Day Four -- April 2

Another day of lucking out on the weather. The forecast was for a 70% chance of rain, but we got the 30%. Still, we donned rain gear just in case and good thing, since it turned out to be quite windy at times. We met Oleg and the truck with the horses just outside of town and were off. We were heading north and the landscape became more verdant. We went through fields covered with green grass, walking and cantering on the same amazing sandy roads that have carried us each day. As before, most were on the ridges of hills, exposing us to some amazing views of the fields all around us, lit in patches of light and gray as the sun either shone directly or was filtered through clouds.

As always, there was nary a person, not even in the small towns we went through. 

This part of Spain is incredibly sparsely populated -- no farmers working the fields, no livestock in pens clearly designed for animals, no sign of life in the shuttered (but kept up and clean) houses in towns. Maria Elena says the houses are used mostly on weekends, and as for the rest, well, this is a country with a shrinking population.

After winding our way through another holm oak orchard we stopped for our aperitivo, at 12:30. Note the Spanish omelet, made this day and every day by Lucia. In the urns are hot coffee and hot chicken soup. 

And we were done riding for the day -- Maria Elena always gives her riders a half day at some point during the week and this one proved to be opportune.  After checking in at our hotel in Setulveda (a feudal village so named because it changed hands between the Moors and the Spaniards seven times) Enrique drove us through sparse, deserty fields into a national park. (To liven up the drive, he played a music compilation that included "Blue Suede Shoes," "Walk the Line" and "Hound Dog." The van was rocking!) We parked at a barrier and walked down a dirt road to one of the most beautiful views I've ever seen. 

The Rio Duraton had created a series of serpentine limestone gorges that were really spectacular. We looked down maybe 400 feet below to the water and across could see the layered cliffs,some cut deeper than others depending on the type of  sediment.

At the end of the promontory stood the ruins of a monastery that had first been built in the 700s, then enlarged around 1100. It was made from the same limestone as the cliffs and seemed one with them. There was a chapel, several outer walls and a tiny cemetery, all on rocky ground that was slippery with age. We stood in silence for a while and could hear birds singing on the other side of the gorge. Vultures glided overhead. It was an amazing moment.

It was nice spending time with Maria Elena and Enrique as well, rather than just exchanging sentences on horseback.

Then it was back to the hotel in fervent hopes that our walk had made room for dinner. I forgot to mention that lunch, also in Septulvedo, had been the most amazing roast lamb any of us had tasted.  Even after Joe and I had no more room for meat, we were soaking bits of bread in the fatty juices and scarfing them down just to get a little more of the taste.

At dinner, Maria Elena talked about how she had founded the business -- now almost 20 years old! -- and reminded us that she'd leave us in the morning for other business she had to attend to. We'd be joined on the rest of the ride by young Enrique.