A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.
It was raining when I broke camp so the wet tent was a bit heavier, or so it seemed to me. I breakfasted and walked up to meet Juanjo who had stayed at the refugio at Biados. We set off in the drizzle.
I found it constantly surprising the quantities of wild flowers, orchids, scabious and here, large areas of iris, in spanish, lirio, which always makes me think of lyrical which seems to fit in a poetic sort of way.