Thursday, February 14, 2013

A camino passenger

Way back on January 4th, the first day of our walk, we went to the Lisbon Oceanarium and bought a gift for the 18-month old daughter of a Swiss friend's brother.

Today, in Lausanne, Switzerland, we finally got to deliver it. It's a stuffed sea turtle that's been in my backpack for 45 days. It's funny that I carried an animal that has its home on its back in my home on my back. It's also the only item I carried that never got wet.

I carried it a long way and made a cute little girl very happy.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Day 32, the end

We were supposed to be out of the albergue by 8. I don't think any of the 12 people there even stirred until 7:30. Most were gone within 20 minutes. Albergue guy hurried us out politely. Yena left early to go to the hospital for an undisclosed reason. I guess not took serious since she left under her own power. Mark treated us to a leisurely breakfast across the street.

It's hard to say good bye. I wish him well. I wonder if we'll ever meet again.

My hip began hurting me 4 nights ago but felt fine on the last walk into Santiago and the day off and the first two days to Fisterra. Yesterday though, it hurt on every step. I've never had pain there before. I hurt while I was sleeping last night and still hurts. I was limping for awhile. By afternoon it felt ok again. No idea.

Last night, I told JH that it hurt and I didn't think I could walk 31 to Muxia. I didn't really want to either. I think she really wanted to continue.

We finally got our long-awaited sunny day. In dazzling sunlight, we sauntered 3 km to the lighthouse, enjoying a seemingly endless view across the ocean.

We took our pictures at the 0.0 marker and put Gyueon's sleeping bag in the trash along with their worn out hiking sticks. We made our way down the lighthouse cliff until we were as close to the edge as we dared.

I pulled out Derek's shell, checked the wind, and whipped it sidearm to the water. It spun and floated perfectly to a gap in the rocks and dropped straight down into the crashing waves.

Bom caminho.





Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Day 31, Fisterra, 29 km

More fog, rain, rainbows.

The fog lifted and gave us a look at the Atlantic Ocean. Suddenly I realized why I'd thought about Derek on that rainy day more than two weeks ago (the song is still looping!)-- Derek loved water. The four places we scattered his ashes were water. Growing up, we spent whole summers at at Lake Massapoag. In Mexico, we spent more time in the pool and ocean than anywhere else. If there were such a thing as reincarnation, I'd hope he'd come back as a dolphin.

I suddenly knew what to do with the shell with his name on it.

Today's walk featured a 15km stretch of dirt roads. No buildings, no traffic, few people. Just our feet hitting the ground. JH and I like to walk hand in hand when the trail allows it. Today we walked that way for so long that when we finally let go, I psychically lost my balance.

For a long time afterwards, the three of us were spread out physically and lost in our own thoughts. Gyueon was out sight in front of me, JH far behind. Gyueon wasn't thinking anything more profound than, "I'm almost done! Freedom!"

Jeonghwa was thinking about tomorrow's walk to Muxia and how she wished the whole trip had been as nice as this. Even in the rain and long distance, it was comfortable. I was thinking of not continuing to Muxia. In my mind Fisterra, seemed the proper end, especially considering what I planned to do. Besides, for the first time, I was experiencing pain walking. I was worried that I couldn't continue.

The rest of the walk was great, next to the ocean. It was another perfect day.

Outside the albergue, I was accosted by a man asking for money so he could stay in the albergue. I listened to his plea-- he just needed €5 to complete his trip. He almost had me then I realized he had beer on his breath. Wait a sec. He has money for beer but not for the albergue? Bye. We went in and presented our credentials

An intimidating man asked, "Where did you come from today?"

"Olveira"

"Where's your stamp?", he demanded.

"Um…"

This was the only time I'd ever forgotten to get stamped. I pleaded my case by spouting gibberish. I don't even know what I was saying but it was all wrong.

"You're telling me you walked 48 km today?!?!"

"Yes. No. I mean no. I mean what?"

JH said to me,"You didn't get stamped? I'm gonna kill you. Unbelievable."

She was acting, I'm sure of it.

The man said that we couldn't stay there, "this isn't a hotel. This is for peregrinos who walk here. You can't take a bus and stay here."

