About Time

I have a strange relationship with time.  It may come from a background with geology, but a calendar month goes by and I think it is only a few days.  I have been back from the Caminho for five months and it seems like a few days.  I have been asked several times when this blog will be updated with the final thoughts on the Caminho and I say that I'll try to do it over the weekend.  It is just more time that slips by without a lot of notice on my part.

I paid very little attention to time when walking the Caminho.  I walked until I wanted a break, then I sat and watched my laundry dry.

 

I did pay attention to time when I got tired of getting lost.  I checked the map and set the timer on my phone, ten minutes per kilometer, for the estimated distance to the next turn.  I forget where I was that I had been walking and thinking and spent about 30 seconds appreciating that I was walking in perfect time to the tune I was hearing only to realize it was the phone timer going off.  I had made the turn and forgotten that the timer was set.

Another time I found a water fountain in a cul de sac.  It was a quiet Sunday afternoon and I was alone; I decided to stop for lunch.  I sat in the shade eating my bread and cheese when some other pilgrims came up the path and stopped.   They shared their fruit, I shared my food.   The Spanish men came by, stopped for water and walked on.  My Italian friends came by and I offered them some of my food.  By the time I left there were close to ten people sitting there.  I walked on with the Italians and it wasn't 20 minutes later that we walked into Caldas de Reis, our stop for the night.

Here I was, stopped for the day and it was barely 2pm.  I had my laundry done and the blog post started, Jasmine had come by and we went out for food, I took a dozen pictures of the bridge, thermal springs, and church dedicated to Thomas Becket before 4pm.  I took got talking with another pilgrim and missed the 5pm pilgrim's service at Becket's church.

 I have regrets regarding my walk.  Missing the pilgrim's blessing at the church of Thomas Becket in Caldas de Reis is one of them.

It took me a few days  to figure out how to deal with my amazing ability to get lost in every city I passed through.  I wasn't bothered by being lost, as long as I kept going north I would be going in roughly the right direction.  I had GPS on my phone so I could always figure out where I was.  The problem was connecting my location with the map I was following.

Early in the walk I had missed a turn.  I walked up a long hill and into a small grocery store.  I was aiming for a river crossing that was supposed to be near by, but Google Maps was telling me to walk a mile up to the highway.  I stopped and pulled out some food while I considered my options.  I man went by on a motorcycle, stopped, turned around and walked me down to the turn to the foot bridge over the river:

As a first time tourist in Europe I found I have an amazing ability to get lost in almost every city I walked through.  As a first time pilgrim I am amazed at the generosity of total strangers who stopped me and went out of their way to put me back on the path.

Still, none of this has anything to do with wrapping up a blog on the Caminho Portuguese.  I got up at 5:30am to take a shower and catch a cab to the airport for 8am flight..  The trip home was mostly uneventful.  I made the all the flights.  The last connection from Heathrow to Seattle was delayed.  I spent the extra time pacing, afraid that I would fall asleep if I sat down.  The flight itself included a child that cried and whined the entire flight.  She was two rows away. Not many people slept in that section of the plane.

The flight landed and I got through customs only to be stuck at another luggage carousel.  Five bags came out and all of them were claimed by the flight crew.  An announcement came on saying there was a problem with the carousel and to wait 15 minutes.  Half an hour later two more bags came out.  I kept pacing, I would have been asleep in seconds if I sat down.  I tried walking along the seams of the tiles and found I was so tired I couldn't walk a straight line.  Eventually someone said that the flight was "light", a lot of the luggage didn't make the flight from London.  There were a couple of airport officials who were passing a list back and forth.  It was the people whose bags were still in London.  A passenger asked what it was, then asked if he could see it.  They gave it to him and he started reading it out loud.  Another baggage official grabbed it out of his hands and said it was confidential information.

OK, I'm not really thinking straight after being awake for about 24 straight hours, but you have 150 people standing around for over an hour thinking it is just a problem with the luggage carousel and you expect them to come up to two anonymous people and ask to see a list of the luggage that hadn't made the flight?  Really?  Five minutes later the list is being read over the loud speaker.  I'm on the list.  I fill out a form and am told my bag will be delivered to my home tomorrow.  The security people stopped all passengers from using their cell phones.  Had I been able to check my phone I would have seen a message from the airline that arrived a few minutes after we got to the luggage claim stating my bag wasn't on the plane.

I get home.  I go to sleep.  I wake up at 2am.  I look at my photos for a few hours then I walk my dogs.  I'm back into my daily routine.

What do you want to know about walking the Caminho?  You need to trust.

