PdL to Rubiães: The high point of the Caminho

I’d scored a top bunk once more, with my Dutch friend below me. It was very warm overnight in the albergue. The air con in the room didn’t seem to make any appreciable difference once switched on and the couple of fans successfully pushed the warm air around the room. Consequently, I didn’t have the most restful of nights.

Most of our roommates were away a little before my Dutch friend and I, but we strode back to the centre of Ponte de Lima to find breakfast, before readying ourselves for the highest point of the Caminho Português.

We crossed the old bridge over the Lima, and were quickly into beautiful countryside.

Before long the path started to climb, gently at first, as we began to leave the Lima valley behind.

Some of our roommates, who’d left just ahead of us, had stopped at a cafe and so my Dutch friend and I joined them for a second breakfast. I noticed that they were serving a Portuguese brewer’s Radler, effectively a lager shandy pre-mixed with cloudy lemonade, and so had to order one!

We were soon back on our way, following the Camino through quiet lanes and mostly woodland tracks, which passed underneath a motorway a couple of times, with traffic rushing by far above us.

A couple of hours later, we reached the penultimate bar before the serious part of today’s climb began. Some friends from Fernanda’s, who we’d not seen for a day or so, had just had lunch and recommended the freshly grilled barbecue chicken and salad.

One of our friends had managed to lose one of her walking shoes the day before, and so had had to retrace her steps to find it, aided by reports from various pilgrims (on hearing of my friends plight) who had seen a shoe on the trail. She had however successfully recovered her shoe and was about to head back to the hostel where she’d stayed the night before and where she’d left her pack.

Having caught up with more friends from Fernanda’s at the cafe, we set off again but soon became more spread out along the trail as it became steeper and steeper, towards the Alto da Portelo Grande, the “mountain” of the Caminho Português.

This is really a large hill, some 410m above sea level, although we left Ponte de Lima at only 5m above sea level. The Camino climbs some 300m over only 4km, and in places is a steep scramble between huge granite boulders and loose stones.

Near the summit, the path passes the Cruz dos Franceses (Frenchmen’s Cross), which is treated a little like the Cruz de Ferro on the Camino Frances, and many pilgrims leave stones and other mementos at this stone cross.

Eventually, I reached the top and caught up with my friends who’d gone ahead. The summit was deep in woodland and so there was no view to reward our efforts, and it was simply time to descend into the next valley.

As the path returned to more gentle gradients, I walked with one of my Israeli friends for much of the descent, sharing stories about our lives.

I’d planned to stop at the municipal albergue in Rubiães, a tiny village towards which most of my friends were heading. Most of the others were booked into a private albergue about 250m down the road.

The municipal albergue is in the village’s former primary school building, and had plenty of space for pilgrims who (like me) weren’t booking ahead. It was a little on the basic side but for 10€, I certainly wasn’t going to complain. The main room held something close to 30 beds (in bunks) with room for a thin person to pass between the bunks (or a larger person moving sideways!) I was pleased to discover that I was on a bottom bunk this time. In fact, I think no one had a top bunk last night and there were a few bottom bunks going spare.

There was a tiny bar and micro-supermarket opposite the albergue, and so I headed there for a beer after showering and doing my washing. My Israeli friend from earlier then came in and we continued our earlier conversation.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Fernanda crew plus some additional friends accumulated over the last few days decided to cook for everyone, in the kitchen at the private albergue down the road. We shared some delicious pasta arrabiata cooked by my Italian friend. The owner of the other albergue made her own Vinho Verde, a white wine from this area of Portugal which is known as the Verde (because it’s very green), and there was plenty in the fridge. A couple of us added some red wine and port to supplement the occasion. One of our number was due to celebrate his birthday the next day and so again we sang Happy Birthday and similar songs in all the languages represented.Read more