Day 3: Elizondo to the Medical Centre!

After 22 hours in my hotel room, I was ready for the world again.

Yesterday had been spent planning the trip ahead: where to camp, where to buy supplies and how far to walk each day. The question now was whether that plan was about to fall apart on medical grounds.

I woke at 5.30am. It was still raining, so I reset the alarm for 6am. By 7am I was packed and looking out of the window. It was only drizzling, but today was forecast to be wet.
I put on my waterproof jacket and headed outside.

There was over 2,000m of ascent today, and it began immediately with a steep climb. After about ten minutes I packed the waterproof away as I was getting wetter from sweat than the drizzle.

I followed another hiker up a section of path that had become overgrown. She was ahead, brushing all the raindrops from the vegetation onto herself. Before I suffered the same fate I checked the map and decided to walk up the road instead. She turned around and followed me.

Being in the cloud for most of the day meant views were limited. Visibility dropped to around 100m at times, so I checked the map on my phone regularly to keep on route.

Progress was good. I barely stopped and settled into a steady rhythm, passing a lone trekker and later a group of three. My feet, however, were beginning to hurt. I'd already taped all my toes, but this felt different. Trail running normally keeps them well conditioned, but they had been permanently wet and were starting to complain.

It was 2pm before I took my first proper break, seven hours after setting off. I stopped at a spring marked on the map, refilled my water bottles and made lunch: salami sandwiches and Oreos, the lunch of trekkers. The salami had already been out of the fridge for more than 24 hours. I'll let you know tomorrow whether it survives 48 hours unrefrigerated... and whether I do.

Lunch gave me a boost, but every step made my feet hurt more. There wasn't much I could do in the middle of nowhere, so I ignored it and carried on.

As I descended towards my original wild camping spot it was still too early to stop. There were mountain bikers and a 4x4 using the area, so I decided to continue another 4km to a commercial campsite.

The welcome at the campsite was excellent. As soon as I reached my pitch I took off my shoes and socks to inspect the damage. My feet were wet, wrinkled, dirty and, inevitably, a bit smelly. All perfectly normal. What wasn't normal was what looked like a deep 1cm split in the sole of my foot.

I sent a photo to my wife for a second opinion. She agreed it didn't look good.
With one shoe on and one off, I hobbled to reception and explained that I needed medical attention. It was 5.45pm, so I wasn't expecting miracles and assumed I'd probably need a bus somewhere tomorrow.

Instead, after a short phone call, the local medical centre was opened specially for me and the campsite manager drove me there.

The doctor took my details, my UK Global Health Insurance Card and a signature. There was no charge.

He examined my feet. Poor bloke. I hadn't washed them and the shoes smelt like something that should probably have been declared at customs. This village sits on the Camino de Santiago, though, so I imagine feet are a regular feature of his working day.

Another member of staff, I think an ambulance technician, was more interested in the blood on my ankle. "That's just a blister," I said. "Perfectly normal." He cleaned it anyway and applied a dressing.

Thankfully the split wasn't as bad as I'd feared. By the time I arrived my feet had dried out and what looked like a deep crack was actually a large wrinkle caused by being wet for so long. The doctor did warn that I wouldn't make it to the other end of the Pyrenees if I carried on like this. Apparently my feet aren't used to prolonged heat. Funny that, living in Scotland.

He also inspected my shoes. I winced when he picked them up. I don't like touching them myself. Given half a chance they could probably walk back to Scotland on their own.

Once I'd been patched up, the campsite manager collected me and drove me back. I certainly wasn't walking it. By then I could barely hobble from reception to my tent.

So tomorrow? Who knows. I had planned a 40km day, but first there's a pharmacy visit and then probably something a bit more sensible. The forecast is cooler and dry, which should help. For now at least, the trip continues.