In Castilblanco, I stayed in the five star Castillo Blanco Hotel.  I know that this smacks of Camino lite, but it was the only option and a mere €25 for the peregrino.  Breakfast this morning consisted of a mountain of tostadas and all the coffee you can shake a stick at.  As I was getting in the carbs, I watched the television news. I got my first whiff of Tartessos.  It was being presented, in turn, by two goddesses Pilar and Maribel.  Pilar was blond with piercing blue eyes while, Maribel was drifting towards the strawberry blonde, with bottomless green eyes.  Pilar was speaking while Maribel stared in admiration.  Maribel’s body language was saying – Pilar you are so well informed about world events – but, in my opinion, her eyes were running naked through Pilar’s golden tresses screaming Celtic goddess.  I was tempted to wait and see if Pilar would return the compliment to Maribel but that Pilar, goddess she may be, she does love to hog the camera.

I left the goddesses to sort out the ways of the world. I had to make an early start, 30 kilometres,  mostly on road, but the final section through a very beautiful Parque Natural. My first port of call was to a small archaeological  site with, thought to  be, Tartessian aspirations.  This was strongly recommended to me as a ‘ must see’ by my landlady of two days ago in Guillena, Carmen.  Carmen really bought the Tartessian theory.  She said that the Andalusians felt more akin to the Celts than they did to some of  the other peoples in Spain,  especially looking north east.

The site was as disappointing as a pile of rocks can be, but I felt that, between the goddesses and Carmen, I was getting a sniff of Tartessos.  When I got back to the Camino, I met Herman.  Herman is a Belgian who is walking with his father Franc.  Franc is seventy-five years old but looks about fifty.  Nevertheless, he very wisely decided,  to take a taxi to the gates of the Parque Natural and walk the last 15 kilometres.  Herman and I were walking and talking when the taxi came back.  The driver explained that the Parque Natural was closed for hunting season and rather than having the father, Franc, hunted down like a dog in the Parque Natural, he had left him on the main road to walk safely into to town.  Ok, he didn’t use those words but I could read it in his eyes – dark brown, incidentally, not a whisper of Celtic goddess.  More from Tartessos later. In the meantime, I will continue to post photos on my Facebook page which should roughly correspond with the blog.