Friday May 3, 2024
- Starting Point: Caminha (km 110.9)
- Ending Point: Sabarís (km 151.7)
- Distance Walked: 40.8 km (25.3 miles)
- Route: Coastal Route + water taxi into Spain
Today’s post begins with a rant. Why? Because I need to be honest and transparent about what the pilgrim journey is like sometimes.
After staying in a hotel during my first night of this trek, I planned to stay in albergues for the rest of the Camino Portugués. Albergues can be a nice way to meet your fellow pilgrims. And when it’s done right (like with Casa da Carolina in Anha), it can be a lovely and enhancing part of your Camino experience.
Moreover, if you are a solo pilgrim like me, spending one’s evenings at the albergue is an easy way to interact with other pilgrims. Everyone is excited to talk about what they saw during the day. Albergues are easier on the budget than a hotel or a casa rural. And it’s part of the overall pilgrim adventure – just like sleeping in a tent is part of hiking the Appalachian Trail.
Yet, there is an equal number of downsides to albergues:
- There’s a general lack of privacy, with pilgrims usually sleeping in bunk beds in a large communal space.
- You might have to wait for the bathroom or carefully time your shower because others are sharing those same accommodations.
- The albergue might be too cold or too warm at night.
- You can almost bet on having one loud snorer who disrupts everyone’s sleep.
And in some of the more popular towns along the Camino, private albergues will also double as hostels for younger tourists and travelers on a tight budget.
Overall, pilgrims tend to be a fairly sedate crowd, heading off to bed early because we are physically tired from a full day of walking. But, not everyone is into that habit.
Thus, it was a wholly unpleasant surprise when a rowdy guest returned (quite loudly and drunkenly) to the albergue shortly before 2 am. I had the misfortune of having the upper bunk beside her while she kept her light on for another 45 minutes to do whatever noisy activity she was engaged in while everyone else returned to sleep.
SOUR MOOD
Unfortunately, I didn’t get much shut eye after this inconsiderate guest turned off her light and passed out. I was just drifting off to sleep when a flurry of cell phone alarms started going off at 5:30 am. And once the pilgrim bag shuffling routine started up in the small communal space between the bunks, I was helpless to return to sleep.
I shuffled the short walk to the Minho River just after 7 am to catch the Xacobeo water taxi. It was their first departure of the day, but I was feeling more than a little grumpy. It wasn’t just the lack of sleep nudging my grouchiness this morning. Two other factors labored in the front of my mind: (1) today’s crummy weather forecast; and (2) how far I needed to walk.
I feel like I’ve been rolling with the punches with all the rain persistently dogging me on the first three days on the Camino. I’ve even been ok with the fact that the temperature in Portugal has been 10-15 degrees cooler than average. I know I can’t control the weather.
But today, the forecast had an extreme rain warning, with up to 2.2 inches of rain projected to fall in the next 24 hours. There’s just no way to make lemonade out of those lemons!
The second challenge impacting my mood seemed to be how far I had to walk today. I was initially hoping to stay in the coastal town of Baiona with all its amenities, restaurants, and scenic beaches. But when I searched the lodging options online last night, everything in Baiona was either completely booked or ridiculously expensive.
This discovery left me with two alternative towns to stop in: As Mariña (31 km into my day) or Sabarís (in 40 km). Unfortunately, my ego pushed me to book an albergue in the further of the two towns, and now I was facing the prospect of walking 40 kilometers (or 25 miles) in the heavy rain!
Water Taxi
Before I could really get going on that 40-km walk today though, I needed to cross the Minho River. This wasn’t as straightforward as walking across a bridge like I did in Viana do Castelo yesterday. The closest place to cross on foot was 13 kilometers inland in Valença. Any pilgrims who wanted to stick to the coastal route (like me) would need to cross the river by boat instead.
This river crossing was more significant in a few other ways too. First of all, I would be crossing from one country to the other. I was saying goodbye to Portugal and hello to Spain as the boat took me across the nearly one mile-wide river forming the border between the two countries.
I would also be changing time zones with my crossing! The boat ride only takes 15-20 minutes to get from one bank to the other. But in the midst of our crossing we’d lose an hour because Spain is one time zone ahead of Portugal.
Losing this hour was the main reason I’d booked my water taxi ticket for the earliest possible ferry ride into Spain at 7:30 am (GMT+1). Even with that early departure though, I wouldn’t get any walking toward my 40-km goal done until after sometime after 9 am (GMT+2) when I disembarked the boat.
When I arrived at the pier, it appeared that the early morning water taxi wasn’t very popular. There were only five pilgrims heading over to the opposite shore with me, which meant we’d be riding in “the little boat” instead of the larger ferry the company typically uses later in the day.
When we pushed away from the pier though, I noted there seemed to be a second (unofficial) water taxi operating a little further down shore. Eight to ten pilgrims stood lined up on the sandy beach waiting for a speed boat that was on its way over to ferry them across the river. All told though, there were not too many of early birds heading over to Spain at this hour.
