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  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    Day 10

    Santiago de Compostela

    September 17, 2023 in Spain ⋅ 🌧 16 °C

    The following day I opted for the early 09:30 pilgrim Mass rather than the noon one. What a difference. Although the church was full there was little of the unsightly and irreverent jostling for a "good seat" and a photo opportunity.

    Mass was followed by Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament. Kneeling on a marble floor added to the penitential nature of a pilgrimage. Then there was time to visit the tomb of the apostle for a prayer and then to ascend for an abrazo, the names of those I'd promised to pray for running through my mind.

    Out and away to the pilgrims office for the faffy ritual of getting a ticket to stand in a queue for 20 seconds before collecting the compostela. Useful perhaps when it's busy, but with no more than four of us gathered? Heigh ho.

    A morning coffee and then the heavens opened. Only on the wicked? It certainly wasn't gentle.

    The Variante Espiritual is a good, short, self contained pilgrimage. As with the Ingles though, it's not long enough to feel immersed. To lose yourself. Having said that, I could see me coming back to it, but in cooler weather.

    Pax et bonum    Read more

  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    Day 9

    Padron to Santiago de Compostela

    September 16, 2023 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 16 °C

    We'd been promised rain by 2 in the afternoon so an early start seemed the sensible option. As usual the way had been scoped out the night before and so was easy to find, even in the dark. The return of great numbers of pilgrims also meant it was impossible to miss the way.

    It was set to be a long day and I knew the last 10km or so had seemed a drag the last time I'd walked it, so I'd decided to make inroads into the mileage before stopping for a break. As with all exits from large towns there's a fair amount of road walking through built up areas to contend with. Today was no different. I locked onto a loose group of three pilgrims about 100yds ahead of me and kept pace with them. This was the fastest I'd been walking all week, tipping in at 5km/hr. Only on the boat ride, where we'd clipped 40km/hr, had seen me travelling faster for the past 7 days.

    The route for the first 10km is actually quite varied. Stretches of open road and little clusters of houses created enough distraction for me to be nearly 2 hours in when a stop at the Church of Santa Maria de Cruces provided the first sello of the day. It was unusual to find a church open so early in the morning unless Mass was scheduled. An observation, not a criticism.

    Then we hit a stretch of forest and a big wave of pilgrims caught up with me. Along with groups of cyclists. I contemplated getting the poles out and keeping up with them, but prudence prevailed and I coasted at a pace I was comfortable with. I passed 15km and realised that not only had I not stopped but I'd not eaten this morning. Ahead I could hear the sound of a reasonable male voice belting out what sounded like traditional Galician folk music.

    In the courtyard of a small church 3 hombres were singing their hearts out to a small group of well dressed locals. Polite applause greeting each song.
    It was my 6th day rather than the 12th night, so I opted for some of the fresh churros and chocolate dip that was being sold at the side of the road next to the church. Fuelled with sugar, I blasted off to tackle the remaining miles.

    After some more forrest paths we joined the bigger roads and again the gradient went easily into double figures and the sun made an unwelcome appearence. Up we went. Nothing to distract the eye. Look down, count to a hundred, repeat.

    Ahead a large crowd had gathered outside the Capela Magdalena. An odd church inside, but pleasant for 5 minutes of quiet. A sello was offered and advice that from behind the chapel the twin spires of the cathedral could be seen in the "far distance". I'm not sure we needed the "far" part of the description.

    With only 8km to go, it all came flooding back. Some soulless main roads, false respite as a park was entered, then endless kms along barren stretches. It would be a good 2 hours before the end.
    As I'd done before, I took the wrong turn when a choice between San Marto and A Conxo was offered. Down the way plunged to a railway track before rearing up again. Pointless.

    The outskirts of the city were reached and the long drag up to the cathedral began. The by now familiar streets were gone through and then it was over.

    The scaffolding that had been present on my first arrival had gone, but in the square hundreds of pilgrims were gathering. Lots of large groups as well. This was something I'd noticed on the first two stages. Large, organised groups. Being self contained they had no need to seek the company of other pilgrims. In fact there had been times when I'd felt as if I was intruding when approaching them. An unwelcome change. Are all changes unwelcome?
    "Stat crux dum volvitur orbis", The cross is steady whilst the world turns.

