TRAVERSE 62
forgetting milk. Wine, however, was remembered immediately.
A sign pointing to a mirador lured us up a dirt track, which wound all the way to a little chapel perched on a hill with a spectacular view. Worth every bump. Back at the apartment it was maps out again, plotting the next day’ s route using Duncan’ s list.
We woke early, I made eggs, and we rode out into the chill. The road wound beautifully up over the hills, then down into the valley. About
TRAVERSE 62