Wednesday May 1, 2024
- Starting Point: Vila Do Conde (km 33.8)
- Ending Point: Anha (km 78.4)
- Distance Walked: 44.6 km (27.65 miles)
- Route: Coastal Route
After a pretty ambitious start to the Camino Portugués yesterday, I had nearly 34 km under my belt. My jet lag was still lingering as I headed down to the hotel’s breakfast buffet at 7 am, but I was excited by the generous spread of food that greeted me. Meanwhile, a half dozen of my fellow pilgrims sat eating in contemplative silence – either about the journey ahead of us or perhaps the weather forecast.
It wasn’t raining when I stepped foot out the door, but the streets were still wet from all the storms that rolled through during the evening. I knew enough to keep my rain gear and pack cover on the ready, though. A bit of rain was due to hit the Portuguese Coast today until around 3 pm. Getting wet was almost certain.
When I exited the hotel and walked through the cobblestone streets heading back toward the beach, an unexpectedly delightful sight greeted me. Five peacocks were loose and wandering through the quiet streets as if Vila do Conde was their own personal nature preserve.
Moody Morning
I barely made it to Póvoa de Varzim around 8 am when BB-sized hail began to fall from the sky, followed by a deluge of rain. It was coming down with such force that I had to seek cover in a doorway just to stay semi-dry while putting on my rain pants and the rain cover on my backpack. The torrents were exacerbated by the wind whipping in from the Atlantic Ocean. Jeez, this was something.
At least I wasn’t too cold with these extra layers or waterproof material blocking the elements, and the storm seemed to push east after just 15 or 20 minutes. But the dark clouds overhead warned me not to take my rain pants off. There was more rain en route. It was spring on the Portuguese coast, which meant anything could be in store for me.
The rain stopped and started in similar fits throughout the morning. The clouds looked moody and dramatic as I followed the coastline north past beaches that were empty but for a few fishermen clad in bright orange here or there.
At the end of a parking lot, the wooden boardwalk returned, and this surface would be my constant companion for much of the next 15 km. I didn’t mind though. The wooden path made for soft, easy walking, and the seaside sights were interesting enough that time went by quickly.
Perhaps my favorite sight was an interesting 2-story stone tower perched atop the dunes. I didn’t appear to be a lookout tower, though. The windows faced inland, so I’m not entirely sure what purpose they served, but the tower looked old.
Our Lady of Fatima
I’d passed several pilgrims during the morning before we temporarily bid goodbye to the ocean and detoured inland around a golf course. As the boardwalk continued north, I began to second-guess myself. Several people wearing backpacks were walking toward me, and I began to wonder why. Was there a dead-end up ahead that I didn’t know about? Would I find myself backtracking soon, too?
I checked my map. Everything seemed to be fine. So I stopped one of the southbound pilgrims to ask if this was still the way. She confirmed I was still heading toward Santiago, but she wasn’t. She was following the Caminho de Fatima, which is a pilgrimage route that runs south from Santiago de Compostela down to the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Fatima – a shrine located in Ourém, Portugal.
That explained the pilgrims heading toward me. I’d seen the yellow arrows along this route pointing the way north toward Santiago, and often there would also be a blue arrow (the waymarker for Caminho de Fatima) pointing in the opposite direction. One such arrow even had Fatima written above it, but I didn’t know it was another pilgrimage route when I saw it. I thought it was graffiti or directions to a nearby location.
After crossing a small river, the boardwalk finally ended, and I was deposited onto a rural lane that headed north through eucalyptus trees. The fragrant scent of the leaves and the birds chirping was a welcome change from the sea and the wind.
But it wasn’t until I got to the town of Apúlia, Portugal, that I really felt like I was on the Camino again. The white stucco church in this quiet town reminded me of my prior walks through Spain more than anything else I’d seen thus far. It just had that familiar feeling of the Camino that’s hard to put into words.
It felt as if I was the only person walking through the town on this Wednesday morning. But the tranquility of it filled my heart. Neither Porto nor Vilo de Conde were small enough to allow me to feel like anything but a tourist or vacationer, and I hope tonight’s stay at an albergue run by a former pilgrim keeps me in this little Camino bubble.
Northern portugal
Some of my favorite sights of the day came to me as I continued north from Apúlia. The first of these was some lemon trees with the largest lemons I’ve ever seen. These vibrant, large orbs were more like grapefruit than the lemons I’m used to buying in my grocery store!
Then I meandered into and through the Litoral Norte National Park. The sun tried to make an appearance during this stretch of late morning, but it was only a brief visitor before heavy rain returned again.
Around 11:30 am, I made my way into the town of Fão and toward the south side of the wide Cávado River. The Camino returned to urban sidewalks and then sent me toward a bridge that nearly scared the daylights out of me.
I could see that the bridge was currently under construction. One sidewalk was blocked off entirely, so I made my way over to the open sidewalk and followed another pilgrim onto the metal pedestrian path on the edge of the bridge.
