In early March 2016, I found myself in a deserted coach station in Spain. At my feet lay my bike, wrapped in industrial size bin bags. Next to it, my four panniers rested in a line ready to be mounted on the racks. And I stood in front of them, the reality of my journey slowly sinking in. Eventually I hooked the panniers to their rightful place. I got on the bike and off I went. This is what I saw.
For 32 weeks, I will post a batch of photos every Monday morning.
Later words and sounds will come. But for now, I’m going to share what I experienced through the photos I took. If you miss a post, go to this page to find all the links.
The day I left Toro and the warmth of new friends behind, I was faced with a fierce headwind. So when I arrived in Zamora shortly before lunchtime, it didn’t take me long to decide I would stop cycling for the day. Little did I know that the city was about to stamp me as a pilgrim.