I left the gite early and crossed the Aragon river as the church bells struck seven.
The same wind that wafted the odours from the paper mill and the sewage treatment plant towards me was furiously turning the blades of the turbines high above me. It's an ill wind...
Later in the day, after a long climb, I found myself on the other side of those wind turbines. I counted 116 of them before they disappeared out of sight at each end of the ridge. Lots of electricity! But one was crook. It stood idle and forlorn while all the others turned.
I had decided to break the last two steps of more than 30 kms into three, but changed my mind when today's 31 kms turned out to be less than that. And the last part was downhill. So tomorrow is my last day, but I may stop short of Puente la Reina to avoid the crowd arriving on the Camino Frances.
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