7 October Partly cloudy still warm but getting cooler as we ascend the heights

An unusually bad ride today. Really the first very poor ride of the adventure. Nothing to see, the same nothing QB saw yesterday (yesterday I had a good zigzag and interesting sights) with no real alternatives except the National highway. Many large trucks, convoys, etc. Got off a few times to ride the rocky Camino. The large double trucks tailgate one another and leave a nasty partial vacuum when they rapidly pass by.

The morning started nicely with a change of pace. As QB’s leg is still quite swollen thought it best to take the morning to see Santo Domingo, the cathedral, and enjoy the four star Parador.

Shots of yet another retablo, this one from the cathedral at Santo Domingo. Pics not included.

Santo Domingo is named after a person who for many of his 100 years devoted himself to helping pilgrims make the trip more easily. A bridge in town (bridges are a real big thing in the 11th century), a hospital, accommodations, food, comfort items.

In Belorado there are two churches, each open half the year. Unusual set up. Each has excellent stork nests on top, picture included.

Just before Belorado we passed into Castile y Leon.

One of the more pleasant aspects of traveling is Spain is the meal time. In France if QB and I met after 13:00 or 13:30 we could not eat together; all restaurants closed. In Spain as long as we meet after 6 am we can be well fed.

Times of the day: We were instructed at a local panaderia that Buenos Dias ends only after Comida (which starts at 14:00, see earlier posts for full time schedule); only then does it become Buenos Tardes. As to Noches, after about 20:30.

May not be any blog entry published tomorrow as we climb even higher to a really remote village, maybe smaller than a village about half way to Burgos. Will get to above 1100 meters so it may be a lot colder.

QB notes on the French: while checking into parador yesterday, a Frenchwomen (whose English was less than or equal to my French) behind us asked where we were from. I said “U.S.” She said she thought I was English because I had an English accent. I assured her I was not a Brit and had an American accent. She, with some authority, stated that I did have an English accent; she recognized it because she had been to London and, American accents were too difficult to understand (citing Kentucky as, apparently, a prime example). The conversation ended there (before my head started hurting as much as my knee). Best to cede the supreme knowledge of the French.

Bus tomorrow and next day with lots of Aleve. Hope to walk again after Burgos.