So we set off with the sun coming up, all beautiful and everything.
I read up about the challenges of the Via De La Plata: bulls, dogs and snakes. (For that reason, I grabbed the black panniers and gave Mike the red ones) Today, I realised, the modern version of Bull Fighters are Spanish Mountain Bikers. They should place them on top of the lists of hazards. Today, we encountered at least 30 of these aggressive species.
At one stage a stick or something rammed into my bike cog. I suddenly stopped. Mike rammed into me and the nose of my saddle hit my top bottock with a tremendous force. After a bit of shouting and swearing, I had checked the damage of the terrible accident, but rest assured, I won’t post the evidence.
We drove into the medieval town of Galisteo as my puff ran out. Mike complaining about his sore butt (not his exact words).
He demanded a coffee, which helps for saddle sore apparently. Then off to Carcabosa.
So tired and gatvol, we find out that the only hotel is ‘esta completa’.
We then find an Auberge with a private en-suite. So far so good. Well kind-of. Mike stands up from the bed with me still sitting and the whole bed lifts, nearly catapulting me through the air. We laugh hysterically, while Maria Magdelena looks at us disapprovingly.
So we shower, only half a person permitted in the ‘bathroom’ at one time. Rush out to make the lunch curfew, just to find out there is a huge festival happening in the small village. Paella’s bigger than houses, brass bands, everyone dressed in either red, yellow or green. In a panic we rush to the supermarket buy bread, ham, cheese, wine and sit outside our Auberge and watch the festival and town go by.