The arrows directed me up the front steps of someone's house.  I wasn't very comfortable with that so I walked down to the left, but it was a dead end.  I came back and saw the second arrow at the top just left of the door.  I got to the top of the stairs and found a path that went around the side of the house that was obviously intended for people going to Santiago.  They had a plaque with St James and the cathedral right next to a fine path.

The Caminho is what it is.  Accept it.

Pontevedra is one place I thought I could wander around and explore, but there was some sort of a race though town this day.  Some of us got up to spend time at the church, but it was locked well after the posted open time.  The race course was marked with bright tape outlining a corridor down narrow streets.  There were some cops telling people to stay off the course. We pilgrims had to duck under tape, cross the street, and duck under some more tape.  Someone's pack got stuck on the tape and pulled it loose.  They paused, expecting a lecture from the cops. They got waived on with a "Buen Camino" instead.

This is the bridge you cross to leave Pontevedra, it is marked with the pilgrim scallop shells  It looks like a lovely, peaceful morning.  Perfect for thinking and self reflection except for the sports stadium just out of frame to the right where a bunch of Germans were preparing for the races by singing at the top of their lungs.

I was glad to get out of there.

You will be welcomed.

This school has greetings in two dozen languages.  The teacher leaned out the window and gave us a wave. 

 Less than five kilometers from Santiago I passed another school.  There were dozens of kids outside and two teachers.  I crossed the street so I wouldn't have to wade through the mass of first graders.  They also crossed the street in a single file line holding hands with the kids in front and behind.  I slowed down so I wouldn't have to break through their line.  The last kid in line looked up the street and saw me.  He started jumping up and down and waving at me, shouting "Peregrina" and "Buen Caminno, peregrina".  Pretty soon there were five or six kids doing the same thing.  It was really, really sweet.

Should you walk the Camino?  Anyone can learn from the Camino and just about anyone can walk the Camino, but I'm not sure everyone should walk the Camino.  If you want to know what it is like spend a day around the cathedral watching pilgrims arrive, sit at a restaurant outside the Pilgrim's Office and listen to the conversations.  If you want everything to be just so, the Camino probably isn't going to be for you.  If you are worried about walking distances then you may want to walk a week on the French Route or join an organized group.  Or see if there is a pilgrim group in your area that you can join for a walk.

Bom Caminho

Almost Home

All that is between me and home is some time, a taxi and three plane rides.

I tried following the directions for the walk that enters the town where the five gates to the old city used to be.  The direction said to go left out of the park onto a certain street.  Well, they don't put street signs on the park end of dead end streets and there were several options.  I, of course, chose the wrong one.  I wandered the town some and found my way to the university.   I went back and sat in three of the four squares around the cathedral.

This is my favorite one for just sitting and watching the cathedral:

It is at the eastern end.  There is a massive convent behind you with a bench that runs the entire length.  The roof guide said it had ties to both Celtic and Roman burial grounds.  This was the first day there wasn't annoying jazz being played.

The western side is the one facing the main cathedral entrance.  It is generally crowed with tourists and pilgrim groups.

The south side is the only one that does not have a Baroque facade and the Romanesque structure is still visible.

There are usually street performers here.  I came out the door this afternoon to the sounds of "Minstrel Boy".  They sang and juggled through several songs, then claimed to be a group of American seminary students who had walked the camino without any money.  Funny thing is that their repertoire came straight from the Clancey & Makem albums, right down to breaking up words into slightly different syllables than Americans use.  I would have thrown some change into their hat if they hadn't lied to me.  

There seems to be a schedule for the performers around the church.  I caught a shift change once or twice.  If this group was performing, they were doing it on the schedule location and at the scheduled time.

This was another of my favorite places to sit:

It is outside the Franciscan church.  It is down below street level and has free wifi.

The line at the pilgrim's office has grown everyday that I've been here. Today it was out the door and down the street.  I took me over an hour and I started ten feet inside the door.  Those people in the street are probably waiting three hours or more.

Now I just need to repack the pack, shower and try to get some sleep.  I am ready to be home.

What To Do?

I had no real plan for today other than to sleep in.  The pilgrims from the Portuguese route got together in Obradoiro Square last night.  We had thought we would go out for a drink to celebrate, but there were way more people than we thought and not all of the cohort showed up.  There were 20 or more people and we had trouble finding a place to hold us all.  When we did it didn't have any vegetarian options and my Italian friends don't eat meat.  They were the ones I cared most about so we went elsewhere and had our own celebration.  It was a late night by camino standards, we were back at the hostal around 11pm.

This morning I got my Compostela.  The woman took my credential and the registration sheet, hit a few keys on the computer, asked the guy next to her how to put my name into Latin.  I couldn't follow his reply, but she hit a few more keys, wrote something, and asked if I also wanted a certificate of distance. I walked a combination of routes, the shortest was 258 km, I got lost and, when given an option, took the longer scenic route.  Any number I gave her would have to be an educated guess.  I declined the distance certificate.  I was, however, quite disappointed to find my name had not been converted to Latin.

