What coulda/shoulda been a glorious hike in the mountains for much of the day wasn't, though by the end it was redeemed. The path from the outskirts of Rabanal del Camino, where I spent last night, to El Acebo, was about 11 miles, with an ascent of about 2000 feet, and a descent of a little less than that, the descent being much harder on the legs and feet. The path led partly through terrain rife with flowering bushes, partly under the canopy of trees, and partly along the sides of hills with spectacular views, and I crossed two peaks, the higher of the two around 4700 feet. It went through the hilly town of Rabanal which houses a bunch of stone albergues and restaurants and a nice old church, and through two other tiny mountain villages with most of their buildings in advanced states of disrepair, except for some funky albergues and bars, before arriving in the thriving and well-manicured town of El Acebo with its beautiful stone buildings.

Though the temps were moderate the day was very humid and I was pouring sweat by the end of the first kilometer. But I could deal with that. And much of the path was a difficult combo of uneven earth and loose rocks, which was treacherous. But I made my way carefully and slowly and finally ended up walking on the narrow, winding road that was roughly parallel to the path; it was a little longer but easier on the feet. But what made much of the day torturous were FLIES! For about 7 miles they swarmed relentlessly and aggressively, constantly in my face and swirling around my head. I have no idea if they had all hatched recently or if this could possibly be normal. Forget about stopping to take photos or to take a drink--it would only get worse. It was crazy-making. At one point I passed a herd of cows with their ears all twitching and their tails swinging and I wondered if they took it in stride or if it drove them crazy as well.

An indelible image for me: Until I overtook and passed her, for several hundred yards I walked behind a woman who was swinging her walking stick in a constant circle around her head, like a baton-twirling cheerleader, attempting to shoe them away. It was like some sort of strange dance.

And then, after the second peak, a strong cool breeze started up and they were abruptly gone. What a relief! I could finally enjoy the hike. And this part was particularly spectacular. I was on the road by now, and the views were vertiginous, dramatic, and ever-changing. I was reminded of Japanese brush paintings. Huge misty clouds would move by in the foreground, peaks that were exposed would become enshrouded, and the sky would go from grey to bright and back to grey. All with great vistas surrounding me.

I'm so glad the flies were at the beginning and not at the end. I was left with this sense of joy that the Camino was taking me through another entirely different environment. All of a sudden I'm in the middle of the mountains, and more dramatic than those at the start. Cathedral cities, medieval villages, long walks through vineyards and blissful wheat fields, and now once again mountains. What more could one ask for?

But the best part of the day was just past the second peak, when I passed an enterprising young couple peddling cherries on the side of the path. He handed me one to taste and she was waiting with a newspaper cone full for a euro. They may have been the sweetest, juiciest, most delicious cherries I ever tasted.