I couldn't understand why the guy was being so tough and aggressive and said, "I don't want trouble. We'll go somewhere else." I didn't care about getting another certificate. That's not why I did this. And I was really going to leave.

Then the drunk beggar came in, for obviously not the first time. Ah, that's the problem. Albergue guy is taking it out on us. Another Peregrino took care of the drunk, leading him out and to a different place.

Meanwhile albergue guy's partner calmed everyone down. "Maybe you took pictures of your walk today?", she asked.

We whipped out our camera and phones to offer proof. Good enough. Smiles and apologies all around. Good vibes. We got stamped. The woman mentioned that she designed the very first stamp we'd gotten way back in Lisbon. JH got her to sign it. We got certificates that I did suddenly care about.

We were in!

Upstairs, we were reunited with Yena. We saw Marks pack, heard that he'd gone to watch the sunset at the lighthouse.

After we returned from dinner, we were reunited with Mark. We presented him with a Ganse and he proudly put it on his pack.

This was probably the worst of all albergues. Dirty, crowded, and noisy but it was perfectly appropriate. I fell asleep instantly and slept like a baby for three hours then woke up to pee.

CREAK went the bed. RATTLE RATTLE I knocked over my water bottle. CREAK went the door. SLAM! I whispered apologies. Several creaks, bumps, and a whizz later I was back in bed, and I lay there awake until morning ready for tomorrow.






Day 30 to Olveira, 33km

Yes, the title is correct. 33 km.

We walked in a thick fog most of the day. Every field we looked across had fog rolling on the edges. In the woods, it was difficult to see the next marker at times. The distances markers that I'd loved to hate/ hated to love do much during the last days to Santiago were not much help because most were missing the distance tag. Did they fall off? Did people take them as souvenirs? Without maps, visibility, and distance indicators, we were floating free in the world. It was liberating. It was relaxing. It was fascinating. It was everything the Camino Portuguese was not. I understood why most peregrinos finish with this.

For lunch I had a ridiculously big bacon and cheese sandwich. Almost too big. Almost too much bacon. Almost.

We had our first perfect day. In the rain.

1 rainbow #52
2 fog
3 bacon
4 too big for one picture
5 cows are happy because I ate bacon














Day 29, Santiago to Negreira

It feels strange to start from the cathedral. We turned our backs to it and headed down the stairs and saw a rainbow shining on the way ahead. Off to a good start. This is going to be a relaxing 22 km I thought.

Surprisingly fast, we were out of the city and walking in a forest. All day, the way alternated between local asphalt roads or farm roads. A shepherd left his flock and walked through a field to talk to us and warn us about the next part.

I misunderstood his first question and replied, "Lisboa", thinking he'd asked where we'd started. He grabbed my arm and called me "hermano". Oops. He thinks I'm Portuguese. We fixed it and explained that we are American and Korean. Then he figured out that we'd started in Lisbon and smiled. We tried to talk more but soon ran out of gestures and facial expressions. He finally got around to the important information.

Pointing to the dirt path leading into another forest, he said, "mucho agua". He pointed to his knee high rubber waders. "Si."

He pointed to our hiking boots. "No."

Then he told us a way around. Muchas gracias!

We have the tradition of yelling, "man down!" when someone has to stop to tue or readjust shoelaces. It's usually Gyueon at least twice a day. It's happened to jh and I just a few times.

Today was JH's turn. Gyueon pointed out like a 12-stepper that it'd been three days since his last time. We congratulated him and he demanded 3 euros. We laughed but I think he was serious. Sorry buddy, you gotta go 30 days to get your chip.

Today was a very pleasant walk with inspiring natural beauty. Green rolling hills, cows, shifting skies. We didn't even mind walking through 9 or 10 rain showers, especially since we were rewarded with a rainbow every time. We started singing, "Ho hum
a-noth-er rain-bow
What-e-ver."

A common expression in New England is, "don't like the weather? Wait 15 minutes."

Here in Galicia, wait 5 minutes.

Gyueon is talking about future adventures. He wants to go hiking on weekends and if he has time this summer. He is also talking about walking the French after high school graduation, five years hence. He was very inspired by all the Koreans we've met.

More Koreans came to the guesthouse last night, replacing the ones who left. Among them was a mother and her son and daughter, who did the French together. For the second time. They looked fine, like they'd just been to the park.

