Grado to Salas - Pilgrim rhythms

So I asked the donkey, ‘what is the toughest Camino?’
‘The Primitivo, senor’ he answered. ‘Heehaw, heehaw, he always says that’ quipped his farmyard mate. He may be right. Camino rhythm is drawing casualties. The breakfast spread prepared by super hospitalero  Andre (seated at the head) was sensational, though most were sleeping or shuffling packs. Slower start after a long first day.
Admittedly it was early - but there was climbing to do and rocks to hop.
Early starters walked up out of town to watch the sunrise.
The first climb brought a beautiful vista.

And shortly after- a sign that said ‘Stop’ - Who am I to disagree?  

It was pretty much downhill after that, hopping rocks and twirling walking poles.
An abandoned mill-house. Evocative of medieval times.
I do not see or hear much bird life around farms and villages. Hmmm, why is that? Not good, though at least they keep the rodents under control.
Ascending again, throw the poles over, off with the pack and climb through.
Followed by a narrow path shuffle. 
Different towns and communities take different care and interest in supporting pilgrims and promoting the Camino - fair enough- Spain is a decentralised place, for good reason.
I think I may have said goodbye to Enzo, from France. He’s carrying a tent, and collects all sorts of herbs,  fruits and edible flowers along the way. A good guy. You never say never though, on the Camino.
Amaising! The things you find hanging around farm sheds. Time to find a place to stay.
This gives the barebones. You cannot book ahead - you take your chance. I checked in. There were people I had met ahead of me and behind me. There was plenty of space. 
Each of us walk to a different rhythm. Some fast people from yesterday now have foot problems and are worrying about whether they can continue. The slower ones like me are happy to arrive. We share advice and try and support one another. And maybe go exploring. There is  a castle here.
Still l giggle when I see showered, laundered and ‘hospitalerised’ pilgrims in sandals and their ‘after 5’ wear,  walking slow, hobbling and limping through town looking for somewhere to have a drink and eat - during siesta! 

I laugh at myself a lot.