    I decided I'd come back later to say hello to my friend    Read more

  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    Day 8

    Vilanova de Arousa to Padron

    September 15, 2023 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    The 5k walk back into town from the hotel was a good loosener for the legs. There was a heavy sea mist but I was hoping the sun would burn this off. We didn't sail until 12:30 so it wasn't an unrealistic expectation.

    On the entrance to the town stood the church of San Cipriano. Mass was just finishing and the congregation filing out. We took the opportunity to dive in, whisper in Santiago's ear, get a sello and a blessing from the priest. A beautiful church.

    Down at the marina the tourist information provided us with two extra sellos. We whiled away an hour drinking cafe con lech.

    Bang on time a couple of boats turned up and we were the last three onto the first to sail. The ride up the river was excellent. I was a little startled by the speed though. We saw 40km/hr at one point! I'm more used to 3 knots flat out when sailing. Lots of crucerios to see and lots of birds. I do like a boat ride.

    All to soon it was over and we were back to walking. Padron was reached in no time. It was just as I remembered it. Well almost. I had a wander up to the Pilar church, more properly known as Igrexa de Santiago Apostolo de Padron, to check on Mass times. 8 O'clock. Fine. Then a damper was cast on the mood when I saw that Pepe's bar was up for sale. Through the window the flags and football shirts could be seen hanging from the roof, but a layer of dust covered the tables and the furniture. Nothing ever changes for the better.

    A little food was taken and a wander round the town had until it was time for Mass at 8. And so to bed.

    Executive Summary. Vilanova de Arousa is a great little place and the translation up the river a fantastic addition to the many varied experiences which constitute a Camino.    Read more

  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    Day 7

    Armenteira to Vilanova de Arousa

    September 14, 2023 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 20 °C

    Up at the monastery the previous evening the chapel had been packed for the Pilgrims Blessing. I think a few people were surprised that Vespers was said before the blessing and left early. The chapel was still reasonably full though.

    It was a different story for the 07:30 Mass. The cloister was in darkness when we arrived and it was only from memory that we managed to find the chapel door. We were joined by one other person.

    With 10 minutes to go the door opened and in we went. Two more men appeared and went through to the sacristy. Just as Mass was starting two ladies turned up. So that was 5 of us in the congregation. A marked downward trend from the night before. Lauds was sang and then Mass followed. These entries are supposed to be about the Camino so I'll leave my thoughts on it all at that.

    Back up at the hotel the eccentricities of the day before continued. ( I dont think I've mentioned that my room had a large shower area with a floor that could be lifted up to reveal a sunken bath? A novel idea. I'd say the reason that it hasn't caught on is because it was almost impossible to get out of the bath after a soak. ) There's no chef so breakfast was a collection of cold offerings of various descriptions. Coffee came from a pod machine. I've never used one before so it was a struggle. The minimalist toast machine only had one job to do, but it didn't do it. Everything about the hotel looked fantastic, but wasn't functional. The staff were good though, so I was happy enough.

    Fed and watered we wandered back down towards the monastery ready to begin what had been rated as some of the most scenic walking on any Camino. The Ruta do Pedra e do Aqua. The way of water and stone. The river falls from Armenteira down to Barrantes with a number of mill races and grinding stones that were used for the production of flower. With expectations high, we started.

    It was hard going. Not particularly steep but endless tree roots were protruding waiting to trip the unwary. Or the less than fleet of foot. Then there were steep stone steps and slabs of downward sloping stone. Perhaps not unexpected given the name of the route. We'd chosen the path to the right. A Mexican lady had gone to the left. We were down at the river level, she was a good deal higher looking down through the trees to the water. In recent years I'd have to say that the bounce in my step has gone. I owe more to Brian from the Magic Roundabout these days than Zebedee.

    I batted on but I can't say I'd enjoyed it that much. Too much at stake really. After 2k the river flattened out a good deal and the walking was easier. Another 6k later and Barrentes was reached. Not much more than a large cantina next to a busy road. My mind went back to a Peanuts cartoon. Charlie Brown and Lucy are running barefoot through the grass exclaiming how marvellous it feels. Snoopy is looking on nonplussed. "You soon get used to it". Maybe that was the problem. River walks like this are common in Cumbria and the Dales. Ah well.

