Tuesday April 30, 2024
- Starting Point: Porto (km 0)
- Ending Point: Vila Do Conde (km 33.8)
- Distance Walked: 33.8 km (20.9 miles)
- Routes: Littoral & Coastal Ways
After meandering around Porto yesterday and keeping my body awake for 40 hours straight, you would have thought I’d have no issue finally sleeping when I tucked myself into bed. But you’d be wrong. I tried my best to get a full night’s rest, but my body was still recovering from the trip across 7 time zones yesterday. I must have woken up about once every hour, only to check my watch, and roll back over to start the routine again.
I got up for good this morning around 6 am, but I didn’t rush out to begin my Camino. I’d scouted out a nearby bakery yesterday afternoon, and I was determined that it would be my first breakfast in Portugal. They didn’t open until 7 am, though, so there was no point in going anywhere just yet.
It was a beautiful, sunny day yesterday, but the weather shifted dramatically overnight. It was now raining, and raining hard. I hoped this might be just an early morning coastal storm, and it would pass in an hour’s time. But the weather forecast and radar quickly dispelled that notion. The rain would last the better part of the day.
Thank goodness I’d decided to pack my heavier rain jacket, a pair of rain pants, and a rain cover for my backpack. I’d hemmed and hawed over this exact issue of rain gear back home while trying to pack as minimally as possible on this trek. But each time I considered pulling an item out, I recalled my experience on the Camino del Norte back in October 2022. I got nine consecutive days of rain on that Camino, and that memory persuaded me not to scrimp when it came to rain gear.
I arrived at the Portuguese bakery around 7:20 am, but I was overwhelmed by the experience. Locals kept coming and going rapidly, but very few of them were sitting down and eating at the handful of indoor tables. Instead, they seemed to order a coffee in rapid Portuguese, gulped it down at the bakery’s glass display case, and then depart as fast as they’d come in.
After watching this routine for several minutes, I felt like an 8-year-old kid playing double-dutch jump rope on the playground. I was trying to time the exact moment I would “go in” without getting hurt or delaying the game. Then, in a fantastic bit of luck, a small cafe table freed up. So I was able to grab a seat without navigating the scrum of locals stating their morning.
Nabbing an inside table took some of the pressure off the intimidating process of ordering, but I still didn’t get exactly what I’d intended. On my prior treks in Spain, I’d usually start my day with a café con leche (latte) coupled with a croissant, tostada (toast), or, when I was in a particularly rowdy mood, I might order a napolitana (which is akin to a pain au chocolat).
Looking across the bakery case, though, everything looked scrumptious. I eyeballed various croissants and pastries and decided to splurge. I ordered a chocolate croissant. I probably should have known I was in for a surprise, though, when the man behind the counter’s eyes widened. He pointed to the croissant as if to confirm I really wanted to order that??? I nodded yes, assuming our issue was the language barrier and my horrible Portuguese, not with my odd choice of breakfast.
When the plate arrived, my food looked delicious. The croissant was dusted with powdered sugar and small balls of chocolate, and I assumed it would also contain some small chunks of chocolate inside the flaky pastry dough. I sliced the end off with my knife and fork, only to discover the pastry was piped full of chocolate ganache filling. It was beyond decadent! This croissant was undoubtedly meant as a dessert, not light breakfast fare. So now I was fully hopped up on sugar – and one day closer to diabetes – when I returned to the rain to begin my Camino!
STARTING LINE
My starting point for the Camino Portugues was right back at the Sé do Porto – the main cathedral that I’d toured yesterday afternoon. Between the early morning hour and the rain this morning, the space was completely transformed from yesterday’s scene. No tourists were milling through the space. The rain had washed the cobblestones clean. And it was absolutely quiet. I had the entire plaza in front of the cathedral to myself.
The Pilgrim’s Office in Santiago de Compostela keeps statistics of which Camino routes pilgrims walk each year and where they begin. According to their records, the Camino Portugués is currently the second most popular route to Santiago, with the majority of those pilgrims beginning here in Porto. But it certainly didn’t feel like it this morning.
A concrete milestone maker sat across from the cathedral with the familiar blue and yellow scallop symbol. This marker felt like an unofficial starting line of sorts. So I stopped to take a photo with it before taking my first steps toward Santiago. Only 271.3 km left to walk!
One of the reasons the Camino Portugués is such a popular route is because of its more manageable distance. Some of the other routes are 800-1,000 kilometers long, but this one only requires walking 260-270 kilometers (170 miles) between Porto and Santiago. That’s 100% attainable for most pilgrims taking a short, two-week vacation to walk the Camino.
Another reason this route is so popular is because it’s more of a “choose-your-own-adventure” kind of Camino. There isn’t a singular route north. The Ruta Principal (main route) sticks inland, heading north from Porto to the border crossing into Spain near Tui before continuing on to Santiago. A second popular route is the Caminho Portugués da Costa (or coastal route), which follows the Atlantic coastline north to Vigo (Spain) before heading inland to merge with the main route at Redondela. Pilgrims can also cross back and forth between several points on these two routes, and there are a few additional offshoots, like the Littoral Route and Spiritual Variant.
