León is on the Camino Francés so there had been peregrinos around. I would be sharing the route with the peregrinos for a few hours today.

A shorter day today, so I decided to try out the gravel routing option from cycle.travel What a joy it proved to be!

Almost immediately, I was on a well-graded gravel road, between freshly planted fields with seeds starting to poke through. It was harder riding, none of the smooth pavement, and my speed was down a few kph. But I was where I wanted to be, in the countryside. No traffic. Wide open vistas. Varied enough to keep me happy.

Some was rockier than it needed to be. You can't have everything. Yet this was pretty damn close!

If I was still teaching courses in water resources, I would have 'measured' the width and the side slope of the canal, and dropped some floatable vegetation into it to estimate the velocity of the flow. Then I could calculate the slope of the channel. But, if I were still teaching, I wouldn't be here. I'd be in a windowless classroom. I would, most definitely, rather be where I am right now!

I do sometimes – briefly – regret no longer teaching. Daily interaction with young adults is a privilege, and keeps you on your toes. There is little to no chance that I will teach again and, when I think about it, I am happier for that. Not the teaching, not the students, but the dealing with administration and managers.

Mustard is being grown here, I think. The poles in the background is for irrigation. Despite the wet weather of the last few days.

I had to adlib a bit. My route would indicate left or right occasionally along roads that no longer existed, as one or the other field had encroached. But, generally, if I headed south when this occurred, I was still going in the direction I wanted. Or that seemed to be the pattern until...

...the generous, wide and graded dirt deteriorated...

...until there was little gravel to be seen.

A thistle barrier paused progress. This is the one occasion when I wish I had not been wearing Chaco sandals. But at least I didn't end up with thistles clinging to my socks. And the barrier was easily skirted.

The gravel route was slow, and it was easy to stop for photographs. Perhaps I overdid it with the camera. But this is a day I don't want to forget – and at my age, a visual reminder is always useful! Also, the route and views were varied and I'd like to show this.

I was having a wonderful time. Early on, I had passed a tractor and a truck parked on the wide gravel road. Two men, one adding fluid to the tractor. Since then, I had seen no-one. Quiet, beautiful, solitary riding. On a varied surface that beats tarmac any day! At least on a day like this. If I'd had further to go, tarmac might have helped but I was enjoying the scenery and solitude too much.

For a while, my dirt path paralleled a paved road with significant traffic. Then, at a crossroads, a transport truck came to a halt. A man, leading a huge flock of sheep, went by the truck. He saw me, and shouted for me (I presume) to move, he was coming my way. I rode on and paused to watch as his flock of several hundred sheep dispersed into a field to eat the remaining stalks after harvest. I hadn't seen sheep, in numbers greater than ten or so, yet. Different sheep, too: grubby, off-white.

Rain was in the forecast. I might be catching up with it.

Yes, there are humans around. Not very many, but one was loading this hay truck.

The rain, when it came, was not too serious. It was cool enough for me to put on a fleece under my rain jacket but not so bad that I put on waterproof pants over my shorts.

A spectacular day. If I can get some more like this, I'll be a happy camper rider.