    From here on the path follows the Rio Umia and Rio Amelas. There was very little shade and the sun beat down. I was struck by the huge shoals of fish in the rivers. About the size of trout and all pointing upstream. I can only assume that whatever they were they were poor eating. If not you'd expect to see hombres casting nets.

    Another thought came to me. Since we seemed to be walking by the side of endless rivers we'd seen precious few fountains. When I did find one the water was unusually heavily chlorinated.

    Around 15k in we the path swung right onto a forrest path and up and away again. Mercifully short though. Then we entered an areas of vines. No shade whatsoever. I was begining to flag. As if on cue, I was caught by a Polish girl who decided to chat with me. Her excitement when I greeted her with Dzien dobry was short lived when all I could manage to go with that was Dziekuje. However, after finding that she'd been born in Warsaw I asked her where she was studying. "You won't know it, it's called wudge" ( I'm giving you the phonetic pronunciation here ). Ah ha! "That'll be spelt Lodz" says I. ( Łódź had I been writing it but, strange as this may seem, I didn't have a pen to hand ) I brought her to a standstill. We chatted on for a half hour and suddenly we were out of the heat and weaving our way through a small village. Kallina stopped to wait for her friend who was struggling on some way behind us. I pushed on reinvigorated. Maybe my middle name should be Tobias rather than Anthony.

    Vilanova de Arousa was now in sight. A sparkling sea and a golden beach. Thankfully I didn't wander over the large road bridge but kept on around the coast until a footbridge came into view. It looked a lovely town but boy was it hot. Finding it impossible to follow Google maps directions to an open mercado I commandeered what appeared to be two young lads. On closer inspection, they were "hanging tuff" with a plethora of tattoos and ciggies on the go. Drenched in sweat and swaying slightly I had a stab at asking where I could get aqua fridgedo. Near enough. Never judge a book and all that jazz. They took me down a couple of streets to an open shop trying out their best Spanglish on the way.

    Then, having done all Holy Mother Church had asked me to by walking into V.d.Arusa, I had them walk me to a taxi so I could ride out to my bed for the night. A place that looked like a small Scottish castle set in vast grounds. Old fashioned somewhat, but with large cool rooms and a bath. Sorted.

    Executive Summary. Well, disappointing. Not a bad days walking but..... didn't live up to the hype. Also, about 15 degrees to hot today.    Read more

  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    Day 6

    Combarro to Armenteira

    September 13, 2023 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C

    Brierley told us that this was a mountainous slog of a day. Maybe not long on mileage but 'mucho arriba'. We started with a 2k walk back into Combarro, more to get the legs warmed up than anything else. Walking by the side of a busy road is not much fun.

    In Combarro a left turn got us back onto the Camino. From the word go, the climbing started. If you're struggling to picture the steepness think back to the Hovis advert, then tilt the TV by 20 degrees. There were sections where I struggled to stand still.
    Then the sun made its presence known. It always seemed that at the steepest parts there was no shade. But there were things to look at to distract the mind. Many crucerios. Many horreas. Old abandoned doors leading to forgotten places. The view back down to the bay at Combarro.

    Eventually the road was finished with and the path turned to forrest track and senda. With the forrest came shade. And silence. We'd left the hoards behind. The coach pilgrims weren't going to tackle terrain like this. I saw three people the entire day and only spoke with one of them. Bliss.

    The Miradouro do Loureiro was reached but with the sun directly in the eyes the view wasn't that good.

    Back on the path I fancied I could hear something moving in the forest to the right of me. I guess we've always been slightly afraid when in thick forests. Fearful of the unknown and unseen. But I did feel a presence. It was almost a relief when I found eyes looking back at me. Horses!

    Arriba, arriba, arriba. But gentle now. A lovely walk. The next challenge came at Outeiro Do Cribo. Could I find the petrogilfos? Nope. These are carvings made into the rock. Hereabouts. But the exact hereabouts eluded me.

