After the previous day’s efforts, this would be an easy one: just 5 km to walk to Griegos along a gentle ascent of 100 metres. And a good job too after the rough night I’d had.
Breakfast was at 9, a simple affair, but I didn’t need too much fuel for the day, especially as I could probably get lunch on arriving in Griegos.
At breakfast, I got talking to the girl who I had thought was Australian after having heard her speak English to the restaurant owner the night before. Actually, she turned out to be Danish and was doing a cycle route through the “empty villages”, heading that day for Albarracín. She wasn’t particularly friendly, however, and spent most of breakfast focused on her phone, even though we were the only two people in the place.
I left the hotel at around 10 and began the day by taking a look around the village that I hadn’t seen much of the previous evening. It was a pretty little place, as free of commercial activity as every other village seen until now. The hotel where I had slept and the bar-restaurant where I had eaten the previous evening seemed to be the only two businesses and, once again, I didn’t spot a single food shop. Who knows where the locals do their everyday shopping. It was a sunny day with clear blue skies, but there was no one around in the village despite the fairly large number of cars parked there, and the only sounds were birdsong, the church bells every hour, the babbling of the stream flowing through the village (the Guadalviar river of which I would see more the next day) and the splashing of the fountain on the square.
After wandering around the deserted village for a while, I decided to set off and rejoined the trail where I had left it on entering the village the previous evening. The five kilometres to Griegos would lead me through an area called the “dehesa boyal”. A sign at the start of the day’s trail informed me that it was a popular and even crowded route in summer, one of the most travelled stages of the trail. Once again, I didn’t see a single soul all the way until I reached Griegos.
The “dehesa” system is a multifunctional way of using land that is prevalent in Spain and Portugal. “Dehesas” may be private or communal property and are used primarily for grazing, while producing a variety of different foodstuffs, from honey to Iberian ham (the oaks of the “dehesas” provide the acorns that the pigs feed on). The entrance and exit on the trail were both gated as there were large numbers of horses and cattle grazing on this land. The trail followed a dirt track that vehicles could also use (a couple passed in the course of the morning) and that made for very easy walking. It was another glorious day, with a cool wind blowing, and I loved every step of it.
So as not to arrive too early at Griegos (I could have been there by 11:30!), I noticed on Komoot that there was a trail highlight listed just off the main track, partway along the path that I would follow the next day. And so, at the intersection, I headed downhill to the Fuente Coveta, a beautiful picnic area with tables and a barbecue hut where I spent a couple of hours reading and writing my blog, basking in the sun and identifying different birds with the BirdNET app (hoopoes, melodious warblers, chaffinches and woodpeckers). However, I never spotted the spring (“fuente”) that the spot was named for.
I set off again at around 12:30 for the last couple of kilometres to Griegos, leaving the “dehesa” by the gate just opposite the entrance to the village where a sign promised, of all things, a supermarket! On the edge of the village, there was a large hostel for pilgrims walking one of the many pilgrimage trails that crisscross Spain, but my hotel was in the centre of the village, so I headed down on the other side of the “main” road and entered the village proper.
I arrived at the hotel at around 1:30 pm, the ideal time for lunch. The bar was packed with locals, but the owner showed me to a separate dining room where I was the only customer and served me an excellent “menu del dia” at a ridiculously low price. And once I was finished, she offered to show me to my room way before the normal check-in time. After the bad night I’d had, I gladly accepted, with the idea of a nice long nap at the back of my mind. It was a great little room, with a balcony overlooking the main street. The kids were just heading home from school and, despite the noise they made, I crashed out for an hour or two.
When I woke, feeling very refreshed, it was around 5 pm and I decided to go out and explore. That didn’t really pass much time as the walk around Griegos only took about 20 minutes. But I discovered a pretty little place, set at an altitude of 1 600 metres, that seemed to have more life than other villages along the trail (Tramacastiel or Jabaloyas, say) as there was a school and even a sports centre where the local kids were playing a game of soccer. I’d seen quite a few families with children when school had ended for the day just before my nap, so there was life here. The houses were well-maintained and some were being renovated. A number of them had a bright-blue surround at their windows, perhaps to dissuade flies from entering, that lent a cheerful air to the place. Even so, I never found the advertised supermarket and the only viable business seemed to be my hotel with its bar and restaurant (along with the pilgrim’s hostel at the village entrance). That said, of all the villages passed through up to this point, Griegos was the one that charmed me the most. The high-altitude setting, the well- maintained houses and the friendliness of everyone I passed on its streets created a very pleasant atmosphere indeed.
I wandered back to the hotel to wait for dinner at 8:30 (the bar stayed closed until 8 pm). I passed the time reading, relaxing and writing up the blog of the first few days on the trail, a very enjoyable way to spend time after the previous day’s efforts (and before those awaiting me). I have to say this virtual rest day was a welcome break after six days of hiking.
Dinner was a simpler affair than lunch. The owner offered a range of tapas and/or sandwiches in the bar rather than in the dining room. There were quite a few friendly locals there, some having just a beer, others sharing tapas, and the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. I opted for a sandwich (a boccadillo) with pork loin and sauteed peppers that turned out to be one of the best sandwiches I have ever eaten in my life. Washed down with a glass of red wine, it was the perfect end to another perfect day.
Footsteps 