Quintanilha is already in Portugal, and you can feel it. This morning you set off from Alcañices, in Spain. Somewhere along the way you crossed the border, with no gatekeeper and no ceremony. Only your watch looks odd: in Portugal it is an hour earlier than in Spain.
The day is of average difficulty, with well over seven hours of walking. You climb gently and descend more than you ascend, and you’ll feel that later in your knees. It’s open country with little traffic. Mostly you hear your own footsteps. On the last stretch the hills spread out wide around you under a huge sky, with only the village you’re walking towards in the distance.