    Enough. Onwards. There then started the first real descent of this route since Vigo. Steep and a mixture of boulders and loose gravel. But thankfully short. Within 20 minutes the Monasterio at Armenteira was reached..... and the Chapel closed. Which was expected, as it's closed to pilgrims until October. But it was possible to walk round the cloisters and the was the promise of a pilgrim blessing at 19:00, with Mass the following morning at 07:30.

    Immediately next to the monastery is a large cantina serving food and drinks. My companions bocadillos were mahoosive and my chicken hidden surprise filled a gap. What's not to like.

    Later, back in the cloister waiting for the chapel doors to open for the evening service it quickly became apparent that the appeal for silence had fallen on deaf ears. The door opened and the surge to 'get a good seat' was frantic. The obligatory chattering started again. The Cistercian sisters gathered and vespers began. Some people left immediately. Others chatted amongst themselves. The pitch started high and got higher as the psalms progressed. This was no Gregorian chant though. Ignoring the instructions in Sacrosanctum Concillium we plodded on with a modern rendition of the Divine Office.

    After the Magnificat we got to the pilgrims blessing. In Spanish, Portuguese, Italian and English.

    "May the light and love of God bless and direct your steps. May the road rise up to meet you. May you open your heart to silence and keep with gratitude the joyus rememberance of the good things that you have encountered. May God carry you in His hands to the arms of St James in Santiago. May you go back to your home full of light and joy. Through Jesus Christ Our Lord"

    Back in my room I got ready for sleep only to have one of the legs fall off the bed. It was going to be a long and difficult night.

    Executive Summary. Some of the best walking I've had on a Camino, but still about 10 degrees too hot.    Read more

  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    1
    Day 6

    Pontevedre to Combarro

    September 13, 2023 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 20 °C

    On face value this should be an easy day. We'd decided to leave the long slog up to Armenteira until the day after. Nothing is ever easy though.

    After a fitful night's sleep in a room as hot as oven, accompanied by the world's saddest dog barking continuously, it was late before the first steps were taken. Backtracking into town, then walking along the river front we did at least cross on the bridge that was on the official Camino route. We'd missed it the last time we were here and got into all sorts of difficulties with the dual carriageway.

    Once over the bridge we again had a hombre shout us back onto the route by pointing us down a side street running parallel to the main drag. After clearing some initial traffic it proved to be a lovely stroll along quiet roads with varied houses appearing every so often. There were a lot of new looking crucerios in some of them. Obviously recently made.

    Eventually the splitting point of the two caminos was reached. Just as 8 years earlier. A couple of slim middle aged German ladies arrived at the same time. There was a fairly useless notice board describing the Espiritual way. But the towns were in descending order? Very confusing. But the variante was marked with yellow arrows and labelled, albeit on the side of a large garbage bin.

    The Germans were perplexed. I asked where they were going. Caldas de Reis. Then take the route to the right, says I. The left way goes to Combarro etc etc. They weren't happy. They looked for a second opinion. A giant of a youth with a whispy beard, a hacking cough and a cigarette hove into view. They asked him. His answer was incoherent and he sat down on the grass. I had another stab at explaining the situation. They still weren't sure. Drawing myself to my full height and in my best English I gave them my word, as an English gentleman, that they needed the route to the right. We left them to it.

    We then had two hours of glorious walking. It varied from side roads to fields to senda. Sometimes up a little, but never too taxing. The signage was glorious. At a junction, if there was ever the possibility of confusion, one sign was always followed up by another within seeing distance of the first.

    We paused by a church. Naturally it was closed. A patrol car drifted past. The first of three times. No idea why there was such a marked presence.

    We pulled in at a hotel and sat outside on a patio for a cafe con lech, coke and orange juice. A fountain sparkled nearby. Sadly the silence was shattered by grass strimmers.

    Our late start meant the arrival at Poio monastery coincided nicely with it closing for the afternoon. Ah well, hopefully there'll be a next time.

    By now it was scorchio. I zigzagged from one patch of shade to another. It wasn't long though before Combarro came into view. The tide was in so the sunken fishing boats were hidden in the water. This was another very quaint and busy place. A cantina provided us with food, though we decided against the pan fried sea slugs? Such was the popularity of Combatro that the place that we'd booked into was 2km further up the road. It was a weary trudge before we arrived at the hotel.