The narrow decking underfoot had clearly seen better days, and there were small areas that seemed to be rusting through, which only made me more and more wary with every step. Cars whizzed past me and I couldn’t wait to get off the bridge.
The experience became even scarier, though, after heading over a small island in the middle of the river. The local road construction crew had created a narrow temporary sidewalk extending OFF the bridge (!!!) and onto something akin to scaffolding.
A white tarp was draped over the bridge construction to my left, leaving me with zero buffer on that side. There was plywood laid on this scary walkway, which was now wet and slick from the rain, and the thin material seemed to bounce like a springboard with every step. Plus, the only thing separating me from falling off the abrupt edge toward the river was some narrow gauge fencing. This slim temporary pathway was the only way forward across the remainder of the river, and I could feel a sense of vertigo starting to descend over me with each step.
The sole thing that kept me putting one foot in front of the other as I crossed this section of the bridge was knowing that the pilgrim just ahead of me was still moving forward safely.
But then the unthinkable happened. I felt the bridge start to shake and bounce. It wasn’t from the cars going over the bridge, though. A runner was coming up behind me, and he seemed to think this narrow, wet, cantilevered plywood walkway was a perfectly normal place to pass someone who was on the verge of freaking out.
When I finally made it to the end of this crossing, I was never so happy to bid goodbye to a bridge. Everything about the experience made me truly uncomfortable!
AMBITIOUS GOALS
Once on the far bank of the Cávado River, the Camino turned toward the coast and the town of Esposende. I was now 20km into my day, and this vibrant coastal town was where most of the pilgrims seemed to be stopping, either for lunch or the day.
Esposende was filled with lots of restaurants, and I knew it would be too easy to get sucked into stopping there for the afternoon, too. So instead of walking directly through it, I clung to the boardwalk west of town, pushing onward past some fantastic wetland views out to the lighthouse and an old fort on the mouth of the river.
When I was planning my Camino, I’d given myself 9 days to get from Porto to Santiago. This meant I’d be fine as long as I was able to average 30 kilometers a day. I was already slightly ahead of the game after walking 34 kilometers yesterday, and the closest town to help me reach my mileage goal today was Marinhas (at km 62.6).
Nonetheless, I felt 100% capable of walking further than 30 kilometers on this super flat terrain. Last night I started looking into the towns further north – Antas, Castelo do Neiva, Chafe. Perhaps one of these might have been an ideal place to stop, but nowhere seemed to have lodging vacancies until the town of Anha.
On a whim, I sent an email to a really nice-looking private albergue in Anha last night. Casa da Carolina still had a bed available. But there was one downside… I would have to walk 44 kilometers today to get there. That’s 27.6 miles! On day 2 of my Camino trek!
Despite the absurdity of this goal, I went ahead and made the reservation anyway. I told myself I would just see how it went. If I couldn’t walk that far, I’d stop in Marinhas and then call the albergue to cancel the reservation. However, if I could make it, maybe that meant it was possible to walk this Camino in just 8 days. And the challenge of making this a “fast” Camino spurred me to give it a try.
PUSHING ON
When I walked into Marinhas just minutes before 1 pm, I knew I’d made a good choice to push on. My feet still felt good. And this was waaay too early to stop for the day. But did I still have 16 km (~10 miles) of energy left?? That was the real question.
A hard deluge of rain encouraged me to duck into a bar in Marinhas and take a short lunch break to contemplate the question.
The bar was empty, except for a handful of Portuguese men having a loud, agitated discussion, during which they often talked over each other. Since I don’t speak Portuguese, I can’t say with 100% certainty what they were talking about. However, I know people here don’t generally get that over-the-top in conversation except for when it comes to two topics: politics or futbol.
I did my best to move past their excited discussion and to the bar, but I had to practically shout over them to give the bartender my order. Today’s lunch would be a cheese sandwich and a glass of the local beer (Super Bock) – which I was currently counting as my new food for the day. It isn’t as fancy as the bacalhau (salt cod) I ate for lunch yesterday, but at least I was keeping my promise to try something new every day of this Camino.
After my break, I set out from Marinhas feeling fully committed. I was going to make it all the way to Anhas this afternoon, no matter what it took! Casa de Carolina or bust!
As I reached the church on the edge of town, I stopped in to admire it. Many of the churches here in Portugal look quite architecturally distinct. We often refer to this style as “Spanish” back home in the US. But honestly, I feel the style of the historical buildings and missions I grew up around on the West Coast looked Portuguese as much as Spanish.
The interior of the church had stucco and stone arches in the worship area, a gleaming wood-and-beam roof, black iron chandeliers, and an ornate gold sanctuary behind the altar. But it was the vibrant colors in the round stained-glass window that really pulled me in.
The heat is on
The afternoon amounted to constantly changing surfaces underfoot: cobblestone roads, gravel lanes in the countryside, and quite a bit of proper (albeit muddy) trail. The ocean and boardwalks were no longer my constant companion as the trail crept inland and gained some elevation.