I took my Compostela and started towards the Franciscan church to get their Compostela (2014 is the 800th anniversary of Francis of Assissi's walk, so this is quite a rare thing to have) and very quickly found myself hugging Giovanni, someone I met through Cate.  He had just been to headbutt the saint and say a prayer at the crypt.

He hadn't heard about the Franciscan Compostela.  He ran back to his hotel to get his credential while I went to headbutt a statute.  Tradition dictates that pilgrims thank the saint for successfully completing the journey (they hug or rest their head on a gold plated statue) then pay their respects to his remains.

Giovanni is from Umbria and was quite moved to receive the Franciscan certificate.  Here are my two Franciscan stamps, the Herbon monestery on the left and Francis of Assissi's on the right:

I stopped in for the pilgrims mass, but couldn't really get into it.  All the seats were taken so I was sitting on the base of a pillar.  I was standing when he congregation stood and sitting when they sat, but then someone moved into my seat during one of the standing bits, so I left to do this:

The roof tour is the coolest thing to do in Santiago.  A guide takes you up 115 stairs and gives you a tour from the roof of the cathedral.  It takes a while to get used to the slant.  If you are ever in Santiago this is a must.  Plus there is a discount for pilgrims.

I bought some bread and cheese and headed for a picnic dinner with a view:

Now I know that the ratchett tower is the one being cleaned and repaired. The bell tower and facade will be next, followed by the clock tower and aspe dome, and lastly the cloister towers.

It is kind of cool to walk around this city and hear the different churches chime the time.  I think it is something I will miss when I get home.

My home while in Santiago is here:

After climbing the hill it is only 70 steps up to my floor.

I Have Arrived

The Portuguese route people met in front of the cathedral this evening.  Most went to dinner together, but Cate and Challa are vegetarian, so we went elsewhere.  My Italian sisters walk on to Finisterre tomorrow.  Their friends, another Italian and a French man, joined us. It was a good end to the Caminho.

If you do this walk, the albergue (now we are in Spain it is pronounce al-BER-goo) at Herbon IS NOT TO BE MISSED.  Once the doors opened Paco, the host, gave a long speech in Spanish.  Nu-Nu, a Portuguese lawyer, translated it as "Now we sign in."  Nu-Nu is left, Paco is right.

The whole evening turned into kind of a Paco and Nu-Nu show, but don't let me get ahead if myself.

Once we were signed in, showered, and done with laundry, Paco said the grounds were open to explore.  While everyone else went to the pond to soak their feet, I went into the cloister and cemetery and church.  The church is locked to the outside, so when I came through the side door I kind of surprised a man there  setting up for the Saint Antoino festival that begins shortly, soon to be followed by the San Benito festival.  I helped him move the electronic votives across the sanctuary.  He, unlike Paco, spoke quite good English.  I wandered the cemetery and cloisters taking photos, then went back to sit with the other ten or so guests.

Before dinner Paco took us on a tour.  There used to be a priest living there that would say a special blessing for the pilgrims.  The Franciscan order pulled him about two months ago.  There is a lot of uncertainty about what will happen to the monestery now that there are no more monks.  It used to be a boarding school and facility for training handicapped children, now a developer has made an offer for the property.  The Catholic church has given the Galician pilgrims association authority to run it as long as they can do so without running a deficit.

Paco showed us the fields where the famous Padron peppers were first cultivated and explained that the monks were a bit naive and allowed nearby Padron to trademark the name of the pepper.  That is why you hear of Paddon Pimentos or Peppers, instead of the more accurate Herbon Peppers.

Pimentos de Herbon growing where they were first cultivated.

On the feast day of St Antonio the whole community attends mass.  It sounded like it was celebrated back to back all day long, then followed by a massive dinner held in the priest's dining hall.

They let the community dine in peace, no one preaches from the built in pulpit (Anders is German and seemed to like getting between the camera and whatever I was trying to shoot).

We returned to have dinner together.  Paco told long, elaborate stories which had all the Portuguese rolling with laughter.  The translation provided by Nu-Nu frequently involved Schnapps as a solution to almost all problems a pilgrim faces.  We shared a bottle of homemade wine, we shared some schnapps, we did the dishes.   The next morning we made our donations and walked on.

Entering Santiago is amazingly anti-climatic.  Walking through subdivision after subdivision is rarely a treat.  I found my way to the cathedral and started wandering around it.  I came around a corner and heard a street musician playing Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah".  I had enough sense left to pull out my camera and video it.  It was a perfect way to walk around for my first sight of the main cathedral square.