The Littoral Route
My plan for this Camino was to stick to the coast as much as possible. That meant I’d begin by following the yellow arrows through a labyrinth of streets in Porto down to the shore of the Douro River.
The Douro is the largest river on the Iberian Peninsula (in terms of output), and it provides a fertile place for the Portuguese to grow olives, almonds, and grapes. In this urban area along the river, though, it seemed to be populated mainly by boats ferrying tourists on day trips from Porto to the Upper Douro River valleys.
Once at the river’s northern bank, I was now officially following the Ruta Litoral (or Littoral Way). I vaguely remembered from my international law classes that a “littoral zone” refers to the area where a river, lake, or sea meets the shoreline. And this route followed the littoral zone west to the Atlantic Ocean before turning north for even more shoreline.
The first few kilometers of the Camino felt somewhat slick in the rain. Sometimes I was walking on wet sidewalks. However, at other times, I was required to walk on a metal grate path beside a roadway that was elevated above the water’s edge.
As I walked west on the edge of Porto, the rain seemed to play games with me. It would vary between a solid downpour and light sprinkles or even minutes of complete dryness. Yet as soon as I started to entertain the idea that I might be able to strip off my rain pants, the rain would return with a vengeance. It had a distinctly PNW vibe. But at least the temperature was cool enough out that I wasn’t sweating buckets inside my heavy rain gear.
I didn’t see any other pilgrims or people walking with packs for the first 5 km along the river. But once I made it to the Farolim de Felgeiras lighthouse, where the river’s mouth met the Atlantic Ocean, a handful of peregrinos seemed to magically appear with their ponchos and rain-covered packs.
As soon as I turned north along the Atlantic, the Camino moved through long, linear parks with tall palm trees lining the route. The area reminded me of South Florida or the Caribbean. And it’s easy to see the Portuguese influence on the New World – from the red-tiled roofs and brightly colored buildings to the overall aesthetic and feel.
I also quickly deduced that the Portuguese word for ‘beach’ is praia, as I passed Praia do Carniero, Praia Ingress, Praia da Luz, Praia de Gondarem, Praia do Molhe, and so on. These weren’t the white, sandy beaches filled with surfers or sunbathers, though. They were mostly small crescents of beach punctuated by rocky coastline pounded by rain.
An old stone fort came into sight once I made my way toward the outskirts of the city. Nearby signs informed me that it was named Forte de São Francisco Xavier and built in 1661. It immediately reminded me of the 17th-century Spanish forts I’d visited in my hemisphere, such as Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, Florida.
HEADING NORTH
After the fort, the Camino continued to follow the ocean north to the suburb of Matosinhos, which had a cruise ship, passenger terminal, and a long breakwater dominating the harbor. The littoral route would need to make a detour around these obstacles, and signs for the Camino sent me inland toward a wide pedestrian bridge spanning the Rio Leça.
While turning inland for this urban detour, I spotted a modern-looking cafe and ducked inside and away from the rain to take my first break of the day. This was also where I learned the proper way to order a latte in Portuguese. The drink is called a maia de leite in Portugal, which translates literally into a “half of milk” (while the other half of your cup is filled with espresso).
Although I’m glad I’ve finally figured out this aspect of coffee etiquette, I must admit I’m not overly impressed with Portuguese coffee. It seemed weaker or milder in taste than I prefer. So maybe I’ll stick to um café (an espresso) or um café duplo (double espresso) instead for the next few days until I get back to Spain.
On my way back toward the waterfront, I also stopped at a local fish market to check out the morning catch. Portugal’s long coastline means it has a big fishing and seafood culture. Much like Galicia to my north, I was likely to see fish on the menu del dia in every town I stopped in.
When I returned to walking the Littoral Way, I could see the tall silhouette of a black and white-striped lighthouse tower up ahead. Farol de Leça (or Leça Lighthouse) began operations in 1926 and was later augmented with an elevator to the 150-foot-tall shaft, providing access to the light.
There was a lighthouse museum adjacent to the structure, and I silently wished to myself that I had more than 9 days on this Camino. I’d love to linger and explore these minor spots along the route. One of my favorite memories from my 2021 thru-hike on the 400-mile Oregon Coast Trail was visiting the numerous lighthouses along my route.
I may need to return with a partner to walk this short Camino again someday. I can easily see how this walk could be turned into a slow, lingering stroll from lighthouse to lighthouse. There’s already so much to see, and I’m barely into the first day of walking.
As the day continued, the miles were coming quite easily. This Camino was virtually flat. It was nothing compared to the inaugural days of my last two Caminos. There was no hike over the Pyrenees, nor a trek up into the Jaizkibel Mountains of the Basque Country to endure. This route was simple and smooth.
