Welcome to the hardest day of your life.

Only two episodes are documented in full here. Day One is the first.NOTHING could have prepared me for this. Arriving in St Jean Pied-de-port after sharing a taxi with three crazy Germans, I was all ready to book myself into a hostel, grab a bit of tapas and a few cheeky beers.

But no. Ze Germans vonted to valk.

Being a solo traveller in a strange town, I felt I had no choice but to walk with these crazy's. And this was 6-P-M PEOPLE! Who in their right mind would commence a Pyrenees journey AT 6-P-M?!

I did. Of course. Ever the over-achiever.
The result was this:



This picture says "Why the f##k am I here in this f##king country doing this mother f##king walk with these friggin shetland ponies who have NO IDEA of the amount of pain I'm in plus I think I'm going to die from altitude sickness, lactic acid and LOSING THE WILL TO LIVE, why the F##K didn't anyone STOP ME?

I was sure I was going to die. In fact, I WANTED to die so i didn't have to think about the fact that I was sure I was going to die. It was 9pm, I was in France, I was on a mountain, I knew no one was behind me and Ze Germans were far in front of me. I only had one choice - to keep walking.

So it takes me three hours to walk 7km.
Of course, when I get to the hostel,the bastards are full. Luckily enough, the hostel owner decides to drive me BACK DOWN THE MOUNTAIN (I am not kidding here) in a 1977 Daihatsu Charade whilst eating, texting and constantly looking over to talk (in French).

Do you blame me for crying myself to sleep that night?!
Fortunately, in the morning I got a lift back up the mountain to where I had left off and was of course confronted with the most incredible view. Ok, whatever, it was worth it.





After that little ordeal, everything seemed achievable. And that's the point. EVERY Pilgrim is sure they are never going to make it through day one. And we all do.