The line was over an hour long at the Pilgrim's office.  I will have to return tomorrow morning.

My caminho is nearly done.  I wish you all bom caminho or buen camino.

I Met My Family

On the Camino. I was told that you will meet the same people in albergues every night and have meals with them, and stop in the same bars for breakfast with them - that they would become your Camino family.   I met my Camino family in Mos.

My first night in an albergue with other walkers was awful.  A German smoker and I talked while I tried to hurry my laundry drying.  He was doing 40-50 km a day and only had three more days to finish the walk.  We were the only ones without a family, he because of the distance he was walking, me because I had been along the coast.

The next day I stumbled into Mos and Jasmine gave me some food, Cate worried about my feet, the Spanish guys rearranged the laundry rack so I had space for my clothes.  My feet were again discussed at lunch the next day (they really are doing better, actually, than I had expected).  After lunch was the roughest climb of the walk, steep with boulders and sun.  When I made it to the top I immediately flopped down and pulled out my water, the Spanish guy went into the woods and Cate watched the trail.  Chala made it and was given water.  Cate headed back down the trail to find the second Spaniard (although I understand that he is actually Castillian).

Last.night I was like this outside the albergue-

When I heard, "I knew I recognized those feet!"  Jasmine, who had booked a hotel for the night, had come to find company for lunch.

Tonight we are all staying different places - Jasmine at the albergue in Padron, Chala and Cate at the albergue in Teo, and me at the albergue in Herbon - but tomorrow night we will meet in front of the cathedral and go out for dinner to celebrate.

This morning I heard distinctly American accents and met my first Americans, Erica and Aaron, who live on the outskirts of Ballard.

As soon as the route crosses into Spain you start seeing these markers:

The points on the scallop are the direction to walk, the numbers show the km left to Santiago.  It is about 20 km from Padron and Herbon is another one or two from Padron.

This is my home for the night - 

A Franciscan convent where they cook dinner and breakfast for you.  There are no more nuns here and the padre that used to do the special pilgrims blessing left last year.  So far it is me and five Germans waiting for the doors to open at 16:00.  We sit or sleep on the steps or on the grass.  We watch the swallows fly.  We wait, but we do not talk.

Tomorrow - Santiago.

How Camino Oriented Are They Here?

I've seen these in a couple of cities since my first day in Spain:

The scallop shell is the symbol of the pilgrim.  Pilgrims used to continue from Santiago to the coast and pick up a scallop shell to prove they completed the walk.  There, of course, were vendors that would bring shells inland and sell to pilgrims.  One of the guys in Portugal gave me a shell and told me to wash it.  He said that to stop the cheating the officials in Santiago would ask the pilgrims to bring their shell back from the coast and they would stamp it with the cross of St James.  Today we gather stamps in our credential proving that we have walked at least 100 km, but there are still cheats who take a  bus or taxi,

Jasmine was one of the first ones out of the albergue this morning andi is a fast walker.  She said she passed a certain pair seven km from Caldas del Reis, when one of them was still in the albergue when I left 45 minutes after Jasmine.  So they not only passed me and Jasmine without either of us seeing them, they also walk faster than one of the fastest people on the trail.  There are lots of stories from the pilgrims about people lying to get their pilgrim certificate.  That has always confused me.  That is basically lying to God, isn't it?  And isn't that usually considered a bad idea?

Saint James is often depicted as a pilgrim with a staff and a gourd for water, see:

Caldas del Reis is nice.  The albergue is kind of a dump, but is on the stream.

Today was an easy 23 km.  I was showered and done with laundry before 3 pm.  There are two more easy days, about 44 km total, to go.

How To Walk

The one day of rain I was walking on cobbles in Portugal.  I was taking baby steps and still slipping and catching myself with my pole.  I was going carefully up hill when I saw an old woman carrying an umbrella in one hand and a bag in the other coming down hill without any problem.  She was walking with a rolling gate.  I tried to copy it.  Knees slightly bowed out, rolling from side to side with each step and I had no more slipping. 

Today was dry, but there were several steep descents.  I tried the old lady rolling stride again and it worked again.

The best walking surface so far has been the boardwalk on the first few days by the beach.  It flexes just little as you step and it doesn't wear on you like pavement.  Next is the forest walking.  Third is the Portuguese stone pavement.  Kind of like this, but with smaller gaps between the stones.

The stones are unevenly cut or set so you aren't putting pressure on the same spots with every step.  If you take a couple dozen chopsticks, cut them in half, scatter them in a confined space like a bathroom and walk across them in your boots you might get the feeling.  The stones aren't so uneven that you'll twist an ankle, just uneven enough to be surprisingly gentle on your feet.