Gyueon is most impressed with Mark. He's independent and fearless. He's fast, too. Gyueon commented on how smoothly Mark walked. JH took the opportunity to point out that Mark had good posture and keeps his head up. I added that Mark is confident, which helps. Plus, he's not addicted to his smart phone (doesn't even own one). Gyueon walks with his head down too much. On a recent muddy day, he literally walked into me several times when I stopped to navigate through mud.

We reached Negreira in the heaviest rain of the day and had trouble finding our first choice of accommodations, a private albergue called San Jose. After a wrong turn, a premature turn around, and help from strangers, we found it. Closed and no indication of operating hours. Of course.

I had a feeling that we should stick to official albergues but JH really wanted clean beds (the bed bug incident was horrible) and all Gyueon wants is wifi. Even after our bad luck, I still prefer official albergues.

We went to a coffee shop to regroup and get out of the rain. On the way, we passed a guest house that advertised €10 bed, €7 dinner but didn't go in. I got bored at the coffee shop and said I go check out the albergue.

JH thought I meant the guest house we'd just passed but I went to the official albergue 1.2 km down the road. It looked pretty good, warm, clean, and had a good kitchen. I walked the 1.2 km back. JH was a little angry that I'd been gone so long. And annoyed that I'd checked out the official albergue.

We walked 1.2 in mostly silence to the albergue. And 1.2 back to the grocery store. And 1.2 back to the albergue. Not an efficient use of our time or energy. We had a good dinner and we're are prepared for a good breakfast. JH and worked out our problem. She's understandably freaked out about bed bugs. I'm understandably freaked out about our budget. I explained that bed bugs are just as likely to be in a private albergue anyway. We're good.

1 rainbow showing the way.
2 One of us is back packing. The other is just out for a walk.

3 a bridge worthy of the name
4 flood
5 nice trail









Day 28, Santiago, day off

Lots of rain. I'm glad we didn't leave for Fisterra today but I feel for Yena and Mark, though I think Mark may actually like getting wet.

Three days ago, JH started getting mysterious bites that we confirmed as bed bugs. Yikes. I think we can never go home. We shouldn't be staying in a guesthouse either probably. She's definitely suffered the most on this trip and is eligible for the MVP (most valuable Peregrino) award. Neither Gyueon nor I have been affected. JH is very sensitive and bugs seem to live her. In the summer and fall, I rarely get bitten by mosquitos because they seem to prefer her.

So we closely examined everything washed everything in machines. Hopefully there will be no more nibblings.

We didn't do much sightseeing because of the rain and laziness.

We reorganized our stuff. For the finale, we are packing light. No extra 'town clothes' or shoes. Minimal equipment. JH will not carry a pack, just a shopping bag and an umbrella. My pack will be at 75% weight. Gyueon's, less than half. We have some long days to do and a lighter load will definitely help.

We're definitely going to Fisterra, to the lighthouse at the end of the world but were still undecided about Muxia and it's quiet beach. I'm excited about finishing and walking a quieter way.

The finish in Santiago was a bit anticlimactic. Hurry through city streets. Hurry up to mass, hurry up to get the certificate, hurry up to check in, hurry up for free dinner. No time to reflect upon the trip.

We have no maps for this route but we hear it's very well marked. There is also very little information other than a 4 sided printout of places to stay and eat. We are not worried. We have experience and confidence. Everything will be ok.

We start finishing tomorrow.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Day 27, Santiago, part 2

After mass, we went to the Peregrino Center to get our official certificates, after showing our fully stamped credentials as proof.

Yena led us to a guest house she stated at after she finished the French route. There were 7 other Koreans there who all just finished the French route. Some looked like they'd just returned from war. I wondered if we looked the same to them. They'd almost all started individually but ended up at the same place mist nights. Among them were two recent high school graduates, doing the trip in winter before university starts in March. Gyueon was very impressed by them. I was too. I don't think I would have done that at that age. Others had recently completed their compulsory military service. They did it in the winter because they figured if they survived Korean military duty, they will have no problem with the French camino in winter.

