Sunday morning dawned clear and full of birdsong. This is a short day; breaking a very long day in half. There is an ancient hermitage just past the edge of town. From there we gently descend via a farm road that is intermittently muddy ( it must have been hellaciously sticky during the recent rains).
About an hour along, the route departs the farm road we have been following like a straight line. But not all pilgrims are paying attention to their surroundings. One gent carries on, despite the manifold shouts, yells, and wolf-whistles. I don’t know what the French group did to finally turn him around, but in the end they did succeed and there were assorted cheers from the multitude.
I ran into him again at my morning pause in Sansol; turns out this is his third time astray.
Sundays are quiet in Spain; the tiny grocery in Sansol was popular with the locals getting their bread.
Torres is just down the hill from Sansol, so I arrived in time for lunch. The custom of sitting outside on the terrace, enjoying the the day and watching the world go by, is just capital.
New nationalities to add to my pilgrim conversation list today: two Getmans (Cologne and Heidelberg), a Dane (Jutland), and eight French at dinner.
This is a terrific Alburgue; the most comfortable beds in two weeks, a small and well-stocked shop, and affiliated with the adjacent hotel restaurant. Dinner was quite good: pork loin, mixed salad.
Lodging: Albergue Casa Mariella, Torres del Rio
Kitsambler's Journeys 
Love finding your reports when I turn on my computer. Raining cats and dogs here….