A slightly earlier than usual start had me out of the hotel around 9:30 am. I noticed my front tyre was a little soft so tried to add some air. No luck - and I blamed the cheap pump I'd bought in Santander. OK, the tyre was not so soft that I couldn't ride on it...

On the way out of the city, I saw a petrol station and went in to use the air machine. One € for five minutes. But it only took me one to see that no air was going into my tyre. I pressed the 'release' pin on the valve stem and no air came out. The problem was, apparently, with the valve. I poked away at the pin, hoping to dislodge whatever was blocking it. To no avail.

This presented a more challenging problem: if I couldn't let air out of the tyre, how could I remove the tyre to replace the valve?

I clearly wasn't thinking straight. I do have a stem removal tool in my tool kit but that thought never crossed my mind!

I stopped at another petrol station and increased its pressure to 4 bars (about 60 psi) to see if that would clear anything. Nope. (I'm not sure the pressure was any higher coming out of the machine, just when it would cut off.)

Aha! Across the road was an automobile tyre shop. I rode across the forecourt, leaned my bike against the wall, and removed the front wheel. I took it into the front area where, presumably, the manager tried to make sense of my signing and 'explanation.' Basically, a problem with the valve and I couldn't remove air. He took me into the workshop and retrieved a mechanic who appeared to be detailing a car. Maybe his own; it was a quiet Saturday morning. The mechanic discovered what I already had, then got a stem removal tool and unscrewed it. It still didn't want to come out but needle-nose pliers did the trick. I had sunglasses on in a dark workshop so couldn't really look at the stem; I think it was probably gummed up with sealant. The mechanic took the new stem out of one of my spare valves, screwed it in, and inflated the tyre for me. Then dug about in a tray of parts and put a stem in my spare valve so that I still had a working spare.

Wheel back on, bill paid (5€) and I was on my way, much happier, still before 10 am. Nice interactions with friendly people!

For a while I shared the route with the camino although the service road beside the autovia was hardly special. Then the pilgrims' route took off without me. I would stick with tarmac as much as possible.

Then it was my turn to leave the service road and the noisy autovia, onto a fairly smooth road with a bit of traffic but adequate hard shoulders so I didn't feel particularly threatened. Somewhere the camino crossed me again but I missed it.

The road, despite the traffic, was easier riding than the patched service road and the day was progressing well. At about 12:30, I came to the small town of Alpera and headed in the direction of a bar.

I hadn't breakfasted and food of some sort was required. En route to the bar, I noticed a restaurant with a sign for a menu del dia. Problem solved. Salad, gazpacho and some fish. I'd covered about half the required distance for the day and was well fed.

My after lunch ride was still on tarmac, a smaller road but without a shoulder. Traffic was rare, fortunately. Early afternoon now, and the temperature was rising. But, whether due to rest or to the terrain, I was feeling more up to the day's challenges. The road was quiet enough that I could cross the road for a rest and a drink when an occasional tree offered shade. The hotel I had just left had a fridge in the room so I had started the day with quite cold water but it was warming up now.

Whenever I stopped, it was very peaceful, despite having to swat the bothersome horseflies that took a liking for my lower legs. Oh, and the buzz of flies that congregated whenever I stopped.

There was an 83% chance of 10 mm of rain in the forecast, and cloud did seem to be building to my right. And a regular rumble of thunder, while I was still in the sun. While I didn't really want to be caught in a storm, I would not have minded the cloud cover.

As I climbed, there were copses of pines, and juniper. A sign nailed to one tree forbade the collecting of pine cones. Then a sign to beware of lynxes for the next 5 km. Wouldn't that be a treat? But highly unlikely, I thought, in the middle of a hot afternoon. Only mad dogs and Englishmen...

I rolled into Higueruela and stopped at the first bar, La Garnacha, for a large Heineken. Zero alcohol content! Then pushed my load the remaining 300 m to the hotel. Made it! I'm here for two nights.

My camera came out frequently today!

I wasn't very impressed with the route that cycle.travel came up with; it seemed to take three sides of a rectangle. So I decided to go with the pilgrims' Camino. More gravel surface so more effort – I hoped the reduced distance would compensate.

Being on the Camino proper for the day, I would be seeing more of the typical Camino markers. Maybe a photo project for this post?