My feet were discussed at lunch today.  The two Italians and two Spaniards who stayed in the same albergue in Mos with me had plenty of opinions.  My silk liner socks got some of the blame.  I was told that silicon was better, my boots were too small, and I'm not letting my feet air enough all in sign language and a few words of English.  The Italian women did have some foot cream that did seem to help one spot.

Lunch was a bocodillo, a ham and cheese sandwich.  I finally filled a page in my pilgrim passport, so it is included, too.

I'm in a large albergue outside of Pontrevedra.  It was much nicer with a small group of people last night in Mos.

Next task is finding the store.  Tomorrow is Sunday and most things are going to be closed.

The Toughest Thing You'll Ever Do

I have heard that chdbirth is the toughest thing you can ever do.   I have also heard that the Camino is the toughest thing you can choose to do.  The difference is that on the Camino you always have an option, excuse maybe, not to continue.  Yesterday a bus stopped for me, today the way went past several taxi stands, in Portugal there was a rail line always close by, in Spain the highway is here.  I made the 16 km to Porrino by 1:30.  There was an albergue right as I hit town.  I stopped in and asked how far it was to the next one.  He said it was seven kilometers and said it was a good choice if I had that much walking left in me.  It would put me a quarter of the way up the only significant hill and it was about what I had done every other day.  I went for it.  

I somehow managed to blister my right heel yesterday and it was really rubbing today.  The cobbles that I learned to enjoy in Portugal are gone, replaced by asfalt.  I went through my water faster today than any other.  I was done.   The guidebook said the albergue was in  town with the Mary Magdelen font.  The village was long and straight.  I reached the water and sat down.  If anyone had come along and offered me a ride at that point there is a very good chance my Camino would have been done.  Instead i took of my boots and socks and held my feet out to air.  The albergue is right across the street from the bar.  Jasmine, a German pilgrim helped translate so I could get my bunk at the albergue paid, then she shared a slice of her torta with me.  The Camino beats you down and builds you back up every day.

The view from the albergue:

The difference between Portugal and Spain:

The fields are both lined with grapes, but are fallow in Spain and planted with crops in Portugal.

The walking is better in Portugal,  but I only have one day experience.  There is still a lot of walking to do around 96 km to go.

Another 30km Day

Oh, and it was raining, see?

I got pretty good at controlling the rain today.  I put the jacket on and the rain stopped, I took the jacket off and the rain started up again.  One tip for people thinking of doing the camino - stuff your pack full and put water bottles on both sides THEN try to put the rain fly on.  I unloaded and reloaded my pack a few times before I could get the fly to stick, even then it slipped off the top when I put the straps over my shoulders.

Yesterday I had sun during one of my breaks and got my clothes totally dry.  No such luck today.  I am in Valenca, wearing damp clothes, after another 30km day, with a bunch of French, German, and Portuguese pilgrims.  The dorm room stinks!

If you are interested in doing the camino, and then are interested in doing a walk in Portugal, and then are interested in a coastal route I would certainly recommend the last two days -Viana do Castelo to Caminha and Caminha to Valenca.  Even with the rain and the distance it was an incredible walk.

Of course the way didn't go past all the cool stuff.  This tower was a few blocks up hill.

It did pass the entrance to a ritzy hotel outside Vila Nova de Cerviera, a big, locked gate, long driveway, sort of place, then curved around a path right next to it.  There was a gate accessing the place, but it was locked.  I guess damp, sweaty walkers aren't their target clientele.

The path went over a couple of medieval bridges, but the photos didn't really work out.   I've decided that the public laundry, you know, the ones with the stone tubs, are the perfect place for lunch.  They are covered and you can put your feet up.  Here is lunch today -

Sardines, bread and chocolate.  Sorry, pictures of the laundry are on the camera.

I cross into Spain tomorrow.  It is about 118 km to go. I've got one more long day then it is all 20 or so km days until Santiago.

What Can I Say About Today?

I have I pulled out my rain jacket for the first time.

I was misled by a local. 

I was able to ask a question and understand the response (mostly) in Portuguese.

I met two very nice supporters of the caminho.

I felt real pain. 

Last night, what with one thing and another, I didn't get to spend my ten minutes with my feet against the wall.  This is a yoga pose that one of my co- workers showed me.  I had been doing it every night and have had no real issues with my feet.  Today, however, they hurt.  I tried doing the pose when I got to the albergue in Caminha, but had trouble holding it for even five minutes.  Never, ever again.  The feet are going up no matter what!

