It will require some rejigging of what I can manage after that, but I will deal with that a day at a time.