October 7, 2022
- Route: Navia to Ribadeo
- Distance: 32.2 kilometers (20 miles) + a few extra kilometers on the coast
- Cumulative Distance: 648.5 kilometers
DIscovering my fellow pilgrims made it to Navia was a truly wonderful surprise last night. I wasn’t sure if I’d cross paths with any of them again, now here we were together.
And so the four of us (Joe, Sebastian, and Nicki, and I) went out to dinner together in town – enjoying the more social aspect of the Camino – laughing, eating, and swapping stories about the day.
During my the last few days, I’ve noticed there’s a completely different feel to the Camino. A number of the pilgrims left to walk the Camino Primativo, and now there are far fewer pilgrims around. But it also feels as if I’m moving in a bubble with the same people now. So I see faces I recognize over and over again, and I feel like I’m part of a community.
I’ve also experienced a gradual mindset shift that’s hard to explain. I’m just genuinely happy to be out here walking the Camino. My body seems stronger. My feet are in better condition than they’ve been this entire trip. And my mind seems more resilient.
I feel like this adventure on the Camino del Norte is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing right now. I’ve come to accept that steep hills and bad weather happen, and they aren’t going to negatively impact my journey. This is where I’m meant to be.
ANOTHER EARLY MORNING
This spring in my step meant I was up early and departing the albergue before sunrise. I crossed over the inky black mouth of the Navia River before walking back into the abyss.
This early hour meant I had to walk with my headlamp on for nearly 45 minutes while the beam of light projected ahead of me glistening off the wet grass (from the overnight rain) like a field of loose diamonds. But it at least it was a warm morning and dry now, which I was immensely grateful for.
When it was finally bright enough to tuck my headlamp away for good, my surroundings were shrouded in clouds setting low over the hills around me. I wouldn’t see any sunrise today for sure in this low dome of gray. Nonetheless, I was grateful that it was mostly easy walking beside the cornfields and cow pastures.
Aurelio, the proprietor of the albergue where I stayed in last night, gave me a preview of what lay head for the rest of the Camino. He said today’s journey would be easy and mostly flat – at least by Camino del Norte standards.
However, he did warn that about 16 kilometers into the day, just past the Río Portia, the Camino would divide into two routes. The primary path go left and stay inland, while an alternate veered to the right went out to the coast for one last time.
I felt compelled to take the coastal path, even though I knew it would add several additional kilometers onto my day, because today would be the last day for me to see the ocean. Once I got to Ribadeo, the Camino would turn inland for good and head southwest toward Santiago. There would be no more ocean views on the final 190 kilometers.
Just before I arrived at this critical trail junction though, my attention was stolen by something else completely unexpected. Just off the Camino path, there were small goats standing in the trees!!
A pair of pygmy goats was perched six feet off the ground, standing on the branches of a tree, and eating its leaves. What a crazy, unusual, amazing spectacle! You definitely don’t see that every day!
ONE MORE ALTERNATE
Once I got to the trail’s junction, I followed the route toward the coastal town of Tapia de Casariego. There was a couple of early bird hiker ahead of me and I continued yesterday’s game of trying to catch and then pass them.
As I got closer, I realized they were wearing external frame packs that appeared loaded to the hilt. I’m not sure I’ve seen an external frame pack on any pilgrims out here. This couple was the exact opposite of Sebastian who was surviving out of a tiny 22-liter daypack for his Camino!
Then it was back to quiet countryside as this alternate route wove through several farms, and past more muddy cornfields and cows. Clouds hung in the air above me, but it never did rain. It was just another drab overcast day in northern Spain.
As I got closer to the coast, it was if I could feel its presence. A cool breeze was in the air now, and I could smell that familiar, briny smell before I even saw or heard ocean.
I finally got my first glimpse of the sea right on the outskirts of Tapia de Casariego, and it had an eerie feeling. Fog blanketed the coastline and the rocks reminding me of a spooky backdrop of a horror film.
I stopped in town for a coffee and pastry to replenish my energy, and in that brief half hour I was indoors, the sun emerged and seemed to burn off most of the clouds and changed the landscape entirely. I could see the blue in the sky once again and everything suddenly felt buoyant and light.
The next beach I passed was so much clearer. Surfers and swimmers were down in the water enjoying the the warm autumn day. Man, this detour out to the coast was definitely worth the extra effort, in my opinion. The views were now fantastic!
THE COAST
This next stretch of the Camino felt a bit magical. I followed the edge of the coastline out of town, where numerous stone stairways and ramps led down to rocky cliffs just above the deep water.
I suspect the stairs were built as access points for fisherman or open water swimmers, and I let my curiosity lead the way. I followed one of them down the hillside toward the water’s edge. Below me, the water looked so turquoise and inviting.