I managed the distance pretty well.  I've started using the timer on the phone to measure my progress.  If there is a turn in 3/10 of a kilometer, set the timer for three minutes and watch for it.  If there is a font in two km the timer is set for 20 minutes.  I was on a long, staight stretch (timer set for two hours) going into Caminha when a guy pulled up on a bike and asked if I was a pilgrim for Santiago.  I said I was and he said I have a stamp for your credential and information on the route ahead.  He got back on his bike and told me he would wait for me in the little chapel up ahead.  His name is Carlos and he has walked the caminho at least 13 times.  He lives on the trail and has his own stamp that he gives to any pilgrim he can find.  He has a Facebook page dedicated to the pictures he has taken of the pilgrims.   He seemed surprised when I said that I already had his Facebook information.  The map I'm using had a marker and Carlos' information with the word sello (Spanish for stamp).  He gave me detailed instructions on getting to the albergue (if the door is locked go to the snack bar around the corner, ask for Paulo, and he will give you the key, only waste time calling the number on the door if Paulo is not available).

I followed his instructions and was trying to get my feet up when the albergue host showed up.  He is another caminho addict.  Both are members of the Viana do Castelo pilgrims association.  I didn't get the name of the second man, but he seemed convinced I would become an serial caminoist.  Anna, the host from last night seemed to think the same thing, too.  Hmmm.

I have it on good authority that today's walk was the prettiest of the whole way, French route included.  There was a medieval bridge-

-and a sign midway up a long slog-

I have about 143 km to go.

What Else Cam I Say?

Yes, I had a hard time staying on the trail this afternoon, but it wasn't my fault.  

One of the hazards of walking the Senda Litoral is that you are close to the beach, and the beach has sand and wind.  Together they managed to take out the boardwalk.  Instead of backtracking the considerable distance I had already walked I switched to the forest path that went the same direction.  

The first problem was that it was mostly sand.  Walking in loose sand is hard.  The trail kept going up and down dunes.  I was taking small steps and sliding back; I sped up trying to cut down on the backsliding.  It was pretty much a stairmaster.

I was really relieved when the trail hit flat ground.  Or at least I was until the trail disappeared.  I pulled out the phone and pulled up a map.  It showed me that I was really close to a trail or road that looped out of the park.  I head off that way, boldly disregarding the signs that said keep out and do not enter because their backs were to me as I went forward.  I bush wack for 50 feet or so when I come to the junction.  It was a stream ten feet down steep banks and too wide to jump. 

I resigned myself to backtracking through the stairmaster dunes.  Ignoring the front sides of the warning signs, I made my way back to the remains of the trail.  I got there just in time to see a jogger go over a faint trail I one of the dunes.  I followed them and found the boardwalk again!

I'm in an albergue (here it is pronounced al-BERG) with Viktor, a Portugues pilgrim who is walking the coast back from Finisterre.  There is a large church that is on a hill overlooking the city.  I saw it while crossing the bridge.  I'm told that Viana do  Castelo is a beautiful town and is worth spending time here.  I'm also told that tomorrow is a 30 km day, three or four hours longer than today, according to Anna who works at the albergue.  Ha!  If only she knew that 30 km has been my average.  

Done: 85km at least

To go: 170 km or so

This is the poster hanging in the dorm room.  It cracked me up.

To Quote Homer Simpson...

Doh!

I just checked the distance on the map against the one in the guide.  For yesterday's walk the guide said 27km, the map I'm attempting to follow says 41km.  My plan was for 25 km per day.  According to the map I've averaged closer to 32 km.   No wonder it's taking longer and I'm more tired than I should be!

I passed a popular surfing area this morning.  They have a whole series of these booths for changing and storage.  No one was out riding the waves when I went by.  This surfer would have been interesting to watch.

Speaking A Foreign Language

I came to expect a certain response from people in Lisbon and Porto when I tried to speak Portuguse to them.  They smile.  They nod. They respond by asking if I would like to speak English.  Sometimes they even go so far as to claim that they understood what I was trying to say.  Then I get into the smaller places, a bakery or store in a smaller town and they just look confused when I try to say something as simple as hello.  I have always had a problem with pronunciation and it just gets worse when I try to speak any other language.  It is frustrating, but something I expected. 

What I didn't expect was the problems following the yellow arrows.  It seems there is a bit of a conflict between the Camino da Coastal people and those of the Senda Litoral.  Dispite it's name, the Camino da Coastal doesn't always follow the coast.  It takes wide loops inland to go by a church or something.  Whereas the Senda Litoral follows the coast as closely as possible.   Today, for example, I followed the arrows down a dirt road through a eucalyptus forest to a soccer stadium, then more forest and a school.  They took me through a town bypassing all businesses so I couldn't restock my snacks.  Coming into Esposende  tonight the arrows insisted that I cross on the south side of a round-about so as to miss all the direction markers for the cars coming into town, then take you down an alley to go past a church.   What I really needed to see was the direction marker for the tourist information building.  I know this is very un-pilgrimlike, but screw the arrows from now until I join the main route, I'll follow the maps I downloaded.  It should save me about five km per day.

