Day 8: I'm going to toot my own horn...just climbed a 6km hill to the deserted town of Foncebadon. I didn't stop once as this thing winded and switch backed into the fog! I rolled in with no feeling in either hand and pins and needles on both feet from the ankles down. I think I was white knuckling (spelling?) it all the way up. Passed a couple French guys and I have no idea where Jemny Grace is. I've parked myself inside a vacant porch where there's nobody inside (it's dark) but I hear what slings like French music coming from somewhere...creepy!