Carchelejo-Cambil

Dear friends,
As I travel north-east, people are becoming more friendly. The people who
own the casa rural where I stayed last night (primitive but very cheap, 15
euros) were interested in what I am doing, and knew about the route and the
difficulties of yesterday's walk. This afternoon in Cambil, I had lunch in
a bar where again they asked me what I was doing and where I was from. I
had a long conversation with the barman about the damage done to the olive
trees by the frost, and about the inequities of global capitalism.
I need to tell you about my day. I was awoken by the sound of people
knocking my bedroom wall down with hammers, and I sprang lightly out of bed
to get some breakfast. Once I'd done that, I bought some groceries for the
rumanian couple, and set out for Cambil. Of course, I couldn't find any
signs for the path, so I made my own way to a point where I knew I must
find it: the motorway. Sure enough, it tunnels under the carriageway along
with a river. I had to exercise some ingenuity to get over the river: a
slab of concrete thrown into the middle provided a stepping stone. Once on
the other side of the motorway, I had to cross back over the river, and
wade through a second with my boots tied round my neck. By this time it was
hot, and the tiredness from yesterday was taking its toll. I struggled
along slowly, following the river course, first along a track, then through
fields, and then up another dirt road to Cambil. It was only 13km in total,
but I really didn't think I was going to get there. The rucksack seemed
twice as heavy as usual, and my feet were screaming by the time I arrived.
I've done nothing since lunch in the bar apart from finding this hostal,
and having evening tapas in the bar of the hostal that were more like
mini-meals.
Tomorrow I will either press on to Torres, or stay here, depending on the
state of my feet.
Distance today 13km.
___
A wayfarer in Spain