Fromista—Day 12

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I walked for 34 km through limitless miles of long waving green grass. I hardly saw any other pilgrims, but hiked up the great walls of the table-land—small mountains with their heads chopped off. In the distance a whole forest of windmills worked furiously, while in the other direction the mountain city I'd just passed through dwindled in the distance. On top of the mountain was the ruin of an ancient castle (next time I'm going to sleep there). I walked on very high flats for a long time, and the wind was furious!! I felt like I had all of Northern Spain to myself, so I sang Irish ballads for hours.

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