The shell marker, somewhat counter-intuitively, is pointing to the right. All the 'rays' represent Caminos, all converging upon Santiago de Compostela.

The terrain was fairly flat, and well cultivated considering the heat. Up to 35°C today.

Easy enough riding on rough gravel. Flat, and not enough shade!

A cross, marking the distance to Santiago de Compostela. 1000 km. I won't be making it that far, I figure. Not without focusing on the destination rather than the journey, and I don't want to do that. Maybe I should just aim for Zamora, where the Camino Levante joins the Via Ruta de la Plata?

This thought didn't age well! As you will see.

I am fairly sure I wouldn't want to be walking through here. Little shade and draining enough on the bike. I riding slowly but still about three times the speed of a walker. Of course, I rest a lot, milking what little shade I can find, and hiding out for a while at lunchtime. On foot, you wouldn't have the luxury, the time, to do that.

An old shelter at the side of the trail: shade for shepherds? A cultural notice called it a 'Cuco del Camino de la Pilica.' Incorrectly, I assume, translated by Google to the Cuckoo Path.

I disturbed lots of crickets as I rode along the double track path. Did you know that they have a mild sting? When you ride into them at speed.

Then a steep climb up into the old town of Chinchilla, the end of the seventh stage of the Camino. Only seven since Valencia? It seemed much more. Everything start to blur together after a while; a benefit to me of this blog is that I have a reminder of what has gone before but expunged from my brain by the sun. Or is it by old age?

I had lunch in Chinchilla. I don't recall what I started with but I then had some shrimp in garlic. In so much garlic.

The next stage was a short one, only 16 km to the reasonably sized town of Albacete. I continued after lunch, when the day was at its hottest.

Only 16 km but it took a couple of hours. Featureless landscape brought me into the town, over the railway line that had never been that far away all day, and to a hotel and air-conditioning.

Caracoles for dinner. Snails, that is. I had wanted to try them last year but hadn't. Tonight I did. So I won't have to again. Little green heads poking out of shells, to be grabbed by the teeth and pulled into my mouth. I persevered. Gazpacho to follow cleaned my mouth out nicely.

A buffet breakfast with something I could stomach: granola. A rare treat to set off with something in me that hadn't needed forcing down. Spanish toast is more difficult this year, presumably because of the Ozempic I'm taking.

I made my way to the cathedral to pick up the start of this day's Camino stage. From my vantage point, the cathedral wasn't spectacular so, with no further ado, I followed the route out of the city. Through parks and cycle lanes, initially, to more industrial outskirts of the town. Then over the railway lines, again but at a different point, and into the countryside.

Open and very dry, threadbare grains struggling in the parched earth. Or no crops at all. No country for old men. (Then what was I doing here?)

I paused in the shade of this tree long enough for three high speed trains to pass on the line about half a kilometre to my left. And to exchange half-a-dozen WhatsApp messages with my brother in London. And to have several drinks of tepid water. Enjoying the breeze which was quite cooling, evaporating the sweat from my shirt. The day was forecast to have strongish winds (30 kph). But a tailwind, for once! The wind was slow to pick up. I didn't notice it unless I was stopped, so it was probably travelling at about my pace. Around 12 kph. Repeated procrastination was in evidence before heading back out into the shadeless terrain.

So it continued until I passed into a town and found a bar. I wasn't hungry but had a half litre of gassy water (gaseosa) and a flavoured drink with mineral salts in it. Then I repeated it. So, one and two-thirds of a litre of liquid and no sweat to show for it. Nor the need to pee. In this heat, after a morning pee, I didn't generally go again until in the hotel at the end of the day. No doubt I am quite dehydrated much of the time.

There was one set of cycle tracks in the dust but how old? I had no idea. A fellow long distance cyclist or someone out for some daily masochism?

In the afternoon, the wind picked up. And it was either a sidewind or, more often, a tailwind. Perfect. Pedalling was much easier, almost fun. I still felt dessicated but at least I was making good progress.

The only water I've seen in a while!

I settled into a pleasant and quite inexpensive hotel in La Roda. For two nights. The wind forecast, which had been accurate today, promised headwinds tomorrow. A good excuse for a rest day; today would have been grim with the wind in my face.