Boente

Dumping our bags for shipping in the hall of our accommodation, we stepped down to the cafe in the street below again. Eggs and bacon this time, before striding out. Destination Boente, 20km away. A light rain.

Lots of people, a lot of groups, with guides. We had started at a stage end, rather than our usual half way, or isolated ‘nearly there’ point, so everybody had walked out from the same place, at the same time - we shadowed them nearly all the way.

We tramped up and down dale, through pretty wooded villages, past stone cottages and fields of Galician Blonds (velvety golden cows with curvy horns), and swathes of asphodelus flowers (I looked it up). We strolled in and out of churches, to see the decorated altars and to stamp our passports and locate the candles, until reaching Melide, and crossing the hump-back bridge for lunch - Spanish omelette in a cafe run by a man sporting a customised camino t-shirt, a heavy-rock beard, and musical taste to match. We also caught up with Richie Benaud (a man in a cream panama) and his party - really two Aussie couples that we had first met in ‘our cafe’ in Palas de Rei. After a quick conversation with a cat in a window box, we headed for the centre of town where we stocked up on provisions (fruit), and Chris got his essential Friday haircut.

Not much to write home about until the stone bridge, over a ford in the stream that crossed our path. Just a couple of quiet photos, until the cyclists came through. First man carried his bike (sensible). Second man cycled successfully across (to cheers). Third man was whooped across and photographed in the process (by me), immediately before he tipped off and fell down into a small crevasse at the side - too embarrassed to admit injury, but safe to say, it was NASTY.

Our planned 20km had mysteriously turned into twenty five, much to the disgust of my feet. A bit of a dull day for the blog.Læs mere