The Duero river rises just below Urbion Peak at Fuentes del Duero. Here its volume is small. It is like a child, playful, gurgling, regaling us with reflections of gold. Later the clear water will change colour and form. It still has a long way to run. Almost 600Km through Castile-Leon, 100 along the border and 200 inside Portugal. For rivers, as Unamuno wrote, have faces and lives of their won. A river's vein of water is like consciousness for us, now rough and foaming, now full of mud, cloudy, opaque, now clear and crystalline, babbling here and there. Where there is water, the landscape is alive. The river's water is a living consciousness. One can feel rivers live.