    The deep bath with foot operable taps was bliss. The air con? I had to put a jacket on to keep warm! We had a pilgrim meal which for €18 was a bargain.

    Executive Summary. A lovely days walking spoilt slightly by either 10 degrees too much heat or a 2 hour late start    Read more

  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    Day 5

    The knife in the room

    September 12, 2023 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 20 °C

    I'd arrived back after Mass with my warm bottle of water and a warm tin of coke and was feeling a little jaded. I decided to pack, ready for the off in the morning. It was almost 22:00 by now. I noticed something on the floor by the side of the table.

    A knife.

    I was a little surprised. By now I'd picked it up, taken the sheath off it. Tried the blade for sharpness. In fact I'd spread my finger prints all over it.

    What to do with it? I toyed with going down to reception with it and explaining I'd found it in my room. Was my Spanish up to that? Probably not. The lady on reception had been fairly unwelcoming from the begining. I couldn't see her demeanour lightening if I appeared with a knife. Best not then.

    I could leave it in the room and say nothing? Maybe wipe my prints off it. But then again they knew who I was as they'd taken my passport number. Maybe a call to the police would be routine procedure for cleaning staff when they found a knife in a room.
    Maybe it was the missing murder weapon the police had been searching for? That wouldn't look too good. I like Spain, but not enough to spend 10years in jail.

    Besides, I'd already been acquainted with the police earlier in the day when I'd flagged a patrol car down to get some assistance for an aged hombre who'd collapsed outside the church. I left once the ambulance had arrived and thought no more about it. What if things hadn't turned out too well for him. Here I am surfacing again with a knife.

    I was starting to panic now.

    I could throw it away in the morning.

    That sounded the best option. A quiet bin in the countryside. No questions asked. As long as no one saw me.

    But there are CCTV cameras are everywhere these days. It could be risky. It'd certainly look suspicious. Why had I disposed of it in a remote location? I'd struggle to find a sensible answer to that question.

    Maybe it was the heat of the room but I then thought of another scenario. Perhaps there'd been multiple murders and all the police had was the murder weapon. Frustrated at not being able to close the case they'd hit upon the idea of planting the murder weapon in the room and were going to lift the next person who checked in and frame them. It seemed unlikely. But, however unlikely, if it happened I could be banged to rights. I suppose after a lengthy stretch inside my Spanish would have come on leaps and bounds. But would it Spanish phrases I could use in polite company?

    I went to the window and looked out to see if I was being watched from a darkened car. It was difficult to tell as I was 4 floors up.

    I managed to get a grip and put the knife into the top of my bag deciding to find a solution in the morning.

    After an abysmal night's sleep I'd forgotten about it. Until 6km out of Ponferada a patrol car cruised past on a country road. I gave the two hombres a friendly wave and hoped they weren't thinking of doing any spot checks that day. We saw them twice more after that. They waved back, but nothing else.

    I still have the damned thing and I still can't figure out the best plan for separating myself from it.

    I thought life would be simple once I'd retired. Obviously not    Read more

  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    Day 5

    Redondela to Pontevedre

    September 12, 2023 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C

    With the weather predicted to be hot again I left the apartment before full light. Actually before any light, the moon being but a slim crescent. Just as well we'd scoped out the route the night before. On the main road the street lamps provided guidance, but off them? Darkness.

     "I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year 'Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown'. And he replied 'Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than a light and safer than a known way'"
    "So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night. And he led me towards the hills and the breaking of the day in the lone East"

    Well He certainly kept me on the right path. Not that I was alone though. Hoards of people came at me out of the gloom. I wasn't expecting this at all. Eight years ago while walking from Porto to Santiago we'd seen at most, 30 people. Now I was being passed by that many people each hour and pass me they did. Weighed down by no more than a flask of water and a rain jacket they left me standing!

    Brierley had promised 3 times as much elevation as the day before, but this time it was more gradual. Plus I had endless breaks as people passed me. The walking was also more pleasant. Some tarmac but also plenty of senda and tree lined routes. Soon the descent into Arcade began and the first place of any size that day was reached.

    Et in Arcadia ego? Well. Nice as it was I wouldn't be rushing back. Once over the old bridge we reverted back to hellishly steep streets. For a while anyway.