I kept crossing paths with a French couple today.  They had extra time after finishing thieir camino so decided to walk the coast north from Porto as much as possible before they go home.  They didn't have a guidebook or even whatseems  like a map, but were going towards water whenever they could.  I last saw them headed for the beach right before a golf course that my sources said was impassible.

Not many pictures today because the forests and farm lands aren't all that pretty.  This is a stone cross where I headed inland to avoid some sand walking and got kidnapped  by the coastal route arrows.

I have no idea how far I walked today, but the marker about three km ago said 201 to Santiago, so I'll go with 60 down and 198 to go.

That Didn't Feel Like 12 Miles

My first full day walking.  The maps said it was about 20 km, but it feels like more. I walked from 9:30 to 5:30 with two stops and I was done  about three km from Vila do Comde.   The map must be wrong.  I didn't get lost today, I just accidentally decided to follow the wheelchair route instead of the regular one. That had to add a kilometer or ten to the total. 

I was tired and grumpy when I finally arrived in Vila do Conde. All issues melted away when I stumbled into Evora's Tea and Guest House. She showed me to the room and the bathroom is bigger than the ones in the two hotels combined.  She also provides free breakfast for pilgrims.  She is wonderful   

I finally has a chance to wander around town.  There are old churches on almost every  block, there are parks and squares every few blocks, and a huge sundial on the riverside.  I promise you will be incredibly bored with the photos if you are ever dumb enough to ask to see them.  Wandering meant that I was still up and moving when the early dinners were served at 8pm.  Until now I had been living off of sandwiches and fruit that was easy to pick up and transport (no, I don't mean McDonalds).  Tired  now and going to sleep.   Here is the park with the huge sundial. 

Km done: 34 or so

Km to go: 124 or so

First Steps

I was prepared to fall in love with Lisbon and tolerate Porto.   I think I got it backwards.  Don't get me wrong, I really liked what I saw of Lisbon, I just didn't have time to see even the top few things on my list so decided not to be bothered by what I wouldn't see.  Porto, however, has surprised me from the start.  

I was getting ready for bed Friday night when I checked to see when the tourist information office would open on Saturday.  Their webpage took me to a listing of events.  That page said there would be 3D mapping at city hall on Friday every half hour from 10pm to 1am.  I checked to see where city hall was and it was 6/10 of a kilometer away. I threw on shoes and asked the reception desk for directions.  They said they didn't know of any events, implying it was a waste of time, but gave me directions.  (If you haven't heard of 3D mapping check YouTube for the one done at Santiago de Compostela.)  The show wasn't as intense as I expected, but it was being done for the Saint John festivities so I am giving them a break. 

Saturday morning I headed for the cathedral.  I turned the corner just a block from city hall and the cathedral was revealed, seated on the top of a slow sweeping hill with fortress like walls.   Even the dozen tour busses couldn't diminish the moment.  Lisbon's cathedral was surrounded and dominated by the buildings around it; Porto's was something that took your breath away. 

I followed the yellow arrows for about five minutes when I came to another church with tremendous views of the city.  I wandered a few minutes and came across a street market, but then chose to visit another church first and never got back to the market.  The church, right across the street from another church, led me to the river walk.  A few hours later I was at Matasinhos, a 20 minute subway ride from my hotel. 

Tomorrow I'll jump the subway back and start walking.  

Here is the Rio Douro where it enters the Atlantic Ocean.  

Twelve km down, 245 to go.

Navigating

I find it difficult to navigate without a familiar reference point. I ended up seeing a whole chunk of residential areas unintentionally in Lisbon and in Porto I took what I thought was a right and it turned out to be straight ahead. Kind of like making three lefts instead of a right.  It did allow me to find a neat church that I want to go back and photograph tomorrow. 

I heard that there are now yellow arrows showing the way along the coastal route and, based on my initial experiences in Lisbon and Porto, I will really need them.

I did a wander through the Rossio district before catching the train to Porto. I picked up a credential at the Lisbon cathedral and got their stamp. It is in Spanish. I'm tempted to go to the Porto cathedral to see if theirs are any different. 

First stop tomorrow is the tourist information office for a listing of pilgrim lodgings along the coast. 

Here is the view for the next two nights -

Better?

What's The Worst That Could Happen?

Before I left on this adventure several people tried to boost my confidence by asking, "what is the worst that can happen?"  They usually  cited loss of pack.  Second was a missed flight.