We found out that a luxury restaurant next to the Cathedral feeds 10 peregrinos free. It sounded shady but Mark had three meals there last year. We took our hungry selves and our new certificates and went to the basement parking lot of the restaurant to meet the man in charge if free found. There were already 7 people there (including Mark, who was doing his own thing), we made 11. One German guy had started 5 months before from Germany!

There was some discussion about how to settle this. Three more people showed up. The German guy suggested that whoever had eaten here should step aside for those who hadn't yet (peregrinos can get three free meals). That disqualified him and 3 others. Problem solved. Free food guy came, gave a voucher and led us outside, through the main entrance, past the well-dressed patrons and posh tables, through the back, down a hallway, to a back room, totally our of sight of paying customers.

We went up some stairs to a private kitchen where a chef prepared cafeteria type food for us. We put it on trays, grabbed wine (and stuffed our pockets with fresh fruit) and enjoyed a nice meal back downstairs. I counted. Somehow an eleventh pilgrim had snuck in.

After, Mark stopped by our guesthouse to have a glass of champagne. We toasted to new friends and adventure.

But we did not toast to the end.

Traditionally, most pilgrims, seeking closure and a peaceful end to the journey continue to the sea, to Fisterra or Muxia, or both (adding up to 111 km and 5 days of walking).

Mark and Yena (individually) were leaving tomorrow, going to Muxia then Fisterra (4 days). We were taking a day off then walking to Fisterra (3 days) and possibly Muxia. We didn't realize at the time that we'd see Mark and Yena in Fisterra.













Sunday, February 10, 2013

Day 27, Santiago!, part 1

It's raining.

Boots are dry enough. Mark left early. I hope we see him in Santiago. We got ready fast. Spaniards are still sleeping. I wonder how the game was.

This was a nice walk, one of the prettier ones despite the rain. I didn't put my hood up today because I wanted to see everything.

We stopped for a quick breakfast. Quick wasn't so quick. Someone ordered an extra coffee and got on wifi.

"C'mon, we can't be late for mass! Did I really say that?" Left the cafe at 10, with 9.6 km to go. Our past history would indicate that we'd never make it, but today was special. JH said, "if we miss mass, I'm gonna kick someone's ass!"

5 km to go, I don't even feel my feet touching the ground. Yena, who has been dragging all morning, blows by us. I draft off of her. The stone markers that kind of annoyed me before, seemed to help today. 4.124 one said. Then, I swear only 6 minutes later, another said 3.229, making me feel like Flash Gordon.

Then, there were no more. I still felt like I was flying but I had no sense of distance remaining. We expected to see the cathedral and thought perhaps we'd gone off course (at nearly 9kph it's difficult to make tight turns) in the city streets but people were pointing or nodding the right direction. They were getting out of our way too. Perhaps they've been hit by a Peregrino traveling at Mach 1.

The clock was striking 12 when we arrived. We sat, shivering, through a 40 minute mass. We spotted 10 or 11 other peregrinos from other routes and Mark.

We'd made it!





Day 26, almost done!

Since Tuy, we've seen new markers, large 10x10 cm stones, about 100cm high stuck in the ground, indicating distance left to Santiago, accurate to three decimal places. I noticed the first one at 114.476 but didn't see another for a long time. At first, I liked knowing the exact distance remaining but sometimes it was annoying.

Sometimes they appear too often. We saw one at 29.924 and celebrated. Soon we came to 29.576 and were a little demoralized. "What!? We've only gone…348 meters since the last one!?!"

Sometimes they are too far apart, which is disorienting because we stopped looking at the guidebook when the countdown started.

It's common practice for peregrinos to carry a rock and place it on the next marker. I did it a few times, on 46 for my sister's age, and on one of the three 44s for JH and I. I had something special to place on 39, Derek's age when he died, but there were no markers until 25.

After the day I nearly cried about Derek, I thought of what to do. On our trip to Jeju Island just before the camino trip, JH and I picked up two scallop shells (the symbol of the camino) to carry with us, not really knowing why. A few nights ago, I wrote Derek's name on one and put it on my pocket thinking I'd know what to do with it when the time came. I guess I'll think of something else.

The markers made me think of counting down to the new year, resolutions, and new beginnings. I've done well with my little project from the early days if the trip-- listening carefully and patiently. New beginnings: Gyueon and I definitely know each other know.