Ahead, the path eventually transitioned to a boardwalk that paralleled the ocean. The rain continued throughout the late morning and into the early afternoon. Meanwhile, I was passing pilgrims of various European nationalities walking in the same direction. Most of them were in their 60s, which made sense. Today was the last day of April. The younger crowd was still in school or working, not walking toward Santiago.
One of my favorite sights during this first day on the Camino Portugués was a church perched out on the rocks above the waves. I can imagine all the couples who would love to get married in a setting like this. Even on a rainy, gloomy day like today, it was utterly picturesque and just had a special feel about it.
Near the 19 km mark for the day, I encountered another notable sight, with a tall obelisk towering beside the beach. The boardwalk encircled the memorial marking the spot where King Pedro IV and 7,500 troops disembarked on the beach in July 1832 before heading into Porto and ending the absolutist regime.
The monument wasn’t completed until 30 years later. But that meant it had been standing there, withstanding the ocean elements beating against it since roughly the time of the American Civil War!
I was now more than halfway through my day, and mostly kept my head down as the rain pelted me for the next few hours of walking on the wooden boardwalk. Occasionally, the weather would break, teasing me as if the sun might come out, but it remained hidden as I trod north, kilometer after kilometer.
Another delightful sight during this stretch was when the Camino ascended to the water’s edge and crossed over a small rocky hill. I was surprised to see not only some blooming springtime flowers, but also cactus along the coast. We usually assume cacti only grow in the desert, not beside the ocean. However, cactus thrive in warm, temperate, Mediterranean climates. I saw similar flora during my trek across Catalina Island off the California Coast in early 2020.
Wrapping up the day
By 1 pm, my stomach was grumbling, and I was ready for lunch. I’ve passed a handful of cafes thus far, but wasn’t sure what cuisine I might find out here for lunchtime fare. When the trail passed by another picturesque chapel near the water’s edge, I wished I’d had the forethought to go to a grocery store in Porto to buy some food. Would have loved to stop to eat a picnicu lunch here by this little church.
By the time I rolled into the small town of Mindelo, I knew I needed to stop and get something to eat. I’d walked 28.7 kms (17.2 miles) and I was ready to gnaw my arm off from the hunger. So I selected one of the three possible places to eat and ordered the bacalhau (salt cod) and batatas fritas (fries) for my first lunch on the Camino.
The meal wasn’t exactly British-style fish and chips, even though the ingredients were essentially the same. The cod wasn’t de-boned — something I only discovered after putting a large bite into my mouth and having to discreetly spit the entire thing out into my napkin before I choked. I know this dish is a local specialty, but it wasn’t really my thing. Maybe I should have asked for some tartar sauce.
Despite my disappointment with the fish, at least I’d stuck to my resolution to try new foods on this Camino! And something else I noticed both yesterday and today is that the Portuguese are very generous with their pours of wine. I only ordered a single glass with my lunch, and the server filled the wine glass nearly up to the rim! So I had no problem washing my meal down!
During lunch, I examined the map of what lay ahead for the rest of the day. There were plenty of places to stop for the night. However, I ultimately decided to stop in Vila do Conde. I knew better than to walk more than 33.8 km (nearly 21 miles) on the first day of this adventure. It didn’t matter how flat the terrain was or whether I was making good time. That distance was far enough if I hoped to avoid blisters or overuse injuries down the road.
I emerged from the restaurant after lunch, and was pleased to find blue skies and sunshine dominated the sky. The rain storm finally seemed to move out. I’d have lovely afternoon weather for the remainder of my way to Vila do Conde.
Unfortunately, the walking wasn’t as easy as it had been earlier in the day. The boardwalk disappeared for a one-kilometer stretch, and I found myself literally trudging along a sandy path atop the dunes, regretting that I left my gaiters at home for this Camino. The sand entering my shoes and coating my wet socks was frustrating me to no end.
Despite the sand, I made it to the outskirts of the town intact and blister-free. Banners on the bridge into Vila do Conde told me I’d just missed the town’s anniversary celebration the prior weekend. What a bummer that was! One of my favorite things about walking the Camino during autumn was stumbling upon all the festivals celebrating the wine harvest, apple harvest, or some other random event. However, it looks like spring is also filled with some festivals!
Once I found my lodging for the evening, I kicked off my trail runners, and I felt good about the day. I’d survived hours upon hours of the rain and a pretty long day of walking. Tomorrow would bring more adverse weather, but it didn’t seem to faze my outlook in the least. I was just happy to be back on the Camino and looking forward to what the next stage would bring!
By the time I headed to bed, I also had a growing list of new foods that I could boast I’d tried this trip, including:
- Balcalhau (salt cod)
- Queijo flamengo (a Portuguese cheese)
- Bandida do Pomar (a brand of Portuguese hard cider)
All in all, I was thoroughly enjoying the Camino Portugués. It was very different than my other Camino experiences, but in a good way. The scenery has been enjoyable, and all the Portuguese people I’ve encountered have been so warm and lovely. It’s been a very bom caminho.
