Chanos

This is not a walk for sissies! Soon after leaving Lubian, we start up an unrelenting, steep trail. Even better, there is water running down the path and deep mud. After each of us missing a stone and plunging a shoe in the water, we changed into sandals for the rest of the ascent to Portela de La Canda, on top of the ridge, the gateway to la provincia de Galicia.

On the way down from the summit, we sighted in the distance a gas station up on N-252 highway, where we stopped with Brooks in the rental car on the way to the start of our walk in Puebla de Sanabria. That freeway passed through high hills, either barren, or covered in grey and brown, pretty grim looking, which made me dubious about our coming walk. I knew below us in the car) somewhere was the camino route.

As it turned out, on the actual path across those hills, we walked through purple heather, yellow, white and pink flowers, through tiny medieval stone villages and past impossibly green meadows. And birds I couldn't recognise, with melodious songs. Except the Spanish Cookoo, with it's tell tale call "COOKOO, COOKOO". It sounded like a person doing a bad imitation of what the bird SHOULD sound like. "Get a voice coach!" I yelled at them, "You can do better than that!"

Olivia was famished on the way to the next town, Vilavella. Ahead of her, I stopped at empty windows in abandoned stone houses and placed my order, "Yes, I'd like the combination plate with enchiladas, tacos, frijoles and papas. What"s that? Yes I'd like red chile and a fried egg on top." She never laughs at my jokes.Read more