I imagine the markers as counting down to launch the rest of my life but it doesn't really work. My life will be pretty much the same.

The markers could be seen as time running out. How much time do we have left? Can you afford to delay doing what you really want to do? Why wait to take that trip? Why wait to say, "I love you." Why wait?

We walked past a church with a cemetery. The bells were ringing the most mournful tones I've ever heard.
Do- (I took 12 steps)
Do- (18 steps)
Re- (22 steps)

Over and over. We heard this for the next 20 minutes. Sometimes the sound was lost in the wind or the trees or the turns in the road but it found us again and again. I guess that inspired my thoughts on time running out.

Today was a long walk, 28.2 km but it was worth it. Now our walk into Santiago tomorrow will be just 14km and we'll make the noon mass.

We made it to albergue Teo in the dark. Our clothes and shoes are wet and may still be wet tomorrow but we don't care. Tomorrow we'll be in Santiago.

Mark is already here. And the Spaniards. I finally find out Fernando's real name- it's Valentino. Of course it's Valentino. There are seven of us here but we have taken up all 24 beds, drying stuff out and organizing. The floors are heated so we laid our clothes out under beds to dry.

Dinner, we all wanted to go together but the Spaniards have found poisoning and are just going to eat rice porridge. Yena walked to the restaurant with us but suddenly felt sick and left. The remaining four looked at each other, wondering who would be stricken next. Dinner was a success. We walked back in the rain, getting our dry clothes wet.

Back at the albergue, the Spaniards were getting ready to go to a local bar to watch the big match, Real Madrid vs Real Barcelona. Knowing Gyueon is a big football fan, they invited him. Then they found out he is a Real Madrid supporter and rescinded the offer.

One more sleep.










Day 25, part 2

JH and Gyueon had one of their usual afternoon talks but I had Yena to talk to. To see her, you would not think she was a walker because of her physique. She started out following in her sister's footsteps, almost literally. Her sister walked the French camino in the fall and suggested that Yena do it as well. Yena had a rough start but persevered. She gave up on her first day but another Peregrino, a Korean, pulled her to her feet, took her pack, and gave her walking sticks. Her 'angel' walked with her for quite awhile, carrying two packs, until she recovered. When she finished the French, she decided that she wasn't dive and start the Portuguese from Porto. I am impressed by her.

We stopped at a little diner for lunch and Mark was just finishing. He left and we still weren't sure if we'd see him again.

In the morning it wasn't raining and I boldly packed my rain gear. Mark looked at me with a smirk, "Field of Dreams?"

"Yep, if I use it, it will rain."

You know what I'm going to say now. Let's say it together. Very soon thereafter, …

It rained most of the day and we thought we were lost for a long time but it was a good walk. We easily found our accommodations, a cafe/ private hostel. Actually, it was suspiciously easy. The girls took one room and Gyueon and I took another. Gyueon, who had already gotten attached to Mark (sick of me?), was worried about Mark. Just as we got settled, Mark showed up, so Gyueon and I moved to a room with 3 beds to share with Mark.

We all went out to find food. We found a place in record time and it turned out to be one of the best meals of the trip. The woman in charge was very kind and patient, explaining the menu until she was convinced we understood. She clearly takes pride in the food and wanted us to eat well, which we did.





Saturday, February 9, 2013

Day 25, Ponte Vedra to Caldas do Reis

Originally today was supposed to be a day off but so close to the end, it seems silly to stop. Besides, YeNa and Mark are going on.

Nobody got up until 7:30. Several signs announce that peregrinos must be out of the building by 8. Not gonna happen. It's still dark out for crying out loud.

We all ate breakfast in the little kitchen together. We got the drama over with early today-- JH burned her thumb on a microwaved mug. It's has a big blister and it hurts me just remembering looking at it. We put cream on it and wrapped it up.

Mark was planning to go 30 km but he wasn't saying goodbye. Yena had information on a good place to stay and gave him the address. Mark claimed he hadn't been lonely but to me it was clear he had been. I was pretty sure that we were going to see him in Caldas do Reis. He left before us.

We saw him much sooner than we expected. Just beyond the city center he caught up to us. "I had to wait for the grocery store to open."

