O Cebreiro is on a narrow ridge, so a brief stroll across town can offer a view of Galicia’s east before you descend.
Advancing downward at the very beginning of spring, I found there were still drifts of snow.
A satirist had been busy:
The Zapatero government had just introduced a trial reduction of maximum speed on Spain’s autopistas, from 120 to 110. It did seem odd to many, given the quality and purpose of these modern European freeways. It was not, I was told, a safety measure; rather, some boffins had concluded that the lessening of speed would reduce carbon dioxide emissions.
In any case, I left my own message:
Further along, two lovely ermitas exhibit something we see over and over in Galicia: wonderful skill in stone and slate, often without mortar.
Soon there are no more mountains, just the green hills of Galicia, which will be the pilgrim’s home till the end of the Way.
At the town of Triacastela, where I spent the night, the Camino forks into two alternative routes to Sarria. I meant to take the shorter, northern track, but somehow ended up on the southern. (For some pics and comments on that northern track, check out the KiwiNomad’s post.)
It’s one of the luckiest blunders I’ve made. After some road-bashing, the southern track becomes a ramble along a warm and intimate valley.