The mornings have an interesting challenge. It is frosty and cold, if you walk quickly you can keep warm. If you stop to look at the great sunrise+ after-effects you freeze. I also live in a form of agricultural 'lag'.... I do not appreciate the change in activity until some time after it has all moved on. This morning the wheat fields are turning to sunflowers, potatoes and vegetables

The hostel at Tosantos is run on the same lines as the night before....everyone mucks in, but only one thin mattress tonight. I attend the mass at the local church, followed by a tour of the hermit church. Afterwards I meet and share a beer with Toby another genial Englishman who is between appointments at work and doing a high speed dash to as far as he can get in the time available.

Food is cooked by the three troubadours (my name for them)...two Italian and one Spaniard. I regret I do not have pictures of them or failed to record their names, they were great guys. One of the Italians is a chef by trade and makes a superb Macaroni with tomato and pimento sauce. Regrettably he also represents his country at snoring.