He walked with us for awhile, gradually drifting ahead, until we could only see him on straight sections. We lost him for awhile then spotted him talking to what looked like a centaur. As we got closer, the back legs turned out to be fence posts; the body, a backpack; and the creature, a human female. The illusion was helped by a large black poncho draped over the pack but not her upper body.

Her name was Susan and she was just walking back from Santiago. She was very friendly and bubbly and I think she'd been struck by too many rainbows.

Upon seeing JH, Gyueon, and Yena, and establishing that the were Korean, she outstretched her arms and said, "How wonderful it is to meet people from your country. Your people are so kind. I've met many."

We moved on but Mark talked to her longer. Later he caught up and told us that she'd been walking since the northern part of Norway. Not in one continuous trip but piecemeal. Between walks, she works sporadically and walks other caminos. Even Mark thinks she's spent too much time on the way. We lost Mark soon after he caught up to us.

There is a subculture of people who live on the camino. They finish one and either turn around or do another one, looping endlessly, not finding whatever they are looking for. Some of them fund their journey entirely through begging. Call me a jerk, but I won't be giving them any money.



Day 24, Ponte Vedra

After checking in, the Korean Koalition went into town (1.3 km) to buy food for breakfast tomorrow and perhaps find a good place for dinner tonight.

The most stressful part of this trip has been finding a place to eat. JH has to know all of the possibilities, Gyueon is 13 and his tastes change minute-to-minute, whereas I just have 5 criteria: close, reasonably priced, not Chinese, not buffet, not fast food.

Many nights end up in mild disappointment after a long search. Part of the problem is that nobody takes charge. I think we'd do much better if we take turns choosing.

JH had the good idea of eating tapas tonight but none of the tapas restaurants served until 8. It was barely past 6 and we (me) were starved. Eight was too late.

Since I consider hunting for food a normal thing, our day was still good. In baseball terms, we just had to survive one more inning.

We asked ourselves why we were making this more difficult than it should be? Let's just eat next to where we had drinks? Mark said lunch there was alright. What could go wrong?

Mark was already there, drinking wine and waiting for his food that he'd ordered 10 minutes before. We joined him and ordered. The cafe guy repeated our orders back, incorrectly, and asked Mark if he was ready to order. Uh-oh.

The guy (I will not call him waiter or cook in order not to insult waiters and cooks) forgot and confirmed our orders several times. He served us the worst wine ever made. Then he spent whole minutes carefully wrapping our utensils in napkins. JH noticed that he was using a stool that a dodgy customer had just vacated as the prep area for the utensil wrapping. We unwrapped the gifts to find almost half were unwashed.

The perfect game is gone but we still have a no-hitter going.

He checked orders again. Some time passed. One order came. Some time passed. Another order came. Some time passed. Another order came. Some time passed. Another order came. Some time passed. The last order came.

My chicken was raw. I sent it back. Twice.

We lost the game in dramatic fashion. That's the way, isn't it?


Photos:

1 a church
2 the worst cafe. Ever. Period.




Day 24, to Ponte Vedra, 18.2

I dreamed that I was camping out in the open and someone was trying to steal my maps. I woke up trying to kick the metal bunk frame. Luckily my feet were stuck inside my sleeping bag. 7:30, time to get up anyway.

The three Koreans and I (the Korean Koalition) were up and out very early. Out for the biggest croissants that have ever existed. They were so big that "Full Double Rainbow, All The Way" guy would really lose his mind if he saw them. "What do they mean?", he would ask.

Breakfast.

After breakfast, we bumped into Mark, who was just leaving the albergue. The five of us walked together for nearly an hour. Mark told me about his job as a gardener and about his previous adventures. He's walked the French camino as well as the Silver camino route from Seville, among other trips. He gets 7 weeks off from his job and takes them all together in January and February.

I knew Mark was itching to walk faster and was just waiting for an opportunity to leave gracefully. He got it when we detoured to pick up sandwiches for lunch later. He said, "see you in Ponte Vedra."

It was a very smooth and comfortable walk today in perfect weather, 10°C and sunny. We were hiking in long sleeve tshirts, our rain gear and wool caps pack away. For once, the sight of water didn't annoy us. It was our first easy, perfect day. Usually we blunder into problems and we almost did.

