As is always the case, I was disappointed by the lack of spring in my legs after a rest-day. I just tell myself I would feel worse if I had not taken a day off. And the day started with a long uphill, just to wake me up. Then a long downhill, giving up all my hard earned elevation. Surely, a tunnel would make sense!

I had been asked a couple of times, by hosts, whether I was on the Camino El Cid. El Cid was a large figure in Spanish history and some effort has been put into capitalising on his fame. A Camino El Cid passport is available and those walkers, cyclists or motorists who visit enough points on various El Cid routes could get a certificate. A similar idea to, and no doubt motivated by, the popularity of the Caminos leading to Santiago de Compostela. Often, the Camino El Cid and the Via Verde share a path. For the cyclists and the walkers.

It was a smooth road, with virtually no traffic. Some 'roadies' out for a Sunday ride. Then I noticed that I was riding adjacent to the Via Verde; I hadn't realised I could join it so soon.

I pulled over to look at the trail. It was pretty rough and the smooth road beside it would take me in the same direction for a while, with less effort.

It was while considering these options here that I discovered that I had (again!) left the hotel without returning their room key. I phoned the hotel but didn't get the man who spoke English and it was not possible to communicate meaningfully with his father. I had only ridden six kilometres but didn't want to retrace my path: it would have been a steep uphill, then down to the hotel, and a turnaround to start over, with a reasonably long day still ahead of me.

I messaged the hotel and explained the situation. I would wait for a while beside the road. If they had a car (and they must have), they could reach me in 10-15 minutes.

I didn't hear back immediately, waited in the shade listening to the birdsong for ten minutes, then continued. On the road, in case they came looking for me. A good excuse to avoid the rough trail for a while. Then a message came through to go to a post office and send it back to them. I will, but it won't be right away - towns big enough for a post office seem to be few and far between on my route.

As the Via Verde began to drift away from the road, I pushed my bike through high grass for forty yards and up on the gravel. Progress was more difficult but still pleasant.

Occasionally I was close to a road again and I would switch to the smooth pavement. But never for long, before I had to regain the Via Verde.

A couple of couples passed me going the other way, without bags, out for a Sunday ride. Then, while I was stopped in the shade chatting with Bev, a couple of male tourists (possibly a little younger and a little lighter then me, but not by a huge amount) stopped to make sure I was not having problems. I reassured them that I didn't need help and they zoomed away on the electric mountain bikes.

Just before this section of Via Verde ended, I took to the road and went to Hortigüela where I had a room for one night. I asked about a second night but the landlord/manager/owner said no room was available. They were 'cerrado' (closed). Fair enough, they need a day off!

I met a German cyclist, living in Malaga, who was coming north on the Vias Verdes. He was averaging 100 km per day and had to be in Santander in a couple of days. (How many weeks has that taken me?) He was travelling extremely lightly, on a beautiful titanium gravel bike and a small backpack.

In the morning I met an English couple who were cycling north as well, although at a more reasonable pace (Ingo had left at seven, not wanting to wait until nine for breakfast. He would breakfast in Burgos.). That explained to two other bikes in the garage.

Today was going to be a long one, but on the road; I was between sections of the Via Verde. I wasn't feeling great, nauseous, but plodding along. I bought bread in a town I passed through and then, on the outskirts, went into a Lupa to stock up on Laughing Cow and to get some juice. Which I drank before leaving the supermarket parking lot.

More climbing on quiet, deserted roads. For the most part. Up into farmland, with cattle wandering freely. Then flocks of sheep.

The day was advancing and I still had a long way to go. I hadn't booked ahead, not knowing how far I would make it. But I seemed to have two options: a nice but slightly pricey hotel in San Leonardo de Yagüe and a more budget option a few kilometres further in Navaleno. For two nights, I favoured the budget option but I had to get there first.

At one of my frequent halts as I rode up in forest, I was quite spectacularly sick. Not projectile vomit, but I didn't have to worry about keeping my sandals out of the firing line. There seemed to be some of the previous night's dinner, and the majority of my juice. But my nausea went away.

Here, there looked to be several places where I could have found somewhere to stretch out my sleeping bag, out of sight of the road, for a pleasant night's sleep. But it was still a few hours until dark so I continued. Now I was into pine forests, on a pleasant road, with little traffic. Except for the occasional logging truck, who seemed much more considerate than their Canadian brethren.

At the top of a hill, I crossed out of Burgos province and into the province of Soria. I was still in the community of Castilla y León.

Downhill to San Leonardo de Yagüe with the sun lowering. It was about 8.00 pm. I booked into the budget option in Navaleno and struggled slowly along the slightly inclined five kilometres to my lodgings. I was tired, stopping for a long rest with only one km to go.