I leave Pareles at 7:15. I am hurried out the door by a concerned Paco, he is convinced that I will die in the storm of heat. He calls my trip to Sevilla “going into hell”. I descend from Pareles, quickly arriving in Caceres 100km away. Brush with death, as a SUV pulls out without looking as I hurtle 50kmph downhill. While yelling, a loud death yell, some part of me, or maybe rose, swerves out and around the vehicle. I keep cycling, because I know that my legs will not work, and that the adrenalin would be wasted on sitting and shaking. A bird of prey circles with a serpente in its claws, waiting to drop it on the hard road.
The historic centre of Caceres is a ghost town, and I am stressed by the seach for WiFi. When I find a network, I plan a route that will end at a reservoir. I sleep in the open, after a swim, occasionally waking to look at the stars or the gradual brightening in the east. Caroline calls again. We agree to meet again soon, in Cordoba. I have wine to celebrate, and go to bed happy,
