October 8, 2022
- Route: Ribadeo to Lourenzá
- Distance: 26.8 kilometers (16.6 miles)
- Cumulative Distance: 675.3 kilometers
Today was the first day of ‘taking it easy.’ Rather than pushing myself to get to Santiago in five or six days’ time on my normal pace, I was giving myself a full week to walk the remainder of the Camino. For the next few days at least, I intended to keep my mileage down in the 23-26 kilometer range (or around 14-16 miler per day).
This easier pace meant I also could have a more leisurely morning and I didn’t need to head out in the dark morning like I’d been doing lately. Instead, I went out to find a cafe at 8 am where I could enjoy a large coffee and toast, and I didn’t begin hiking until half past eight.
Leaving Ribadeo, I set off in a new direction. I was walking southwest now, heading inland with my back to the Cantabrian Sea. Thus, the next two days would be spent climbing over the mountains that separated the coast from the interior of Galicia.
A MANGLED HAT
Clouds still lingered overhead as I walked out of town. It wasn’t actually supposed to rain today, but I’d come to learn to take the forecast with a grain of salt. Every day on (or near) the coast had been a gamble.
Yet my reason for wanting to avoid the rain this morning was new. It was all about my hat. I basically destroyed it overnight. I’d decided to take my clothes to a local laundromat while I was in town, and I forgot to pull my hat out of the load before I tossed everything into the dryer.
Even though I’d selected medium heat to dry my clothes, the commercial dryer at the laundromat must have been working working overtime. The heat level was more than enough to utterly destroy the front of my hat.
When I pulled it out of the dryer, the brim was completely warped, with the fabric pulling away from it in some parts and melted in other sections. Basically, it was no longer really wearable. So now I nothing to keep the rain or the sun off my face!
GALICIA
As I walked the first few kilometers through province of Galicia, tall stone pillars emerged at regular intervals with the remaining distance to Santiago engraved on little plaques mounted to them.
I remembered these pillars from my last Camino. They provided a constant reassurance that you were, in fact, getting closer to the end. All you had to do was watch as the numbers on each pillar drew closer to 0.
And much to my amusement, the distance to Santiago was measured out to the third decimal point! Because nothing says choose your own adventure like a marker indicating the distance to the closest meter (or 3.37 feet).
I effortlessly passed the first six pilgrims of the morning, all of whom are just wearing light daypacks and moving at a leisurely speed. I climbed into the foothills above Ribadeo, in awe of how good my body felt. I was so much stronger now than I was three weeks ago. My pack seemed as easy to carry now as those pilgrims’ daypacks.
However, one negative thing was still nagging at me. As strong as I felt, and as athletic as my legs have become, I still have a few extra pounds hanging around the midsection.
Normally any “extra luggage” I had starting out would melt off me on a long hike like this. But perhaps middle age is harder to contend with than I’d expected. Or maybe three weeks of eating napolitanas or croissants for breakfast wan’t the best weight management plan if you hoped to lose a few pounds along the way.
As I continued walking through small villages, I passed scallop shells on walls and houses pointing the way to Santiago. This was momentarily disorienting though because some of the shells seemed to be pointed in the wrong direction.
Then I remembered that I was no longer in Asturias, where the shell’s hinge (or flat bottom) pointed pilgrims in the direction they were supposed to travel. Here in Galicia, the shell was simply another symbol of the Camino. The direction of the nearby arrows is what I really needed to pay attention to.
SUPERDOG
Today’s route to Lourenzá was mostly filled with climbing uphill with wide sweeping views of the surrounding landscape.
Around 9:45 am, I spotted a man walking toward me who was clearly not a pilgrim. He was wearing a blaze orange vest and camouflage pants. At first I suspected he was some sort of hunter. His attire seemed to hint at that, and it was October. But then I noticed he had a hound dog on a super long orange lead rope.
He was directing the dog to head into the trees beside the road, and I watched as the hound did as asked with his nose to the ground. Then he called the dog back and sent him off in another direction. It looked like he was training the dog to track smells, while giving him a 10-meter long lead so the dog could wander into the woodline.
The dog, for his part, was dutifully going in and out of the woods sniffing. He returned to the road as we crossed paths, and that’s when I noticed he was wearing the type of dog harness you’d see on a K-9 working dog, and it had a name tape attached to the side that read, “superdog.”
Seeing that nickname on the dog’s vest put a smile on my face. I have no idea whether he’ll become a pro at whatever he was learning, but I liked the positive thinking! And I gave the trainer a silent wave as I passed so as not to distract the training.
IN SEARCH OF COFFEE
For the next hour I was mostly in my head as I passed by giant mushrooms growing along the side of the trail, and spotted some beekeepers boxes on a slope.
I was headed up one of the day’s bigger climbs about an hour later when I caught up to Sebastian. He was sitting on the grass beside the road and taking a break, and seemed to be hiking solo today.