Near the end there is an alternate riverside route that avoids a busy road. We took 5 steps and a farmer trotted over and warned us that the water was very high and urged us to just continue on the road.

Phew! Crisis averted! Perfect day still alive!

I joked that the albergue was probably burning down but when we arrived at 2:30, it was still intact. The sign said it opened at 4. No problem! We went across the street for drinks and JH took advantage of the free wifi to book our post-camino accommodations.

Peregrinos generally are a dirty, stinky lot, with messy hair and muddy boots. We look like we don't belong in most establishments, among freshly showered and clean-clothed people.

We looked up at the other customers and realized that we were the best dressed and best smelling people in the cafe. We were red carpet ready compared to them. Later we saw that the cafe is next to what looks to be an unofficial shanty town/ recycling center.

Mark came in as we ordered. He'd just finished lunch next door and saw our packs. I noticed he was wet from the waist down. "I fell in the river," he explained, "I took the river option and fell off a dodgy bridge." He was happy.

I told him that we'd had no drama today. With a smile he said, "that's too bad. It must have been a dull day."

If I were traveling alone, I'd agree. But it would have been a lonely day. We joked that he'd taken the hit for our team. Thanks to him, our perfect day was intact.

The mercurial Mark said he'd see us later at the albergue, he was going into town.

The remaining four debated tomorrow's plan. We knew Mark didn't plan that far ahead and wouldn't feel left out. He does his own thing. I wanted to continue staying in albergues and walk 18.3 to Rotonda. The problem was that there were no stores or restaurants around. We'd have to buy food tonight and hope that the kitchen there was adequate. Plus, 18.3 is a little short. On the plus side, €5 each.

The others wanted to go 23.1 to Caldas de Reis and share a tiny room for €10 each. Plus side, cafes and restaurants.

The decision was made: Caldas de Reis. I knew it was the right choice.

At 4:15, we entered the albergue and were greeted by the welcoming committee-- a very friendly cat named Peregrina and two nice volunteers.





Friday, February 8, 2013

Day 23, part 2

As we approached the albergue, we noticed some lights on. We have company!

We met Yena, a Korean woman who has been reading our guest logs at various albergues since Porto. She never expected to catch up to us but thanks to a day off and a couple short days, she has. She walked the Camino Frances (790 km), and, wanting more, immediately started the Camino Portuguese from Porto (320 km). Wow!

We met the second additional guest, Mark from Wales. He started from Faro, on the southern end of Portugal on January 1st, camping most of the way to Lisbon. Impressive.

We were immediately humbled by them.

We scrambled around to share heaters and went to dinner together. I think we'll be good friends. I don't think we'll see Mark again unless he slows down. Find Faro on a map. Now find Redondola. Could you walk that in less than a month?



Day 23, Redondola, part 1

I'm convinced we will never have an easy day. The walk was a bit dull and, by the way, it rained most of the day, very heavily for an hour. We didn't see many people out today, just three mountain bikers, their colorful kits decorated with earth tone mud spatters.

We arrived at the albergue Redondola at 12:43 and seeing that it opens at one, went into a nearby cafe for lunch. The only open table was in the back so, despite our best efforts, managed to get rain on everyone.

We ate lunch shivering, watching Real Madrid score three quick goals against Getafe. First goal was a handball but the next two were beauties by Ronaldo.

Since Lisbon, there had been futebol on in almost every restaurant but we've never known who to cheer for. Today, neither team is a local one so nobody was cheering, even for Ronaldo's nice scores.

The albergue is nice-- big, warm, and clean. We draped wet things over every heater and, kind of hoping nobody else would show up, went out to explore the city.

It's a small town, most of it is based around two squares. Really though, the most interesting thing about it are the two railroad viaducts that cross high overhead.















Day 22, to Porriño, part 2

We reunited in Spain. After a very short "woo woo", we took care of business. Remember that we'd bought too much milk and juice? Well, we drank it all at breakfast. So now we took turns ducking behind a building to water the plants. During Gyueon's turn we made up. He came back and I said, "Buenas Pee-as!"

Uncomprehending silence from him. A groan from JH. I explained the meaning. Same response.

Then I explained why it was so funny. Nothing.

I explained that the normal way to show appreciation for a good joke is by laughter, not silence.

