We left Ourense very early in the morning, before it was quite light outside. Of course, the fact that the morning was overcast did not help the matter. We left the old part of Ourense by a very old bridge.
Our first stop of the day was in the village of Cea. It is fairly well known for its bread that is very distinctive in Spain. Not only in style but also in law. By law, you can only make this bread in Cea. It is
appellation controlé to the point that the loaf we bought had a serial number on the bag. To be honest, I didn't think it was that special, aside from its double bun shape. It was more interesting than the average Spanish loaf though.
We were getting ever closer to Santiago. Cockle shells were increasingly common on the roadsides, such as the one I am photographing in the photograph taken by Chris.
We made a fairly significant detour to visit a monastery whose name eludes me but it was very impressive. Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take pictures inside it. Likewise, we weren't allowed to take pictures inside a nearby museum of old agricultural implements. I would have dearly love to be able to take a snap of the
matatopo or "molekiller" in essence a large club.
From the monastery we climbed along and up a ridge into an upland that looked more like my idea of undeveloped section of rural Ireland than rural Spain.
Atop the ridge, we saw the blades of wind turbines swooping out the mist in an almost spooky manner.
Afterwards, there was a long, and glorious downhill made all the more satisfying with the knowledge that there would be no more big ridges to climb before Santiago. Near the end of that day my odometer went from this...
...to this!!!
It had been at zero in Seville.
Our first stop of the day was in the village of Cea. It is fairly well known for its bread that is very distinctive in Spain. Not only in style but also in law. By law, you can only make this bread in Cea. It is appellation controlé to the point that the loaf we bought had a serial number on the bag. To be honest, I didn't think it was that special, aside from its double bun shape. It was more interesting than the average Spanish loaf though.
We were getting ever closer to Santiago. Cockle shells were increasingly common on the roadsides, such as the one I am photographing in the photograph taken by Chris.
We made a fairly significant detour to visit a monastery whose name eludes me but it was very impressive. Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take pictures inside it. Likewise, we weren't allowed to take pictures inside a nearby museum of old agricultural implements. I would have dearly love to be able to take a snap of the matatopo or "molekiller" in essence a large club.
From the monastery we climbed along and up a ridge into an upland that looked more like my idea of undeveloped section of rural Ireland than rural Spain.
Atop the ridge, we saw the blades of wind turbines swooping out the mist in an almost spooky manner.
Afterwards, there was a long, and glorious downhill made all the more satisfying with the knowledge that there would be no more big ridges to climb before Santiago. Near the end of that day my odometer went from this...
...to this!!!
It had been at zero in Seville.
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