Several times we noticed narrow structures, built of different materials, all the same shape, and sometimes with crosses, like this one with brick facing:
Wait, this one is more interesting:
What could they be? Perhaps a burial place for ancestors or a shrine of some sort. No, they are for storing maize, or at least that was their original purpose.
In places, the landscape was reminiscent of the Yorkshire Dales:
Perhaps even more convincing?
But then we see this and know that, no, not the Yorkshire Dales:
There were moments that made one feel as if this could be the Cotswald Way:
But then a corrective would bring us back to Galicia:
Like fall in Connecticut?
Uhhhh...no:
Very pretty all the same:
There were areas of huge trees:
and of many trees:
and tall, flat stones used as fence posts:
Garbage service needed:
A popular memorial in the mist:
At our rest stop, we spy a man wearing a hat decorated with flowers. Tanya asks if he would mind being photographed. He went one better! "With the lady?" So, yes! With the lady! Meet Joe, a fine fellow from Bavaria!
Oh, those yellow arrows, along with Ian's uncanny sense of direction, have kept us from going astray, and for both we are, many times over, grateful:
An arrow of painted shells, is especially terrific:
The bridge into Portomarin is very high:
and long:
Immediately upon arrival, we headed for a restaurant. It was about 2:00, so we were ready for anything. The first place we saw advertised itself as being Italian and offered pizza. Peppe's? Sally's? Modern? How ridiculous to expect brick oven en España, but what we got was round and edible, bore a superficial resemblance to "a pie," and filled us up.
In Portomarin, we were put up in a hotel with a fancy fancy lobby, but the beds had plastic covered mattresses and lumpy, plastic covered pillows! Everything squeaked, which negated the fancy factor.
We left Portomarin by way of an impressive staircase:
Our 16.91 mile walk to Palas de Rei had a lovely beginning along paths through woods, but most was tedious track walking beside roads. However, we did have a surprising and outstanding lunch.
At about 1:45, as we drew near to a cafe, Tanya noted that there were several cars in front, so, she deduced, and rightly so, if people are going to drive here to eat, the food is likely to be good. Yes!
For a first course, she and Ian had a hot cream of vegetable soup served in low, glazed, clay bowls, and I had grilled vegetables, which were delicious. For the second, we all ordered the chicken strew, which turned out not to be a stew but tiny, and I mean tiny tiny tiny whole roasted chickens, so so tender and tasty.
So there we were, middle of the day (according to the Spanish timetable), having walked about fifteen miles, Tanya and Ian sharing a bottle of wine, all of us feeling quite marvelous that we could interrupt our walking to enjoy so exquisite a meal, beautifully served, before heading off to reach our destination.
Continuing toward Palais del Rei, we discovered that Spain can boast some gigantic worker ants:
But, gee, no climbing on las hormigas:
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