Friday, June 13, 1650
It is evening, as the sun sets, as I write this.
The west bound road continues in a generally westward direction, following the ridge over the Altmuhl Valley - which is to say that you cross many rivulets and streams, and that the road itself rolls up and down over spurs along the ridge, in a most taxing manner. The road itself is not a good one, and there are no road signs. The watercourses are too small to bar the way of the wagon, but at the same time there are no constructed bridges along the way. Every crossing is a ford, and many of them are knee-deep (and the water quite cold, despite the month - not icy, but you wouldn’t want to bathe in it). Finally, the road is full of potholes and in some places, the trees hang down and impede the carriage (a cart would go through fine, but the carriage is often too wide or too high).
You see no one else through the journey, though you travel for a day and a half.
The countryside is rough, unoccupied, but just this side of wilderland - in that there is a road, and the road is clearly travelled from time to time, as you find evidence of firepits and places where trees have been cut down with an axe. Thursday night you bed down by one of these firepits.
As the sun sets, you reach a much better road, which is cobbled and which is perpendicular to the road you are on. But what with the winding that you have experienced throughout the day, you cannot be sure if this road does go both north and south. The right, however, does appear to rise into the highlands to the north, while the south road descends into the main valley.
In the east, you see a full moon rise in the twilight, as the sun sets in the west.