"Promise little, deliver less." That's the Basque marketing slogan.

An alternative would be, "Just say Non," which we heard on numerous occasions last night when asking for food and drink.

As a result we find ourselves in the unusual position of waking up early without hangovers (only 5 beers and bed by midnight!).

Pannier management is much more than just knowing what to put where, it's about knowing how to look after your kit.

It's about remembering to ring out your clothes when you've washed them so that they are dry by the following morning.

You can probably guess where this is going and right now Martin is busy fixing his smalls to his panniers to dry them out in the sun.

Valcarlos, Spain 10.30. First café con leche of the day just over the Spanish border.

There was no sign to reward us for our efforts but the tarmac suddenly deteriorated and a Repsol garage appeared - Bienvenido a Espana.

Today I am sporting a bandana tied on top which apparently makes me look like Monty Panesar so that we now make a frightening combination on the road especially as the Goat has taken to wearing a pair of turquoise cycling socks which don't match anything in the known universe never mind the other kit he is sporting.

Roncesvalles 1059m, 1.30pm. The major climb of the day is over and as we recuperate on top of the world the pain caused by having to cope with a brand new saddle on a major tour has prompted me to start thinking up a new jingle for Ryanair to play on landing.

Something along the following lines will probably suffice.

"Congratulations! Yet another Ryanair flight has landed on time.

Unfortunately, due to the need to achieve a 20 minute turnaround for our aircraft some of your luggage may have been damaged.

If you have checked in a pedal cycle this will almost certainly be the case."

I will then be writing to Ryanair boss, Michael O'Leary suggesting that he sets up a cycling concession at every airport so that he can make a killing flogging saddles and other bike kit to his hapless passengers.

And here's a new advert for Michael along the lines of the MasterCard one.

"Checking your bike onto a Ryanair flight - €30.

Buying a new saddle - €11.

Having sore arse for 7 hours a day because you're not used to the new saddle - priceless!"

Everywhere is overun with pilgrims on the camino trail and as a result everything is double the price that it should be.

We have to avoid the pilgrims at all costs and fortunately you can always spot them as they have walking sticks and cargo pants.

A serious pilgrim will have 2 walking sticks whereas a less experienced specimen carries just one.

If they don't have any at all they are not proper pilgrims.

Pamplona, 6.30pm. We had lunch at a bar in Espinal where I asked for a sandwich with no fish or meat and got egg and tuna and Martin asked for ham and tomato and got just ham.

I dropped some of the egg on the floor and, after a construction worker trod in it, I scraped it up and put it on the table.

The Goat thought that this was a kind gesture on my part and promptly ate it complaining it was a bit gritty.

A bar somewhere in Pamplona. At last we have had some real food. In a little bar off the Plaza I inadvertently ordered a year's supply of chilli peppers with a bit of Spanish omlette. But at least the Goat has finally mastered the Spanish language - he keeps going up to the barman saying, "Dos mas por favor."

Xani Bar, Pamplona. 12.20am.

We are in the 3.30 parallel world of Pamplona where the bars don't shut till, surprisingly, 3.30. The Goat has been trying to order a cigar all evening and we have just discovered that due to a pronounciation error I have been asking everyone for marijuana.

We have almost been run out of town on several occasions and now we know why!