    The skirl of a gaita welcomed in a more gradual climb on a bouldered path. At last an opportunity arose for me to do a little overtaking myself. The bloke didn't stand a chance, I swept pass him like Lasse Viren. Fair play, he was trying to push a child in a pram up the path, but that was his choice not mine. Upwards we went. Excelsior.

    I was a little saddened as, after we plateaued, a queue had formed to get a stamp in a tiny Chapel dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. The din was prolific inside with scarcely anyone giving a look to her whose house this was or her Son residing on the altar.

    Forty minutes later I found myself standing where I'd been 8 years before. The decision to walk through the commercial outskirts of Ponferada or take the more tranquil route along side the river was the same as last time.

    Ponferada was again reached without too much drama. It too was packed to the gunnels. I popped into the wonderful small church of Nuestra Senora del Refugio La Divina Peregrina. Calm and cool. A half hour spent away from the heat and the noise. I'd missed this church the last time I was here in favour of the bigger and older church.... whose name at the moment eludes me! There was Mass at 19:00 so that set a marker for the day.

    Booked into the Hotel Don Pepe, a whole new experience awaited me. The room was as hot as an oven and looked as if it had time warped in from the mid '70s, but for the first time ever I found myself in charge of an electric bed! It's not something I'll be rushing out to buy.

    After Mass i went in search of a bottle of cold water. This proved way more difficult than I could have ever imagined. I ended up in a small shop next to Don Pepe's. A delightful elderly lady selected a warm tin of coke and a warm bottle of water for me. Only when I went to the counter to pay did I realise I was in the Spanish equivalent of a Scottish offal shop. Varies bits of cured pig were arrayed in a glass counter. Deary me. And so back to the oppressive heat of the room and onto the electric bed. Meanwhile, somewhere below in the street, a lone dog barked. He was still barking when I awoke from a fitfull night's sleep.

    Executive Summary: 8 years ago Ponferada smelt a little odd. 8 years later nothing had changed.    Read more

  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    Day 4

    Vigo to Redondela

    September 11, 2023 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C

    I was up and away by 08:30 expecting a quiet walk. As always navigating the Camino out of a city can be tricky. There's lots of competing signs and cars, buses, vans and people to obscure the arrows. So I was pleased when an hombre with a loaf under his arm told me that the route was "Todo arriba". He wasn't wrong either Almost from the word go the way went up and up. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised as the start was at sea level.

    Initially it was just your average drag. I nipped into a church to catch my breath. I was a bit saddened by the interior. Is this the best we can manage these days?

    Back outside and the weather was already starting to warm up. The humidity was high as well. Brierley had warned me that outside of Vigo water would be scarce, but I still drank away. Too late to start once the thirst has gripped you.

    Whilst negotiating some ambitious roadworks I'd failed to spot a yellow arrow hiding up a ginnel. Yet again an hombre shouted me back onto the path. Up it reared. Eddie the Eagle could have used it as a training slope. There were times when it was harder to stop for a rest than to carry on walking. Lycra clad men and women ground to a halt and fell to the floor, pedal clips being a double edged sword. Head down, count to a hundred. Repeat.

    There was a slight break in the relentless skyward flight as the N-922 was crossed. To my right I spotted a large building full of fire engines. An idea formed. Sure enough, as in Portugal, so in Spain. The Bomberos are amigos of the pilgrims. A mahoosive new appliance was being inspected but there was still time to replenish my water. Stout lads one and all.

    Back up the road and the aasult began again. Wearisome. Could the path not at least weave around a little? As with all things earthly though, at last the tribulation passed and the way began to contour round the forest. The effort was rewarded with view back to Vigo and Las Islas Cies.

    The forest path was pleasant underfoot as well as offering the shade that had been missing on the Camino Ingles. I started to relax a little. Maybe I was going to manage this after all. For myself, all Camino's are started with some anxiety. Would I get to the start line? Had I got enough training miles in my legs? Had I packed too much, or too little? Then you start and once you get into your stride there can be a sense of anti climax. My mood dipped slightly.

    Just at that point an enexpected cantina was found. A cafe con lech with a full fat coke blasted me with caffeine and sugar and the mood surged.