Many of my fellow pilgrims – including my dinner mate last night – mentioned they wanted to take the train to Valença and join the slightly shorter and easier ruta principal, as it headed into Spain at Tui. Consequently, I wouldn’t see them again until the two routes merged together in few days when we got to Redondela.
First steps in Spain
Once the boat made it safely to the Spanish side of the river, the first order of business was a steep hike up hillside. Then it was several kilometers of trail through the woods to the town of A Guarda, the small Spanish border town that sits on the backside of the triangular peak I was staring at yesterday.
A Guarda is mostly renowned for the small round stone houses that were built here as a Celtic settlement between 200-600 AD. Yet I didn’t detour off the Camino route to see any of them. My main priority was the find myself breakfast. I’ve been dreaming about a proper café con leche since my brief stop at the Madrid airport earlier this week!
The route north out of A Guarda mostly followed the coastline, first on a path near the water, then up high on a dirt road through eucalyptus trees. It was rather scenic, despite the constant dreary rain pelting my rain jacket and pack cover.
The coastal path eventually ended though, and pilgrims were pushed uphill to PO-552, the main highway taking cars from Tui to Baiona. Luckily, the paved shoulder of this road was nice and wide, A dedicated pedestrian path/bike lane was even painted a bright shade of gold to alert drivers to people on the curvy road.
I followed the line of pilgrims stretching out ahead of me as we trod through the rain on the golden path, then back to a secondary route before returning to the road yet again. After several kilometers of walking with this constant blaze of gold underfoot, I began to think of this as “yellow brick road to Santiago.”
All morning long, I was battling drizzling rain which seemed to come and go every 15 minutes of so. It was in the upper 50s by now, and I felt as if I was overheating under my heavy rain gear for as the coastal, humid air swirled around me.
More than anything, I just wanted to remove my increasingly sweaty waterproof layers. But I knew better than to chance it. The rain was just too frequent, and I was bound to get 100% soaked as soon as I took my jacket or pants off.
Oia
Walking along this stretch of coastline also reminded me of the Camino del Norte during my trek back in 2022. The main difference though was how much flatter the terrain seemed to be. And the ocean was on the wrong side. I now had the Atlantic Ocean on my left side around instead of the Bay of Biscay on my right side.
As I neared the town of Oia a few hours later, the wind really began to gust – nearly stealing my brimmed hat right of my head. The Camino dropped back down from the yellow brick road on its approach toward a picturesque hamlet beside a cove. Ahead of me, I could also see the town’s main attraction: the Oia monastery built right above the beach
I worked my way through Oia in the light rain, but the balls of my feet were aching today. I needed to stop and rest here, but my brain pushed back. Each moment I was sitting down or resting, would be time I wasn’t making progress on my big mileage day. I didn’t want to end up walking the Camino in the rain and the dark.
Adding to this anxiety was the knowledge that I couldn’t just stop just anywhere I wanted on a rainy day like today. I couldn’t sit on the exposed benches or the rock wall above this pocket beach. I really needed somewhere dry and sheltered from the wind. Then a sign appeared as if to answer all my needs.
About 100 meters beyond the monastery sat a small cafeteria called A Terraza do Mosteiro. Visitors could stop and get a small bite to eat and something warm to drink, and even get a stamp for their pilgrim passport. It was the perfect dry reprieve from the rain, and barely off the Camino.
The cafe sat up on a hill, with terrace and floor-to-ceiling windows providing the perfect lunchtime views of the waves crashing against the shore. A group of four pilgrims was already inside drinking coffee, along with another solo pilgrim who was eating a sandwich. I ordered one of each item, then kicked off my wet shoes under the table to give my sore feet a much needed break.
After a half hour, I knew it was time to don all my rain gear once again. I wasn’t eager to return to the rain. But I was nearly halfway done with the day. Only 22 kilometers (13.6 miles) left to walk.
Rain, rain, and more rain
This afternoon’s miles just seemed to creep by as I headed north. Torrents of rain were now rolling in from the ocean with a ferocity that matched my lackluster mood. I walked along the coastal footpath with nothing by my thoughts and a little bit of misery.
Why had I booked an albergue so far away? I repeatedly asked myself.
Why was I pushing myself to hike this Camino in 8 days instead of 9? It’s not as if I needed to rush. I had more than enough time before I needed to head to Salamanca to visit my best friend Sean and his wife, Angelique. I could have casually hiked 20-30 kilometer days, and still made it Santiago in time. Why was I pushing 40 kilometers for multiple days in a row?
My outlook today seemed to be a complete 180-degree contrast from the joy I felt just yesterday. I loved the slower pace as I explored Viana do Castelo. Today though, I was tired and just slogging along, slapping my feet in the ground and as the rain and wind walloped my back. It was becoming a day of character building and type-II fun.
