My GPS pointed me back towards Monreal del Campo but the lady at the hotel had said to go left, south, for breakfast. It seemed a better plan. After a two or three kilometres I noticed, just off the motorway, I saw a fuel station, hotel and a typical highway restaurant. Typically expensive, not very exciting, but fuel for the day. I sat inside, enjoying the air conditioning, with my bike in full view outside the window.

Then it was time for the day. Gravel to start, to join the quiet road that I was supposed to be on. Then plugging away, in the open countryside, no shade, and the up and down of country roads that were not constrained to the marginal grades that trains demanded.

Shadows flickered across the road and I looked up to see buzzards circling. Did they see me as a potential meal? I hope not. They seemed to have a lookout, watching me with studied disinterest, atop a nearby farm building.

Lots of sky, a little haze to ease the sun, and on I pressed. A cycle-tourer passed me without acknowledgement. The roadies out for a spin were more friendly. Into the 'Communidad de Teruel' while still in the autonomous community of Aragón.

I was cheating a little today by not continuing alone the Via Verde. The rail trail climbed (relatively steeply for a rail line) up to the old mining town of Ojos Negros, and then there was plenty of up and down to reach the next section of Via Verde. And there was no accommodation in Ojos Negros. I could save time and effort by heading directly to the next section. This would save me a day and I was becoming more aware of the days flying past too quickly.

I regained a short section of Via Verde as I approached the city. Then I had to leave it to actually ride into the city, down some steep hills (that would have to be climbed to regain the Via Verde) on minor roads, then on rocky gravel, until I arrived in Teruel somewhat disheveled and pushed my bike up a steep hill to my hotel. A wearing day in the sun.

I spent a day in Teruel, doing laundry and wandering about. There seemed to be a different style of architecture, with square towers and mosaic work.

I paid my seniors' rate to visit the cathedral. It did seem more interesting from the outside. I also went in to the adjoining museum (included with my cathedral ticket!) which housed mainly a collection of religious art. I did see a picture of a devil who was just like J.D.Vance and I bitterly regret not taking a photo of it, J.D. – in not only my opinion – being the most evil of all Catholics.

The ride back up from the city to the Via Verde was almost as bad as I had imagined. My route was different, which conveniently avoided what had been a steep uphill push into the city; I started climbing straight away, steeply, up narrow city streets. Then, above the city, upward on gravel to a pergola overlooking Teruel. I lay in the shade for a while while joggers panted past.

Then more of the same, interspersed with reasonably easy grades and even some downhill, before final gravel and concrete up to the Via Verde.

It was steady haul upwards for the next twenty kilometres before it levelled off and then provided some downhill coasting into La Puebla del Valverde. A short day, in terms of distance, but it felt like a decent workout. Very pleasant countryside to compensate!

The trail didn't seem to be so well-maintained here, with many of the railings in need of some attention. Not to complain, though; the whole Via Verde Santander to Mediterráneo had been a great way to cross the country. And not a cheap undertaking.

Signs indicated that I was on a camino, the Camino de Sigunt. (Sigunt is on the Mediterranean coast, to the north of Valencia, where this Via Verde terminates.)

I checked in to the very nice hotel just outside La Puebla del Valverde, where I had a room under the sloping roof in the attic. I only banged my head twice on the beams. I watched Spain lose to Portugal on penalty kicks for the final of the Nation's League while I had dinner. Although I had to watch the extra time and penalty shootout in my room so the staff could close up the restaurant.

I had a rest day here. A lazy day, catching up on some blogging. I did notice a couple of bikes outside the restaurant at lunch time: fully panniered bikes with Rohloff gears and battery power. I talked to the riders, an elderly Dutch couple. She was about to turn 81, he was still 80. They were riding north and complained bitterly about the section immediately south. Some sections were blocked off, sign posting was poor, large gravel. And the lady had taken a fall (not serious, as far as I could see). They strongly suggested that I take the road. Mmm, maybe. But the road will have it's own problems - more uphill and downhill than I have grown to like on the rail trails. I'll decide later...

(I rode a little further than indicated above. I changed routes on my GPS and mistakenly ended my ride. Without noticing for a kilometre or two.)

Accepting that everyone's version of a bad trail is different, I decided to stick with the Via Verde rather than the road alternative suggested by the two Dutch cyclists. I hadn't gone too far before I was diverted down off the rail trail, onto dirt farm roads.

I had paused for breath and a photo when I heard voices. I had already decided to push for a while up a steep section and it was too late to jump back on the bike and pretend I was riding! A foursome of fiftyish-year-old men passed me as I pushed. One was pushing also and they were hardly loaded so I didn't feel too bad. I asked where they were going today and heard "Valencia." I looked suitably impressed. (Of course, I may have lost something in translation; maybe Valencia wasn't today.) And at the top of the steep slope, he got back on his bike and pedalled on.

As is usually the case, the trail passed close to towns rather than through them. This had the disadvantage that there was no easy or obvious access to village stores for cold drinks or nourishment. As a result, I often had long days with nothing much more to sustain me than a light Spanish breakfast.

I skirted a number of towns, each with a prominent church tower, on my way.

While on the second detour, three light tourers (one pannier each!) passed me on ebikes, complaining about the detours. I stopped for a chat when they rested under the shade of a tree; they were from the Netherlands. And had come from Turuel today (that had been a separate day for me!). But they (about my age, I suspect) were on ebikes so the uphill from Turuel probably hadn't been as taxing.

Tunnels offered refreshingly cool air, even if they often involved riding blind, trusting that there was no obstacle lurking between lit up sections of the tunnel.

Numerous bridges had been built for the abandoned railway line. Again, I marvelled at the expense. The new rail line had similar bridges. The expense was hard to imagine.

I came to the end of the autonomous community of Aragón and was now in the community of Valencia. I was nearing the end of the first part of my ride.

Hills ahead, with a line of wind turbines, explained that the headwind I was experiencing was not a rare occurrence!

And, then, a traffic jam. There was a flock of sheep crossing the trail ahead of me. I stopped, far enough back, not to spook them but the shepherd beckoned me on. He separated them sufficiently for me to get through but said something when I went to continue. He pointed at a sign, indicating that the trail was 'cut' ahead and there was work being done. Of course, the shepherd spoke no English (why should he?) but with a little help from Google Translate, I turned right.

Right where the majority of his flock were crowded. He got to work again, beating a path for me through the tightly packed sheep. He had a dog, on a tight leash, possibly in training. Then I was through, and on my way.

I ended up on a gravel road, then a paved one, for the rest of the ride. A town I went through had an open store so I had a couple of coolish cans of juice. Late in the day, I arrived in Jerica. At the hotel, there were the four bikers who had, or maybe had not, expected to be in Valencia tonight!