clairedavieswriter

The streets of Salamanca were deserted at 8.30 this morning, which had us seriously questioning the locals’ work ethic, until we discovered that April 23rd is Día de Castilla y León. Of course it is. Fortunately we found one bar open – a versatile business, where we could have chosen kebabs, cocktails or churros con chocolate, but played it safe with coffee and madalenas (buns). We cycled out of Salamanca across a 2,000 year old Roman bridge, which offered a fine view of the cathedral (Bernard turned around for a last look).

And then, after six days cycling southwest, we finally turned south, and joined the Vía de la Plata, which we will follow all the way to Seville. I could tell you about it myself, but this poster from our ferry to Bilbao does the job perfectly:

To this day, metre-high Roman milestones mark the trail:

And we’re guessing that the thousands of granite fence posts we saw along the route – like the one Bernard is leaning against here – are actually re-purposed Roman paving slabs:

The arable lands we passed through on the way to Salamanca gave way today to high pastures and livestock – most visibly, cattle, some of which were destined for the bullring (ganado bravo – fighting bulls)

Virtually every gateway bore the estate’s brand – literally – the sign with which they mark their animals’ hide

And although we saw only a handful of pigs, there were signs they too form a key part of the local economy.

Indeed the small town of Frade de la Sierra seemed to depend on them entirely

Two of its ham companies seemed to be competing for the ugliest head office prize

But the most striking feature of our day was the snow capped Sierra de Béjar, which loomed ever closer on the horizon:

The air was often heavy with the scent of lavender and broom

Though after a zero degree start, it stayed chilly – not too surprising since we spent the day between 850 and 1,100m above sea level. But as usual we were kept warm by the climbs:

And cheered by the prospect of a good view

Possibly the best view of all was of our destination, the old mill town of Béjar, perched on a ridge beneath its mountain

Curiosities of the day include Bejar’s Body of Man River – I think I’d rather not know how it came about its name

This lone shepherd, minding his flock high on the meseta, assisted by two German Shepherd dogs (which I’d never before seen used for that purpose)

And this health-defying fountain that would surely test the faith of any pilgrim

But my sign of the day was the ham business owned by the fabulously named Big Belly Brothers. Perhaps a case of ‘le patron mange ici’?

Tonight we’re in another bijou studio, this time with a view of the mountain

I’m glad I had my domestique with me to carry the lads up the stairs