A good day for hearing from far-flung friends. David writes from the north of Spain:

I´m in Santo Domingo de la Calzada tonight. It´s a hilltop town in Navarra with a beautiful medieval cathedral. So far we have walked 214 kilometers since we began in France eight days ago. It may not seem like much to you, but I have never walked so far in my life. I´m so under the discipline of this life that it´s hard to think of anything other than what I have to do next to continue.

I love what I´m doing, and love the countryside through which we´re walking, but I have to concentrate hard on the next step, the next kilometer, the next sip of water.

Remember mud? I hadn´t thought about it for years, and now I think about it every day. Mud is a part of my life on the walk to Santiago de Compostela. It´s a part of my clothes. It´s everywhere I go on the steep hilly trails of Navarra. Mud is powerful, too. One slip in the mud and I could twist an ankle.

A German woman has brought her pet ferret on pilgrimage with her. The other day I watched her take it for a walk around the main square of Los Arcos. Her progress around the square was slow; the ferret seemed to creep rather than walk. I couldn´t keep my eyes off it.

Two men on horseback passed us the other day, superb riders sitting high on superb horses, while we toiled in the mud. I saw why a man on horseback has always been such a powerful image, especially to those who have to go on foot.