A Spot of Wind

Things aren’t always easy
I woke in the early hours of this morning absolutely certain that I would not be able to carry my backpack any further - the old hips weren’t holding up. We had already considered the possibility of shipping the bags at each stage if needed, but preferred the freedom of being able to stop and stay, where and whenever we liked. I decided not to relay this to Chris until a more reasonable hour. Things always look better in the morning, I thought, hopefully. Worries that our hostel was too remote to arrange shipping, and lack of staff on reception, were soon relieved when we spotted bags with address labels out in the hall! A simple conversation with the breakfast lady secured the envelopes - a quick search through the guide book for a suitable albergue, a conversation in broken Spanish over the phone, and we were sorted. Crisis averted.

Scrambled
Breakfast was a bit of a disappointment too - the ‘breast’ rolls from last night’s dinner (complete with decorative nipple tops), a few pots of yogurt, granola with choc bits, goat’s cheese shavings, and no tea!! I was saved by an offer of eggs revuelta, requested by my new hero, the Australian gentleman opposite. We chatted with the German computer engineer at our table, who told us he was trying to find his life’s purpose on the trail. Too late - I had already decided he was far too disciplined to be trying to find himself - he had pushed himself to complete 40km yesterday! German engineering is a wonderful thing. In contrast, English feet don’t take too kindly to just 25km a day, as I discovered to my cost.

A promising start
We set out just after 9am, under darkening skies, into a wild and swirling wind. Chris had rescued the waitress the previous evening when she was being attacked by a combination of said wind and a very large parasol. I forgot to mention the wind yesterday, as it was only intermittent, and was restricted to exposed areas, but it was definitely of note, because it was the sort of wind that doesn’t appear to have a direction, coming at you from all sides - there is no escape.

A road less travelled
Quite often on the Pilgrims Way, there is more than one choice of route. The descent into Portomarín is no exception - there are 3 options. The ‘right’ route is the shortest, but is quite steep in parts, running the risk of blisters. The left hand route is the longest, but the easiest and most pleasant. The middle route is the official measured (historic) route but contains a treacherous descent. Guess which one we took? - closely followed by an elderly German lady in full wet-weather gear, two sticks, and a 10kg backpack! It was a vertical dry bed of a cataract, complete with water smoothed stone, a la Center Parks, emerging onto a main road. But we all made it through without injury.

Oh, and did I mention there’s a hurricane coming? It was on the news...
It didn’t take long for the rain to start, with sunny spells and now a driving horizontal wind. We trudged nervously through a plantation of spindly, brittle-looking conifers, some of which appeared to have been caught in a brush fire - I saw a tall one felled ahead me. Even the crickets had stopped singing this morning (usually a very loud backing group for the birds).

Standing stones
The fields here are hedged with slate - with slabs that look like rows of grave stones. In fact, on first sight, I thought they were the edge of a cemetery, but here the dead are interred in multi-storeys, as in other Southern European countries. Slate must be very plentiful, because it is everywhere - it adds texture to every house wall, it lies in piles at the entrance to farms, and is boxed in bundles for delivery to who knows where and for who knows what purpose, stacked in village squares.

Greasy spoon
I had Caldo Galicia (a faintly chicken broth with onions and potatoes), and flan de cafe (an upside down coffee flavoured creme caramel with a Nice biscuit top/base). Chris had macoroni bolognaise, and the coffee cake. It did the trick after all that walking. Plus, I got tea - a proper sized mug, of proper tea.

“I can’t stand all this excitement, I’m going for a wee”...
There weren’t as many cafes in this section of ‘the walk’, consequently, even fewer toilets. Most frequent direction of the morning - “You keep walking whilst I just nip behind this bush. I’ll catch you up.” I managed to capture the greater spotted spouse emerging, nay, almost galloping from one such watering hole - look carefully.

What we learnt today:
1. Dogs walk ‘The Way’ - "Buen Camino perro”
2. Megan & Harry’s baby is called Archie
- prompting Chris’s comment about the trip to the toilet :/
3. There’s a hurricane on the coast - we saw pictures of the waves.

We watched the news today whilst sipping tea at our afternoon drinks stop, at Ventas de Naron. Oh, what a surprise, that means windy place!

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