    As I rejoined the path I was surrounded by 4 border collies. Their owner was Francisco, known to his friends as Fran. He was talking to one of the dogs in English. He'd been over to Ireland to buy him as, in his opinion , there are no finer sheepdogs than those from Ireland. He spoke good English and had travelled in England and Scotland with his work. Over the next hour we had a engaging conversation about the history of Vigo and its neighbouring towns.

    Then there we were. The forest path had ended, the descent in Redondela was about to begin and I'd got my mojo back.

    Arriving at the church of San Martino de Ventosela I chanced to get in just as the parish priest was leaving, having said Mass there earlier that morning. There was time for a stamp though. Off course I could take a picture. Finally, yes I could have his blessing.

    The trek into Redondela was easy enough and the Don Vinarious cafe at the start of town was packed.
    Have I mentioned that already? Not since the last 100km of the Frances back in 2015 have I seen as many people on the Camino! No wonder accommodation had proved hard to find.

    After being fed it was a short walk out to the Catapeixe holiday homes. A newly refurbished building in a small fishing village. There was a great welcome from the owner and news that we could be back on the Camino the following morning by wandering down a few back streets. Magic.

    Executive Summary? Vigo is a fantastic place. Welcoming but not too commercial. Once I was walking, the way as usual provided all the timely support I needed. Splendid start    Read more

  • TravelerVariante Espiritual
    Day 2

    Getting to Vigo

    September 9, 2023 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    The trip down to Manchester was easy as we had an early start. But it was a bit of a shock when the planner announced that the connecting flight from Madrid to Vigo gave us all of 55 minutes to make the connection! Lots of debate around the requirements to clear customs, go through security again. At least it was with the same carrier.

    Taking off 15 minutes behind schedule didn't help ease the tension. One of the cabin crew gave us the departure gate, which was good. Less encouraging was her reference to the train we'd need to take between the landing and the departure terminals. Surely we'd missed something in translation?

    We made up a little time but still landed 10 minutes late. 40 minutes for the connection. Our first mistake was saying we'd flown into Madrid from Europe. Directed to the electronic passport controls we were told by a machine that we were no longer in the EU. About turn and over to non EU passport control. The queue was mahoosive. Thankfully there was a lane for "people daft enough to book connecting flights with less than an hour gap". Down this we went and cleared entry customs.

    Having overcome this hurdle we were directed down some escalators towards..... a train. I've since found that Madrid is the 4th largest airport in Europe. So big they have an underground line. The three minute countdown to the next train arrival added to the tension.

    Off the train and a quick sprint up some more stairs. We were within 20 minutes of the departure time. Now we had to clear security. Against expectations this went well and we were on the run again with 10 minutes to go. Two of us assumed we'd missed the flight, the planner was determined to make it and set off running. In the wrong direction. Sauntering up to the gate we found we weren't the last arrivals. The check in crew looked relaxed about it all and with 5 minutes to go before take off we boarded the plane.

    Way too much excitement for the start of a Camino.

    The hop from Madrid was a short 50 minutes and we landed at Vigo around 5 in the afternoon. A lovely regional airport with some mountains for a backdrop.

    We've had an evening and a day to wander round Vigo and what a nice place it is. Like most port cities, it's probable seen better times but is making an effort to renew itself. There's a mixture of old, dilapidated and modern. It's working coastal rather than resort coastal. The old part of town is attractive with various plazas offering drink and food. It's also very hilly. I'd say it would rival Betanzos. The moving walkways in the central area took some of the sting out of visiting the remains of a coastal defence. Here we had the first of the "sea crosses". Christ depicted facing inland along with St. James. Our Blessed Lady facing out towards the sea.

    First thing on Saturday morning I made a trip up to Decatholon to buy bastones. They had precisely two! The early bird and all that. On the way back I dipped into the Igrexa de Santiago de Vigo and picked up my first stamp. There's a statue of the man himself above the altar and the stain glassed windows depict St. James in all his manifestations. As pilgrim, as Matamoros, in his Translation by boat to Padron and as part of the Church Triumphant. I went back for Mass in the evening and grabbed a picture.

    The other highlights of Vigo for myself was the street art.

    All in all, a great place to start a pilgrimage    Read more

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