After my epic sleep and with no damage by falling trees I broke camp. I’ve been using pine needles to make a deep soft bed, Ray Mears would be proud, and I haven’t slept that long in any pension bed.
The days hike,20km or so, consisted of a lot more ups and downs nearly all of it in pine or laurel forest, the last half in the cloud, so views were limited.
There was a lot more wooden steps, it seemed at times like job creation, and a lot of zig zagging across debris strewn forest slopes.
Being out of touch I had forgotten it was a Sunday so was slightly surprised to be sharing the forest with so many mountain bikes, hikers, trails bikes and runners hurtling past me down the steep drops. And I often heard gunshot off in the distance although I haven't seen anything to shoot.
I think it's brilliant that all these ancient paths, and there are tens of thousands of kms of them across Spain, used for centuries, probably with a fair bit of drudgery involved, should be kept open and repaired for recreational use.
At the supposedly “well equipped” rest area of Siete Fuentes , where there were no Fuentes let alone Siete, and the table and benches had disappeared, I was joined by a middle aged couple of likely lads with big staffs out on a hike who insisted I shared their vino and some dry powder(?) with them. I shared my La PALMA fig cake and they then produced more vino and sweet cakes. I had only been hoping for some water. Water to wine– must be some kind of divine intervention.
I certainly needed it to deal with the next few hours of life in the wet mist,trudging along the muddy trails.