Having reached the hills, the walk was now fairly flat and gentle. Nowhere to buy water in Calzada but there was one of the nicest fountains outside of the village. Five stars for friendliness, Calzada.
Today's excitement was mostly about where to find a mid-morning coffee as it was a Sunday and there were only two villages en-route.
Fortunately the first one Valverde de Valdelacasa, had a cafe and also one of the most imaginative arrows I've seen for a while.
So having had coffee and an inspired arrow to point the way, the next issue was going to be lunch, not having been able to find anywhere to buy food for the journey.
The next town, Valdelacasa, however seemed completely dead. No-one on the streets. It was a Sunday so headed to the centre and and the church. Nothing. Nada. Complete silence.
I was just getting resigned to doing the last 8km without any food when I saw an old man at his doorway, the first living creature I had seen. I asked the all-important question, "hay una bar aqua?"
He seemed surprised by the question and pointed down the road. Fifty yards down I turned right and suddenly the secret to a dead town came to life. It's not on any google maps, any or guide, but if you want company - indeed to find anyone in the town on a Sunday lunchtime - you head to Bar Bolerin in Calle la Atalaya. Everyone was there. Complete pandemonium. Kids running in and out, people drinking outside, a wonderfully chaotic scene. Went in, dropped the rucksack on the floor and found a table. Food was quickly delivered - thin pork steak sandwiches, served hot and delicious. I stood at the bar and ordered beer, only to get into a lively conversation with the locals who had well-founded and persuasive views that only vino Tinto would give me the strength to walk to Fuenterroble. Didn't take much to convince me.
Two other pilgrims came into the bar but didn't stay, obviously thinking the place was a bit disreputable. I loved it.
Eventually left after saying goodbye to the drinking companions and headed off. There were some very friendly horses who came over to say hello on the edge of town - I reckon they often do well out of slightly drunk pilgrims staggering out of town.
Fuenterroble is a bit of one-horse town. There was no answer when I rang the number for the accommodation. A nice barman saw me standing there and came over to offer help. He then made a call and eventually a tiny woman appeared and guided me to the accommodation. It was a bit chilly so lit a fire by putting half a tree onto an open hearth fire and then went out to eat.
Then back to the now very cosy guesthouse. The fire was still smouldering the next morning.
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