At the bottom of this particular stairway, the rocks cleaved in half with a wide gap you could fall into. Waves crashed in between the rocks, constantly reminding me that I needed to watch my footing here. I wasn’t planning on actually going into the ocean. I just wanted to look.
After enjoying the views and sunshine, I climbed back up to the top of the cliff to join back up with the E-9 (European Coast Path) once again, marked with its familiar red and white stripes painted on fence posts.
I could have followed the back inland here through bare, recently harvested farm fields. But I that seemed to be a waste. I wanted to visit the rugged and hidden beaches instead. So I charted my own path along the coast, connecting beaches and headlands and hoping I wasn’t trespassing in the process.
For the next two hours, I walked along the coast or as close to it as I could get. Sometime I was on cliffs high above the water, whereas other times I dropped down to the sand itself and walked to the water’s edge.
This diversion was definitely going to add an extra coupe of kilometers to the day, but I didn’t care. I was playa (beach) hopping, visiting Playa de la Paloma, Playa de Serantes, Playa de Mexota, Playa de Santa Gadea, Playa de Penarronda, Punta de la Cruz, and Playa de Arnao.
I intended to walk every last one, saying goodbye to to the Cantabrian Sea until I got to the long concrete bridge that would take me into Ribadeo.
That’s ONE SCARY BRIDGE
At the end of my self-created route, I reached the long span of the Puente de Los Santos (or Bridge of the Gods) as it crossed the river into Ribadeo. This bridge linked the western edge of Asturias to my final province in Spain — Galacia.
The bridge was not for the faint of heart though. It was the longest bridge I’d walk across on this entire journey, spanning 612 meters over the Ribadeo estuary and rising several stories above the water.
The center of the bridge was dominated by the A-8 Autovia, with three lanes moving in each direction. A narrow pedestrian lane was perched on the outer edge of the Autovia bridge with an ordinary (and, in my mind, wholly inadequate) rail separating walkers from the massive drop down to the water below.
I’m not particularly fond of heights, and so it took 100% of my concentration to focus on the path in front of me during the eight or nine minutes it took me cross on foot.
As I walked forward with each step, I kept my eyes glued to the upcoming 10-15 feet of sidewalk directly in front of me. If I dared to let my eyes wander to the water off to my left or down below, I worried a massive case of vertigo might descend on me and I’d lose my ability to keep walking.
All told, it was completely nerve wrecking to get across that bridge. But at least it wasn’t windy. Or rainy. Or both! I was so grateful when my feet finally hit solid ground again, and I was now in the province of Galicia!
THE BEST MEAL
As I walked into Ribadeo and my nerves finally settled from the bridge crossing, I realized I was famished. I hadn’t eaten much today and my ocean detour took much longer than expected.
It was already 3:30 pm, and all restaurants were preparing to close until the 8 pm dinner hour. If I didn’t get something to eat ASAP, I might have to wait another five hours to fill my hungry belly!
I scanned the open restaurants lining the narrow streets, and then an unusual menu caught my eye. One of the restaurants was advertising a vegetarian menu del dia. Now that was something I hadn’t seen before. I was definitely stopping there.
The restaurant was named Kalpa Amodiño and their menu del dia was an Indian-Spanish inspired thali platter with lentils, rice, an egg dish, and homemade delicious naan with a blueberry chutney. It was THE best meal since I’ve arrived in Spain, hands down!
While I devoured the food, I sent a few texts back home, letting everyone know I finally made it to Ribadeo. I’d kept a pretty steady pace this far. I’d walked nearly 650 kilometers (or 400 miles!) in just about three weeks’ time. That was a bit slower than my last Camino, but this route was so much harder – both physically and mentally – than the Camino Frances had been.
As I looked at the route through Galicia that still lay ahead of me, I decided I wanted to slow down just a bit. Rather than pressing through these final 190 kilometers at my current pace and reaching Santiago in six more days, I was going to give myself seven days’ time — just savor this journey.
I also decided I wasn’t to walk going beyond Santiago this time around. On my Camino in 2018, I felt so disillusioned by the chaos of Santiago that I wasn’t emotionally ready to stop walking. I needed the calm and peacefulness that the Camino Finisterre would bring while taking me out to the ocean.
Yet this time around, I didn’t feel as if I needed to walk further. I’d seen the ocean for much of my journey on the Camino de Norte. I don’t need to walk to Fisterra or Muxia to get that calming experience.
I’d much rather spend any additional days in Madrid before my flight back home. Having walked though the Basque Country and seeing Guernica, I’d love to go to the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid to see Picasso’s original painting instead. I think it’s a more fitting end to the Camino del Norte.
