Day 10 - Castilblanco de los Arroyos to Almaden de la Plata (18 miles)

I had forgotten the joys of hostel sleeping: snoring I guess can’t be helped but mobile phone alerts going off in the small hours and people sweeping the room with high intensity head torches while others sleep are easily avoided with only a little thought.

This morning people were up much earlier than I expected (another hostel trait) and preparing themselves for the day. The real fun started though when they tried to leave; the doors were locked and an external iron grid gate made doubly sure that nobody could leave until the official door opening time (I have to say it is the first time I’ve come across such a policy, let alone having it enforced). I'm not sure about the safety but it was entertaining to watch the efforts of those who wanted to get on the road. And it wasn’t even 6am.

I would have happily stayed longer but I was up and there was nothing to stay around for. So not long after the first few walkers left I followed into the dark. The first ten miles were on an undulating road but it was thankfully quiet and cool with a clear, starlit sky. I could hear the occasional owl through the encompassing darkness; this was definitely countryside even though I could not see it. I enjoyed the peace of a pre-dawn morning, saw the first streaks of day, and with the coming light could see the surrounding landscape of fields and trees and shrub extending into the distance. It felt very remote. 

There then followed the best part of the day: three hours along the hilly, sandy tracks of the Sierra Norte National Park.  Narrow streams, and trees and shrubs dotted on a rolling landscape, it made for enjoyable if not effortless walking and ended with a hard and winding climb over the ridge between the park and Almadén de las Platas. After half an hour, with legs burning and a shirt soaked through exertion, I took in the excellent views from the ridge top as I looked back to the horizon and across the dry and foliage peppered ground over which I had walked.

Almadén is a small, white village of few streets, a stork populated church tower and what seems to be an abundance of bars. I have the impression the Camino serves it well. I am now in a small private hostel, chosen in the hope most would go for the larger and cheaper municipal one. However, it seems I wasn’t the only one thinking this and all the beds here are occupied. We shall see what the night brings.