As I continued north toward the town of Villadesuso, I caught back up to the other pilgrims who’d gotten ahead of me during my lunch break. Once back in the bubble of pilgrims again, I stopped paying as closed of attention to my surroundings. I just kept my head down and followed the crowd.
In an effort to keep my phone dry, I wasn’t even checking my route. I was just walking along and assuming the people ahead of me were going the right direction. So when they followed a sidewalk into town, I did the same, only to discover they were going to their albergue in Villadesuso.
I’d completely missed my turn up into the hills above town, and now had to double back to it. And now the wasted effort seemed to sour my mood further. How could I make such a rookie mistake?
Once back on the Camino again, I knew had to get out of this mental rut. I was only ruining the experience for myself. I had to go to my ‘happy place,’ paste on a smile, and remind myself that I want to do this. I choose to do this route today. Nobody was forcing me. I just need to forget about the rain and focus my attention on the pleasant things. Like the cows laying in the pastures…
And a giant pile of colorful stones that prior pilgrims left along the route at one of the Camino markers…
And the bizarre storage yard that was warehousing giant 10-foot tall cartoonish animals out in the countryside (perhaps for some sort of a carnival or parade?!?)…
Then the Camino turned back down to the coastline, where more rough waves battered the shore. And I focused on the mesmerizing mix of deep aqua water and white foam where the waves met the rocks.
There was even an unusual, and unexpected windmill built on the edge of one of the small headlands jutting into the sea.
Finding the beauty in my journey despite the bad weather and my sore feet seemed to be working too. I was almost enjoying myself this afternoon. And my pace was better than it had been all day, despite the slow climb that seemed to go on for miles.
UP AND OVER
After several hours of walking, I made one last stop for coffee at a campground north of Mougas. I knew I’d need a quick break and some pep in my step for the climb that was to come and the final 10 kilometesr to Sabarís.
Returning to the rain, I followed the Camino as it wound its way toward the red and white striped tower for the Cape Sileiro lighthouse. Before I reached the cape though, the route climbed up into the rugged hills above the town of As Mariñas, en route to a steep, rocky pass I’d need to cross over.
The wind seemed to batter me even harder as I hiked uphill and became more exposed. My rain jacket and rain pants were completely wet out now from a full day of hiking in the elements, and my clothes were getting wet and cold underneath my rain gear. Yet I had this one final hillside to get over before I dropped back toward the oceanfront towns of Baredo and Baiona.
I pressed on through the wind and sideways rain, and even caught the two pilgrims hiking ahead of me. Were we were the only ones still crazy enough to be out here in the late afternoon hour and the bad weather?
When I finally made it back down to Baiona and rejoined the ocean, I could feel the relief of the day coming toward an end. I just needed to pressed on a little further toward the next small town of Sabarís. I was almost there. Just a few more kilomters left.
It was a quarter past 5 pm when I finally made it to the albergue for the night, and I was beat. Today had been a difficult day – both in terms of distance and mental perseverance. But that was the point, right?
I’d chosen to walk those 40 kilometers in the rain to push myself into the discomfort. I could have stopped anytime I wanted. I could have altered my destination. Or taken a taxi. But I hadn’t. I wanted to know I had the fortitude to do it. I leaned into it, embracing the suckiness of the day, to come out the other side.
If I’m being honest, I think this is one of the reasons I continue to do long-distance treks like this. It’s why I shortened my goal of this Camino into 8 days instead of 9 days. It’s not because I enjoy misery. But because I want to confirm to myself that I still have my sisu. My gritty determination, my tenacity, my ‘fire in the belly’ that doesn’t let me quit just because something is difficult.
The comforts of day-to-day life can make a person soft, and the idea of losing that part of my spirit scares me more than anything else. My identity has always been one of determination. I don’t need to set speed or distance records or prove myself to the world. But I still feel the push myself from time to time, because if something isn’t a challenge, then it just doesn’t seem as meaningful for me.
And with this challenging day behind me, I braved the rain one more time. I needed to find a bakery and the local Carrefour grocery, where I bought myself the makings for my dinner and a blackberry cider (my new food for the day).
On my way back to the albergue though, I decided I should make tomorrow an easier day. I’ve walked 151 kilometers (or 93 miles) in just 4 days. I can afford to take a little break, and with only two towns to stay in on the next 40-kilometer stretch of the Camino, I had a choice to make. I could either stay in the port city of Vigo (in just 23 kilometers) or walk to Redondela (in 36 kilometers).
I weighed the pros and cons of each town, and Vigo ultimately won out.
Vigo is one of Galicia’s largest cities (population: 293,000). This meant it would have plenty of moderately-priced hotels where I could book a private room and hopefully dry out all my gear tomorrow. Vigo is also the last town on the coastal route of the Camino Portugués before it rejoins the central route.
Perhaps even more important though, tomorrow is Saturday. I don’t want to be vying for a place to stay in a smaller town with few accommodations. So stopping in Vigo after just 23 kilometers tomorrow just makes more sense.
