Strains, Pintxos and East Yorkshire.

For the last few days of cycling I've been increasingly aware of a strain running from my lower back down my left hamstring. I've been hoping that by stretching my hamstrings the pain would go away, but it doesn't seem to be, and I've been seizing up a bit when I sit down. The good news is that when I stay on the move and my back and muscles loosen up I seem to be okay.

I've had a longer than expected break in Darungo with cousins Helen (who lives here with husband Antonio and children, Asier, Ana and Emma) and Cath (visiting from England). It eaten more than I should, of excellent food from pintxos (Basque tapas) to family meals.

There was something wired about being surrounded by towering mountains and going to see an exhibition of paintings of East Yorkshire called A Bigger Picture! These were, of course, the David Hockney multi canvas images which were in London and are now in the Guggenheim in Bilbao. There is something of Van Gogh in these paintings with their bold colours and heavy outlines.

Helen has taken us to see fantastic coastal and mountain scenery, and the historic tree at Guernica. Somehow, also finding time to go to work and cook the most fantastic meals. On Monday Cath and I took ourselves off to San Sebastian and had a 3 hr lunch at a restaurant called La Fabrica.

I feel slightly guilty leaving the camino so long, particularly as I know that it getting late in the year to be tackling the walk. I wonder if I will be a lone walker: plenty of those walkers that I met were aiming to reach St Jean by the end of September and begin again another year. But Cath being here, and the convoluted journey to get myself back to St Jean have made it seem like an opportunity to take time out that shouldn't be missed. This afternoon Cath and I will get trains and buses to Hendaye where we'll stay at the Ibis (we'll also go to Hondarribia for dinner). And tomorrow morning I will get trains back to St Jean and Cath to Paris and home. I'm conscious that the train journey will take 2 hrs and then I have an 8 hr walk up to Roncevalles. I must arrive in time to get a space in the Refugio which is popular with all sorts of ramblers and tourists, and to which there doesn't seem to be any alternative. I have read one pilgrim's account of this first day's walk by Kevin Codd and for him it was one prolonged nightmare of gasping, self-doubting, exhaustion. Having said all that, it'll be right to be back on the road.

I've transferred things from my bike panniers (with which I felt completely organized) to a new backpack sent out from England by Helen, the parish secretary. I've packed up my cycling gear, and have walking boots and socks at the ready. I have bought myself walking poles on the advice of almost everybody who has trekked anywhere and all camino walkers that I have seen. And Helen, warning of cold mornings has bought me (heaping kindness upon kindness) a lightweight walking cap. I have my walking provisions which include: 2 bars of dark chocolate; 3 packs of Tuc biscuits (they were on offer and they weigh peanuts); half a wedge of Brie; a peach; some sun-dried tomato paste; some quince jelly (courtesy of Helen); and three packs of chorizo, jambon and cecina, (again, Helen). Of course all this can be supplemented by whatever I have the brass-neck to pack away from the Ibis breakfast bar.