I had 55 minutes between scheduled  flights. The trans Atlantic flight landed15 minutes late.  My connection was in a different terminal, I had to go through customs, and get rescreened, but they had handy signs that said it was only 22 minutes walk to J terminal. The plane was still at the gate  when I got there, but the door had closed.

Two hours later I'm on the next flight.  Is it normal for planes to lurch sideways while moving down the runway?  At luggage claim the belt stopped with about 20 people still waiting.  We were told to wait ten minutes and the bags would be released.  Sure enough two bags came out.  We were told to file missing luggage reports.  You could see those staff people were not about to fill out all those forms!  Some sort of manager came out and said our pallet of luggage had been selected for rescreening and it would be released within 30 minutes. 

On the plus side I have successfully used the subway and made it to the hotel, showered, washed the clothes I had been wearing since 4am on Wednesday, am about to go for a walk.

I get a kick from my hotel room view-

Training

I have been walking home from work in a vain attempt to replicate the conditions and distances I expect to encounter on the camino.  The Portuguese route is infamous for the amount of pavement walking.  The walk home from work is all city streets.  The Portuguese route requires 20-25km (about 12-15 miles) or more most days.  The walk home is about seven miles, plus I do anther three or four without the pack.  

This is Tuesday, waiting to cross the street a little more than  three miles from home.  This is the last light to wait for and marks the change from relatively busy streets to quiet, residential streets.  The walking always seems to come easier after this point.  It shouldn't be - it is the end of the miles, you're hot, you're tired, things ache, and there are only two places to stop between here and home if there are any problems.  On the camino it seems that you stop for coffee, snacks or meals frequently.  I once offended a pilgrim by saying that I was planning on getting most of my miles done in the AM with just three or four done after lunch.  "But then you'll miss second breakfast!" was her response.

This is is pretty much the complete gear set up I'll take to Portugal.  All was well and good until I carried home a sleeping bag loaned to me by a coworker.  The bag weighed almost nothing in my hand, but tie it on and all of a sudden my pack was staggeringly heavy!  I huffed and puffed going up hills that had given me no trouble on the prior days.  I felt the weight on my knees from the moment I left the office.  I must have looked awful because cars, at street crossings where you usually have to wait for several cars to pass before crossing, were stopping well back from the intersection and waiving me across.  Yet I got home, washed the sweat and dirt off, rinsed my walking clothes, and put my feet up and I felt no different from the prior days.

All that is left is to go through the gear and take out the items that aren't truly needed (do I need a headlamp when the phone gives off plenty of light?) and replace heavier items with lighter ones (what is the weight difference between a five litre and ten litre waterproof bag?).  And print the maps.  And figure out how to deal with the eight hour time difference.  And buy the train ticket from Lisbon to Porto.  And make a bag to hold my pack and pole.  And treat said bag so it will protect my pack from bedbugs.  And, and, and...

One Question Everybody Asks

I am going to walk the Caminho to Santiago.
I am going to walk from Porto, Portugal.
I will have a camera with me.

That seems to be the minimum amount of information needed before I hear some version of the question "Are you going to blog?"

I've been asked this by friends and strangers, people who have actually read some of what I write and people who have never read a word I've written.  Basically, people who should know better and people with no idea.  In deference to the former, this is for you.

The Pack

Not bored yet?  Well, keep going.  I'm going to start talking about gear.  Why?  Because those are the questions that frequently come on the heels of the one about blogging.

My pack is the REI Lookout 40 liter (for those of you reading outside of the US that translates as a 40 litre pack).  I got it because it was on sale, bigger than my day to day pack, and had a hip belt I could fasten.  Really, that is about all the research I did.

It took me forever to decide on a rain jacket.  The Gore-Tex jacket I have and use daily takes up too much room in the pack.  Other than that I have no real complaints about its performance.  When I decided I needed something else for the Caminho I read reviews, compared weights, talked to salesmen and spent a lot of time trying on every jacket I could find.  I finally found one that was on just about every top performance list, tons (or tonnes, if you prefer) of positive reviews, and had almost all the features I wanted, including packing up nice and small.  As a bonus it was a model from the prior year so it was half price.  It wasn't my first choice of colors, or even colours, but that was way down low on the list of criteria.  I've worn it on three walks home from work and the thing, despite manufacturer and reviewer claims to the contrary, doesn't breathe.

The three trips were in steady rain, light rain, and breezy conditions.  The pit zippers were closed and wide open, same with the cuffs.  The front was fully or partly zipped, open, and fully or partly closed just with velcro.  The setup didn't matter, the sweat didn't get out.  Although, in the interests of full disclosure, it was better on the dry but blustery day when I could turn one side to the wind and raise my arm so the breeze blew in the pit zipper and down the sleeve.

Oh, well.  It does keep the rain out and it was on sale.