Endless Roads, Quiet Reflections

Daily miles: 34.69 | Total miles: 14,663.46

I got up a little after 6am. Hot coffee, getting ready, and then out the door.

Not long after leaving town, I found myself on a quiet road with very little traffic. Wide, open views stretched out on both sides, and windmills appeared near and far. The fields seemed endless—shades of green and brown, touches of purple and yellow, and light red dots from poppies scattered across the landscape.

I would have loved to run, but I’m still choosing to be cautious. Sometimes I question it—it’s not always easy to make the right call. And then I remind myself: Andrea, there are only a few days left. You might as well enjoy these long, sunny days without pressure, without guilt. It’s interesting to watch how the mind moves.

As I passed through small farming towns, I noticed many abandoned houses—broken, quiet, slowly decaying. There’s something about that which makes you pause.

Twice today, I passed places where animals were being butchered. The sounds carried far, and it brought back a memory of a large industrial facility I once visited to fix something on a truck. The sounds, the smells—it stayed with me. It’s a difficult reality to witness. I can only hope that where this happens, it is done with care and some sense of responsibility.

Later in the afternoon, I passed an abandoned hen house. The roof had collapsed in parts, windows broken, doors hanging open. As I walked by, I caught the smell of something dead. I didn’t stop to investigate, but it lingered.

And still, the day carried on—tractors passing now and then, long stretches of road, and time to think. I stopped for a coffee around mile 11, and otherwise just kept moving through the open landscape.

Around mile 17, I joined part of the Camino de Santiago, though the path seemed to lead off-road. In a small town, I found a poem written on the wall of a house—likely a place that hosts pilgrims during the season:

“When the sunset shows you

the path towards tomorrow,

when your weary bones

find themselves in this, your home;

wash your wounds,

calm your hunger,

quench your thirst

and remember

the promise that brought you

here.”

In the afternoon, the sun felt warm and steady, the road stretched endlessly ahead, and my mind had space—space to wander, reflect, and just be.

When I arrived in Villafrechós, I started looking for a place to camp. A few miles earlier, there had been a nice spot with tables and benches, but now it was mostly farmland, and it’s never quite clear where you can stay without being in the way. I asked a man in town, but he told me there was no place for me to camp. I smiled, thanked him, and kept looking.

Eventually, I walked down a gravel road that seemed quiet enough. So far, so good. I pitched my tent at the edge of a barley field.

The crickets are chirping.

Every now and then, a butterfly lands softly on the tent, or I see the shadow of one passing by. Hundreds of flies rest on the barley outside. It’s warm inside the tent.

Dinner was bulgur and olives.

Time to clean up and settle in.

Thanks for checking in, Andrea