The dawn broke gently over Salas, whispering its light into shuttered storefront window of our albergue. The sounds of fellow peregrinos stirring and our own well-trained bodies nudged us awake. The morning rituals were carried out in a hushed silence of rustling gear and quiet exchanges. We sat down to a simple breakfast, savoring the calm before the day's journey.
With our packs secured and spirits high, we set out, leaving Salas behind us. The trail welcomed us with a long, steady climb through a verdant forest. The cool morning air was invigorating, and the melodic burble of a creek to our right was a constant companion. On a hotter day, its inviting waters would have been impossible to resist, but today, it was merely a pleasant serenade as we ascended.
The climb continued until we reached a freeway, the autopista, looming high above us. The contrast between the serene natural surroundings and the harsh modernity of the overpass was stark. We navigated a short, treacherous stretch of a curvy rural highway with cautious vigilance. The proximity of the freeway's roar masked the sound of approaching cars, forcing us to rely on our sight rather than hearing. Each tight turn brought a moment of tension, and we were immensely relieved when the path veered away from the road and back onto the safety of the trail.
The arduous ascent brought us to the crest of a hill, where we paused to catch our breath and take in the sight of wind turbines. Their towering blades swirled in mesmerizing patterns against the sky. Like the overpass, this was modern engineering against the backdrop of nature. It is pleasing to see this juxtaposition, and part of the experience of hiking closer to civilization than some trails we have done.
A few kilometers later, we found respite in a small coffee shop, a haven of warmth and comfort. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sound of workers getting ready to start their day. We indulged in cups of coffee and cookies, aware that this would be the last service we encountered for the rest of the day. Savoring the moment, we recharged a little before heading back onto the trail.
The path meandered along hillsides above lush grazing lands, where cattle roamed and the air was thick with their earthy aroma. The dirt roads we walked were scarred with permanent mud puddles, a testament to the relentless passage of tractors. Navigating this muddy maze became a test of agility and patience. At one particularly challenging stretch, we found ourselves clinging to tree limbs, balancing precariously on narrow slivers of dry ground to avoid the ankle-deep mire of mud, manure, and water. It was here that Psycho's trekking pole gave collapsed a little, almost sending him into the muck. With relief he emerged, a little more muddy but not hurt.
The final stretch to Tineo was a descent into the town, guided by steep sidewalks that tested our weary legs. The sight of the albergue was a welcome relief. Arriving first, we had the luxury of choosing our bunks and enjoying unhurried showers, washing away the grime and fatigue of the day's trek.
Refreshed and cleaned, we ventured out for a Vermuth, embracing the Spanish tradition of enjoying this aromatic fortified wine around 1:30 PM. The rich, herbaceous drink was a perfect prelude to a leisurely lunch, its warmth lightly spreading through us. The Vermuth’s soothing effect made us sleepy, and we returned to our bunks for a much-needed rest.
After our siesta, we headed to the local grocery store. The evening was spent in the albergue, eating simple salads. With another challenging day ahead, we turned in early, seeking the restorative power of sleep to ready ourselves for tomorrow’s trials.
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