Day 6 crossing the Meseta

The days ride was spectacularly desolate. The sky stretched forever and the land was scorched gold and brown.  If Les Landes of last year were monotonous the Metses was about perseverance.  I had a sense that life here is hard.  Arable farming appeared to be at the heart if the land and seemed to fashion the landscape  which contrasted magnificently with monolithic churches and redundant castles.  

Or maybe it was just the prescence of the vultures and buzzards circling overhead that gave this region it's sense of starkness. 

The only break to  the skyline was when it was pierced by huge "steel angels" turning their wings in the hot thermal breeze. 

But there was always a pelegrino fountain of cool fresh water to be found in every village I passed through.

And a photo opportunity. 

Onwards.