I gave Sebastian a quick hello, but didn’t stop to rest beside him. My guidebook indicated there would be a small picnic area just ahead with a bench and a water fountain, and I wanted to make all the way there before I lost my uphill momentum.
The air was turning cold now, and a brisk wind was blowing the low gray clouds across the sky. Wisps of blue still peeked out in places, but I couldn’t deny it was definitely chillier now compare to when I started hiking this morning.
At the top of the climb, I stopped to take off my pack and eat an apple while I rested. One of the things I’m trying to do each day is to pack out some fruit or a vegetable (like carrots). I don’t have that luxury on most long-distance hikes because fresh food is heavy. But when you only have to carry one day’s worth of provisions, it becomes far more feasible.
I was just finishing up my last few bite of my apple when Sebastian appeared again. So we spend the next hour or two hiking together as the Camino continued into the mountains.
As we descended toward the tiny hamlet of Villamartin Pequeño (or Little Villamartin), I was craving a coffee like nothing else. But there weren’t any bars or cafes there, just a few farms and rural homes.
We’d need to wait until we got to Villamartin Grande (Big Villamartin), which was at the top of the next climb. I was sweating and working up my thirst as we pressed the pace to get up the hill, but when we arrived in the small town, we’re greeted by even more disappointment.
The sole albergue and bar In Villamartin Grande was closed today. A sign was taped to the door, printed in both Spanish and English, informing pilgrims the establishment closed ‘due to illness.’
Well that sucked! But I really hope it they aren’t sick with Covid or anything serious. One of the risks of running an albergue is the volume of pilgrims coming through with their germs each day. This substantially increases the business owner’s own risk of getting sick.
So, with no other choice, Sebastián and I trudged on. He distracted me from my coffee yearning by telling me about the art he likes to create, and told me about the several of the museums he visited on this European trip.
As we got closer to the next town, I noticed we’re catching and passing more pilgrims every few minutes. Either these folks were newcomers who were just building their stamina or they were really feeling the absence of caffeine this morning too.
I suspect it was the prior reason. Few pilgrims had the time or desire to walk an entire Camino route from start to finish. The bulk of people who walk the Camino only do the 100 kilometers required to get their compestela.
But there are also other pilgrims who just pick a random spot in the middle of one of the Camino routes that coincides with how much time they have to walk. On the Camino Frances, I met several people who’d arrived in León and they just started walking west from there because it was convenient.
I suspect Ribadeo might be a similar jumping off point for people on the Camino del Norte. It’s a reasonable distance from Santiago (190 kilometers), but more substantial than the bare minimum of 100 kilometers. And it’s also the beginning of Galicia, which creates as good of an imaginary boundary as an international border.
LOURENZÁ
It was nearly 1 pm before Sebastian and I approached the town of San Xusto. A few kilometers earlier, we’d caught up with a woman from New Zealand named Nicki (the second pilgrim I’d met with that same name in as many days).
The three of us native English speakers (an American, Canadian, and Australian) soon began chatting and ended up staying together for the rest of the way to town. Our conversation was interesting and varied enough, that when we got to San Xusto, we all decided to stop and share a table where we continue talking with some long-overdue coffee.
We were now barely four kilometers from Lourenzá, the town where we all had reservations for the night. So we had more than enough time to linger here and swap stories with each other as we got our caffeine fix.
After more than half an hour outside, the chill was setting in, so we all decided to get a move on. There was still one more climb to get over before Lourenza, and it looked as if it we might some rain at any moment.
The climb took us through another forest of eucalyptus trees. These trees seemed to grow everywhere around us now. Of course, the eucalyptus tree isn’t native to Spain. It was brought over to Europe by a Galician monk who returned from Australia with some of the trees seeds in the 19th century.
The species adapted well to the northern Spanish climate and now complete areas are nominated by eucalyptus. The coastal town of Viveiro (which was less than 50 kilometer away from us) lays claim to the largest eucalyptus trees in all of Europe, including one that was planted in 1880 that is 220 feet tall and has a circumference of 35 feet around!!
None of the eucalyptus trees on the way into Lourenzá were nearly a remarkable in stature. But there sure were plenty of them lining our route, with their long, slender leaves fluttering in the wind.
And then, we were in Lourenzá! Somewhere in the back of my mind, a nagging feeling was telling me I couldn’t be there yet. It was too early to stop for the day. I guess I just wasn’t used to this scaled back plan where I only walked 26 kilometers.
After checking into the albergue, I used my extra afternoon time to wander around the small town, taking in the sights. A Baroque church sat in the town square, under some sort of partial construction.
Then I sat next to with a medieval arched bridge watching the rushing water under it. I was mesmerized by sort of robust green grass waving from the bottom of the river bed and must have wasted 20 minutes just watching the water.
All told, it was an immensely relaxing afternoon., So I headed back to the albergue to unwind even more with some wine and a book I downloaded to my iPad.
