With neatly packed backpacks, we trudged through the open landscapes of Andalucia. Only every 15 miles or so did we enter a hill town dominated by an old Moorish fort.
Our peregrinations fell into a happy routine of walking, sleeping and eating tortilla and olives. Lots of olives. Occasionally we'd pass a deserted finca. Sam would put a note under the door offering to buy it and Phil would pinch the pomegranates.
The first day was fine, the second day found our blisters and by day ten we were ready for a break. Cordoba was a tonic of charming side-streets, intriguing history and the sublime mosque.
Moving on, the scenery changed beneath our boots. We trekked through olive groves, oak-filled meadows, pig enclosures and uninviting rivers. We were now in Extramedura - known for its mud.
There is a grand old church in every small Spanish town and a pilgrimage is still respected. There aren't many peregrinos on this particular route so we appreciated the words of encouragement and even titbits of cheese and wine from the locals en route.
We only had to follow the yellow arrows but we did get lost once or twice. It was getting dark when, somewhere near Castuera, we wandered off track. But, guided by the smell of boiling sugar, Sam led us into a local nougat factory for directions.
Many strides later, we reached the town of Merida. The amphitheatre, hippodrome, aqueduct and the longest existing Roman bridge were all impressive features. However, it was the sauna at the beautiful 4 star parador hotel that we really loved.
We shall return for the stage from Merida to Santiago... Only 800 km to go!
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