I do not know what day it is today. I do not know what year it is either, come to think of it. At this point, I am lucky to remember my own name and which foot goes in which shoe.

Europe is in the middle of a heat wave hotter than the surface of Mercury. Spain has been clocking in at 110 degrees, but to keep it fun and spicy, yesterday and today were each a cozy 97. My personal thermometer only goes up to “sweating through your socks,” and we passed that somewhere around 8 a.m.

Yesterday was a rest day. We called it “rest,” but really it was an advanced exercise in horizontal living. We explored Lugo in a haze of ice cream, shared a lunch that turned into an accidental multi-hour hydration fest, and took naps so profound they probably qualified as spiritual awakenings.

Then came today. L had the bright idea to start walking in the dark to escape the heat. At first, she proposed midnight. Midnight! The hour reserved for vampires, and raccoons. Through vigorous negotiation (bribery involving croissants), we compromised on 4 a.m.

The early start was genius. We floated along the moonlit path, feeling like a band of confused ghosts. Today’s stage was a robust 27 km, full of asphalt radiating heat like a griddle at a pancake festival. To make it extra memorable, four of us missed our albergue and kept going. Like lemmings in neon vests, we went a full kilometer too far and then had to trudge back uphill. Total for the day: 30 km. My feet are so angry they have started composing a manifesto.

Today is bittersweet. T1 and N had to peel off to catch flights back to the States. L, fueled by caffeine and apparently the spirit of some ancient marathon deity, decided not to walk back with us. She kept on to Melide, another 20km away and who knows, she might have kept going to Portugal for dessert or a music festival.

As I looked through photos from the past days, I stumbled on one of R and H. In the picture, R is deep in conversation, hands moving like he is orchestrating an opera. H, meanwhile, is either contemplating life’s deepest mysteries or quietly slipping into a heat-induced coma. Hard to tell. Either way the audio stimulation tripped his breakers.

Even with the sore feet, missed turns, and tearful goodbyes, I cannot help but feel grateful. This Camino keeps throwing curveballs, but it also hands out unexpected laughter, unforgettable bonds, and little snapshots of pure joy. We might be a few friends lighter tonight, but the spirit of our wild, wandering little tribe is very much alive — heat waves, pre-dawn starts, and all.