A signpost beside the trail in Rio de Monhos caught my attention because it had about a dozen wooden arrows pointing in various directions. Each arrow indicated a major town or starting point on one of the other Camino routes, along with its corresponding distance.
Santiago was only 208 km away, at least according to this hand-lettered sign. But, more interesting was that I recognized the bulk of those towns, having walked through them on my prior two Caminos. There was Esposende, Leon, Oviedo, Ribadeao, Fisterra… And I could picture each one in my mind.
Around 3 pm, I encountered another notable bridge that I needed to cross. This one wasn’t nearly as scary as the bridge back in Fão, though. It merely required a long walk over some giant concrete blocks built across the river like a dam.
As I climbed up and down some muddy trails, the rain finally seemed to quit for the day, and the warm sun emerged overhead in the sky. The sweltering humidity reminded me of the American South now, and it made the climb up another giant church near Castelo do Neiva a real chore.
Built in 862 AD, this is the oldest church dedicated to St. James (Santiago) outside of Spain. And a pilgrim statue stood out front seeming to welcome me to the summit.
The heat of the day was now zapping my energy, and my muscles were feeling the fatigue of the high mileage day. I wasn’t the only pilgrim who seemed to be waning under the brutal sun, though. Two cyclists came up behind me, but they’d had to dismount their bikes to make it up the final portion of the climb to the church. Two more pilgrims sat near the columbarium wall beyond the church, resting in the shade.
All of us seemed to be struggling in the afternoon heat, and we collectively chugged water before headed back into the forest toward our destination. I was at 37 kms now, but still had 7 km (roughly 4.3 miles) left to walk to Anha. It was going to take some real mental toughness to finish out this day.
A physical fatigue followed me back into the forest, where I was met with more muddy trail and pools of standing water obscuring the route. I carefully picked my way around the edges of each puddle in an effort to stay dry and clean. So, I was amused when the two cyclists from earlier passed by me on the trail. Their legs were streaked with mud, and their colorful jerseys were now splattered like a Jackson Pollock painting. Clearly, they weren’t as half as concerned with staying clean.
After cresting a hill, the Camino returned to pavement once again near the Mosteiro de São Romão (Monastery of St. Roman). More pilgrims sat in the shade of large trees, resting from the late-afternoon sun and humidity. Today was just barely the first day of May! I can only imagine how swelteringly hot this route must feel for pilgrims who walk it in the summer months.
I walked on right past the monastery, knowing better than to sit down, even for a few minutes. I might not want to get back up if I sat to rest under the shade trees. I had momentum on my side. And I was grateful that I still hadn’t developed any blisters thus far, despite my big miles over the past two days.
I was chalking my feet’s good fortune up to the lighter-than-normal load on my back. I put a lot of thought into my packing list for this Camino. I’d excised a lot of gear that I brought on my prior two Camino treks. And this lighter load undoubtedly had a positive impact on me, despite high mileage, wet socks, and walking through sand and mud over the past two days.
Casa da Carolina
I didn’t arrive at Casa da Carolina until right around 5 pm. It had been a very, very long day, and the lovely albergue was a sight for sore eyes. More than anything, I was simply proud of myself for walking a 44-km day without whining (to myself) or quitting! That was pretty dang impressive in my book.
Nearly a dozen other pilgrims were sitting around the albergue, talking and relaxing. My group this evening included several Swiss and German pilgrims, two more from France, one Italian, one Lithuanian, and two Poles. I was the only American joining the group. Still, the collective language between us all seemed to be English, and it was nice to be able to understand everyone after two days of trying to communicate in broken Portuguese.
After showering up and handwashing my sweaty clothes, I was excited just to plop back in my bunk and rest my feet. But I didn’t rest for long. That was also the moment when I discovered my first lost item on this Camino.
When I packed my gear this morning at the hotel, I didn’t realize I’d left my mini 220V converter in the power outlet. So now I had my USB cable and 110V plug, but I had no way to plug anything into the albergue’s 220V outlets. Moreover, my phone’s battery was now down to 27%. Dang it. I needed to make a reservation for tomorrow night, and I intended to use it to navigate the route.
Luckily, I’d packed a slim 5,000 mAh external battery for emergencies. I would be able to give my phone one full charge tonight on that battery. But now, my most important order of business tomorrow would be to find a place to buy a 220V USB charger in one of the towns I walked through!
With that minor catastrophe solved, I rejoined the group of pilgrims as we collectively moved from the bunk room to the dining room. Carolina’s grandmother made a giant pot of soup for dinner. For €2 each, we could enjoy a large bowl of a hearty, homemade vegetarian soup and some bread, and nobody wanted to turn down that delicious treat!
And now, I could say I tried two new foods today: the Super Bock beer at lunch and a Portuguese caldo verde (potato and kale soup) during dinner!
