11 evening. Today I cried for the beauty of the mountains.

I was whooping with pleasure and tearful most of the way down the glorious descent I just experienced.

I'n sure physics has gone wrong (or amazingly beautifully right) I'm sure I can't have done enough work to deserve this much easy flying round slidey corners with breathtaking views.

It just went on and on, half an hour it must have been, more; timeless.

More fantastic than any dream I've dreamt.

One of my favourite things about today was passing on winding narrow roads through mossy oak woodlands, dotted with rowan and wild rose, with a bed of bracken and brambles. Bit like Wales. Bit hotter.

I can't decide whether to sleep where I am, in a park in Mondragon(!) or carry on- it's still sunny and I'm not completely broken yet, but I want to sleep off the ground cos I got a bit dewy the last coule of nights and it's not very nice waking up wet. Takes longer to get going in the morning, too, when everything's soggy.