Today’s test was wind.  Constant 35-50+  mph headwinds had us bent over, pushing hard on poles, and sometimes doing a quick about-face to withstand the strongest gusts.  It never let up for more than a few seconds for an entire 6 hours of trekking, sometimes pushing us a few feet to the side, making us pilgrims look like a line of drunken soldiers finding our sea legs.

One cyclist who was taking a break suddenly found himself on his back in a ditch with his bike on top of him. Another pilgrim stopped at a bridge to ponder whether it was safe to cross, only to witness a large tree come crashing down right in front of him on that bridge. We were lucky to be in wide-open terrain all day - no wind breaks, but no falling trees.

On the bright side, we did just barely keep ahead of the rain clouds that were pummeling our friends a few villages back along the route. The total climb of 2530 feet uphill (253 floors, plus 2,090 feet or 209 floors downhill) wasn’t as noticeable since even the flat and downhill portions were a struggle against the wind (yes I was singing Bob Segar). Tonight’s town of Belorado is at 2,533 feet (772 metres) above sea level - I had no idea we were this high. I hope Bettel's flatlander Chicago cousin Scott from day one got his mountain lungs.

Some days I hike without a single photo or a single thought to write/share - just in myself and in the rhythm of the journey.  Today I lifted my head often enough to squint through the swirling dust and see beauty everywhere.  Fields of drying sunflowers, sun piercing through parting clouds like a bible cover, old wooden doors and close-to-collapse brick & stone buildings, my powerhouse of a wife bent into the wind like an NFL linebacker or a determined Ent.  Given the choice of exhaustion or exhilaration, I chose to embrace (and record, and share) this day.