Waltraud and Albert

I finally arrived at Alcantara Hostal just as a crimson sun disappeared over the horizon.

The hostal lies on the shores of a huge reservoir, created from the damming of the Tajo, one of Spain's great rivers, that rises far to the east.  Descending to the hostal the views of the sunset over the reservoir were spectacular.

Once at the Hostal I was looking forward to a good dinner, and for once I'd phoned ahead to confirm my arrival. You can imagine my disappointment when the pilgrims-in-residence, including Waltraud and Albert, pictured above, informed me that the warden was off, and nothing had been left out. A dinner of peanuts was on the cards.

I gave the number I'd called earlier a quick ring to see if maybe they'd hidden a steak somewhere for me, and before I knew it someone had been despatched to come and sort out food for me. Excellent service, and although I felt bad, the cheery warden who arrived assured me that, "this was nothing", and that people sometimes turned up at 2 in the morning, and this was what he's here for. My conscience now completely clear despite having dragged him out of his house some 30km distant I was then able to tuck into my pizza, which was excellent.

Albert was also delighted with the arrival of the warden as it allowed him to acquire another cheeky beer, the stash he'd put together before the warden had left having run out on him.