Central Spain at the height of summer is fierce, blinding, whitewashed and arid. Traversing the Pyrenees Mountains, which form a massive natural boundary between Spain into Southern France, we descended into a treasure trove of colour, seeded by picturesque little towns. Towns which would effortlessly grace the covers of travel magazines, towns whose beauty was elementary to comprehend, towns we’d previously never heard of. The first destination of note that day which I can remember by name was Carcassonne. As we rolled up late-afternoon to Camping de la Cité it was already over-capacity, so they stuck us out in an overflow field. A blessing, as it turns out, since we could spy the famous medieval castle of Carcassonne, with its two-and-half-thousand year history, from our tent flap. After setting up camp we were able to walk
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