Another relatively tough twenty five kilometers. I lost the track completely at the outskirts of Solsona but a kind man hit the brakes of his car, rushed out of it, and came to my assistance explaining that the path had been cut off (está roto) but he explained how to take an alternative route through the corn fields, ending up in the center of Solsona. I never stop to be surprised of the kindness that complete strangers show to a gentleman in his prime wearing trekking boots, yellow stockings, and a heavy backpack
Another stage on the GR-7 that only confirms to me that it is a trail that has been a bit overrated. I think that it quite often gives you a boring walk, often on forest roads with limited outlook for mile after mile, and if not that it follows tarmac roads, or God forbid, goes in steep ravines cut out for high-voltage transmission lines and with a surface of loose rocks. Having said all that I also have to say that none of this really matters anymore as soon as the backpack is put down for the day, and you have had a shower and a cold beer
The hostess at my guest house for the day told me her name was Ingrid and that her grandfather and her mother were from Sweden, her father from Spain, and her grandmother from Switzerland! A truly cosmopolitan family.
