Day 27 - Fuenterroble de Salvatierra to Morille (20 miles)

I stepped out at 7.30am into the orange light of dawn. This morning, despite the cold, I felt back in Spain: big skies, flat and open country and the outline of hills in the far distance. After an easy start it was a long, steady climb to the highest point so far on the route, a hill topped with wind turbines and with views across an empty plain to the far horizon. I sat for a while to rest, enjoying the breeze and the scenery before a long descent down to an isolated road through flat, shrubby landscape. Unfortunately it was then road nearly all the way to Morille, the shrub giving way to cultivated fields and the occasional remote farmhouse. On the plus side I saw hardly any cars but pounding tarmac for three hours is hard on the feet. When I left the road it was another sole punishing final two miles on a pebble strewn track before getting to the albergue in this tiny stone built village in the middle of nowhere.

I arrived at the albergue sore and tired. It was locked. There was a number to ring - not unusual in the smaller villages - so I rang it. Or at least I tried: there was no mobile coverage. I grudgingly wandered up the gentle hill leading to the village centre - only a matter of yards - and tried again. The key is at the bar I was told. But the bar is shut I said. Not the bar next to the albergue the other one in the village back the way you have come. Just ask someone. Well I would have if there was anybody to ask but the village was deserted. It was siesta time. I knocked on the door of a small house from which I could hear voices and was directed to the bar, hidden away down a small and narrow street. Eva, a Belgium cyclist who I had met yesterday, was there so we chatted while I ate and had a beer then we headed off. No, we didn’t need keys the barman said, he had arranged for the albergue to be unlocked. However, back at the albergue we found it still locked. Eva kindly undertook to cycle back and find out what was going on. It turns out this tiny village runs two albergues and we had gone to the wrong one (the one which is, incidentally, that shown on my app and in both mine and Eva's guidebooks).

Hilltop View

All the faffing over I am now showered and fed and able to relax. Tomorrow it is a relatively short twelve miles to Salamanca although I am guessing a good proportion of that will be in the city and pounding pavements. On the plus side, I will have two nights there to recover before heading off again.