A photo in my last post shows me with my mouth open looking towards the valley. I’m  practising my speech therapy (not gasping at the view) but at this early stage it sounds like I’m in pain. Many with Parkinsons lose much of their voice quality and volume and the exercises are designed to open up that part that has lost its flexibility. In one session only, I found my voice strengthen markedly.

Leaving this quiet town, Burguete, we walked out through a farm then soon up into the hills once more, with pilgrims (I’ll use this term for all who are walking towards  Santiago ) coming out before sunrise with many greetings in many languages. We walked the flat part and enjoyed the company of a retired Brazilian man until he sped up into the hills. Steep rocky paths marked this journey while the sun dappled through the pine trees, and caring bushes shaded us as they hugged the narrow paths.  All the while, we greeted past acquaintances and new.

We came upon a procession of at least 100 caterpillars (Oruja’s), all joined together, apparently pine tree dwellers which give a nasty sting.  Not sure what the joining together was all about, neither Google or locals could inform me any further.

Arriving at our daily destination, we crossed over the Arga river, pirouetting and tumbling as though celebrating its wonderful Gothic bridge above, which carries not just people but many myths and legends that have spread across the world, and mainly kept alive in France and India.

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