Finally! Laughter!

We barely saw Tuy in the fog. We reviewed the guidebook and winced a little, seeing that there were quite a few farm roads, dirt roads, and a "densely wooded section that is low lying and can be wet and muddy after rain" ahead. As you may recall, those have been difficult recently, especially the last one. You'll further recall that we've had a bit of rain recently.

The first 5 km or so were on asphalt northwest and it was easy, if a little dull. We weren't too worried about a turn northeast and over an unwalkable highway to our first off road section because it leads to a creek-crossing bridge, that even has a name, Puente das Febres (Bridge of Fevers).

Bridges, as you know cross things. Things such as rivers, streams, valleys, ravines, roads, rail roads, even other bridges. They go over things. Over, as in up, across, and back down. Or, if the sides are higher than the thing being crossed, simply going across is enough. That's just a regular bridge. Just imagine how much better a bridge with a name would be.

"But", you Dear Reader are saying, "I know what a bridge is. Why are you telling me this?"

I am telling you this because there seems to be confusion regarding the function of a bridge. This bridge in particular.

This bridge does not go up or over the water blocking our way. It goes DOWN into the waist deep water. It is not a bridge, it is a boat landing, suitable for a paddle boat, which the bridge builders did not provide. Perhaps they did provide a boat and it's at the bottom of this creek that their bridge doesn't cross.

We spent a long time trying to find a way around. Had I been alone, I would have stripped and waded through the cold waist deep water and probably gotten hypothermia. That was not an option for us.

To the right was nothing but water and several other streams joining. To the left there was a chance. Some people before us had built a bridge out of fallen trees and rotten logs. The last person across had obviously taken a bath, based upon what was left but there was still hope. We scrounged around and found 2 small rotting logs. Everything broke when I put a quarter if my weight on. No go. Time to back track.

By the way, the "bridge" is so named because San Telmo died of fever there in 1251 on his way back from Santiago. I almost died of frustration there.

Our map showed a dirt toad parallel to the highway (no access due to high fences) but after a 15 minute ahead and 15 minutes back on the twisting local road (a reverse double backtrack?), we couldn't find it. "Maybe we passed it before the turn into the woods.", JH suggested hopefully. I wished that were possible but geometry shows it isn't. If two straight lines intersect, then a line parallel to one must intersect the other, and we hadn't crossed any other paths.

I thought about it. We had an obstructed view of the east side of the highway so I figured that if the dirt road were small enough it would be hard to see. I needed a clear look. A bit of bush whacking gave me a glimpse of a very narrow, smooth, and dry dirt road running parallel to the highway. I couldn't see where it came from but I hypothesized that it must come from a tunnel under the highway, just ahead but out of sight. I had no idea how to get to the tunnel but decided to lead the expedition through thorn bushes and get to the dirt road. It took a long time but we made it unscathed. Well, they made it unscathed because I'd gotten a few cuts stomping the bushes.

We followed the dirt road, not knowing exactly where we were, just that the way was to the east. We cut east at our first chance and were confronted with two yellow arrows pointing in opposite directions. It turns out that the one we did did not choose was a shortcut. Oh well.

We stopped for lunch and had fantastic food. I noticed mud under the next table. Hmmm. Peregrinos? JH noticed empty espresso cups and port glasses. The Spaniards? Acting like CSI: Camino, we asked the waiter. "Yes, they left maybe 30 minutes ago. They said to expect 2 Koreans and an American.

Back under way after lunch. The trail turned off onto a wooded path of the low lying variety. Through the trees we could make out extensive flooding. It looked bad. I finally lost it. I closed my eyes and counted down from 10.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4,

I couldn't take it anymore. With a scream, I swung my hiking stick against a tree. I smiled, listening to the whomp, whomp, whomp of the broken end flying away and imagined it impaling a bridge engineer.

3, 2, 1…

I opened my eyes. I took another step. I could now see a structure that arched upward, over, and back downward, easily crossing the water. It, and I cannot stress this enough, does not slope into the water. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a bridge. Maybe I do believed in miracles afterall.

The rest of the day was a joyless trudge through an industrial area but it brought us to an excellent albergue in Porriño that we had to ourselves. Adios, Spaniards?