A Gorgeous Day in Galicia

I was woken early. Through the curtain on my bunk, I could smell alcohol, someone reeking of alcohol. “My pack, my credential, it’s all been stolen.” I looked at the time – 6:00am. Do I just get up, I asked myself. “Screw the FBI, screw the CIA.” This drunk French guy is really starting to wind up. I could hear the nervous voice of a female, then another. I drew back the curtain and the drunk French guy was semi naked and struggling to climb into his bunk. I was up and packed within a few minutes, as were the other women.

From the albergue, it was only a few metres to the start of the Camino to Fisterra and Muxia. I was hungry and in need of a coffee on what was a cool and gloomy morning in Santiago. As I wandered around, nothing was open. I guess just after 6:00am on a Sunday morning is not prime cafe time.

The Way snaked its way down through small, hidden valleys and up over hills covered in pine and eucalyptus forest. It was intoxicating to be walking in the cool silence, not a pilgrim in sight. Soon I got my last glimpse of the Catherdal grandly standing on the near horizon. Even from here it has a magic about it, its spires like sirens calling you back to the city.

I really wanted a walking stick, but balked at buying one in Santiago for 4 or 5 days of walking. As I was walking through eucalyptus forest, I somehow knew that the Camino would provide. Sure enough, just before a steep and rocky descent, I found the perfect branch to use as my staff. With a little bush trimming, it was a good length and felt balanced in my hand.

It was several kilometres and early two hours before the first cafe appeared. Like an oasis, it had a handful of pilgrims, drawn to the freshly squeezed orange juice and hot coffee. I ordered both along with a Camino staple, the Napolitan aka a pain au chocolate. It was delightful and suddenly I was feeling like a pilgrim once more.

Refreshed, I wandered another few kilometres downhill to Cafe 79km. I enjoyed another cafe con leche and met a Swedish pilgrim, Daniel. From the cafe, the Camino immediately started a long steep climb. The climb was made easier as Daniel and I took our time and chatted. He is 45 and I couldn’t help noticing a tattoo on his arm that read – FUCK CANCER. Several years ago he was diagnosed with testicular cancer. His treatment and recovery was very difficult. He was in a coma for 9 days and then had to learn to walk again. The end of his recovery was a promise to walk the Camino which he did in 2017. Like many pilgrims, he was hooked and vowed to return. In 2017 he ended in Santiago, this year he took a lot more time off and after walking to Fisterra and Muxia and then back to Santiago, he is walking the Portuguese Camino. All up, he will walk well over 1,000km on various Camino.

As the morning gathered steam, the early morning cloud Bega to burn away and the temperature rose. We were lucky to be walking along cobbled pathways through a forest of green. My initial though had been to walk to Negreira, a little over 21km, have lunch and see how I felt. Daniel liked this idea. In his words, having good company was making the walking easier today. If we felt okay, we could push on to the 30km mark, making the next few days that much easier.

Guns of some sort were being randomly discharged as we walked up the final, very hot, hill into Negreira. On the outskirts of town a large stage had been erected and various horn players were warming up. It looked liked the local were firing up to tie one on. They had that look about them as they gathered and drank.

As we dropped into the Main Street, there was a restaurant on the left. “This looks okay,” said Daniel. “Sorry mate,” I replied, Hamez, Mikal, Mads and I had a rule last year, never stay in the first albergue or eat at the first restaurant.” “Why?” “They don’t have to try very hard.” “That makes sense.” We made our way up the street to a restaurant. “This looks good,” I said. Daniel looked at all the Michelin awards, then the price list and shook his head. We trudged on.

A little further up the street was O’Seixo Taberna. We looked at the price list – Special Hamberguesa 4.50. “This will do,” Daniel said with a grin.

As we waited for our hamburgers with egg and bacon, we were treated to a small tapas of warm harm with a spicy sauce on a bed of potato fries. Sounds unappealing, but tasted sensational. The hamburgers were of the same standard, tasty and well cooked. It was a sign. I looked at my phone, there was an albergue with a restaurant another 9km on. That 9km was pretty much all up hill. “There’s beds available,” I told Daniel. “Let’s do it man,” he said.

With the early afternoon sun beating down and little breeze to speak of, it was a hot climb out of Negreira. In a way it was another of those Camino shames, you see a beautiful village, but pass through with just a few photos taken and a brief meal at the tavern.

As The Way was in full sun, I broke out my umbrella again. This is a godsend and if you can handle the little bit of extra weight, I would recommend walking with one. After a kilometre to so, the path entered a forest and barley left it for the rest of the climb. I was Gandalf once more, striding through the Shire with my wooden staff.

As always on a long walk, the last kilometre or so seems to drag, especially when it’s uphill. Today was no exception. I’d injured my foot before I left England, basically the tendon on the top of my big toe was screaming in pain, and as I approached the 30km mark, my foot was ready to down tools for the day, have a cool shower and a good lie down. And some drugs from the anti-inflammatory family.

As we rounded a corner of bright green moss dry stone wall, the Albergue Alto da Peña came into view . . . At the top of another climb. I was so thankful for my eucalyptus staff as I hobbled that last few metres. Not only were we greeted by the lovely hospitalero, we were cheered by the pilgrims siting in the sun resting and drinking cold drinks.

After a shower I was ready to lie down and check in with the second Ashes Test from Lords. I caught the last few balls before Australia won. Booooo. Boooooo. Boooo. What the hell was happening? I went online and found out that there had been a controversial decision that had gone Australia’s way. My mind went back to yesterday’s controversial decision that went against Australia. All of the English commentators yesterday stood safely behind the letter of the law. Today they abandoned that argument, instead grasping for the old chestnut – it’s not in the spirit of the game. Having suffered for decades listening to this tripe following Vinod Mankad’s dismissal of Australian Bill Brown in the 1947-48 tour. For the record, all of the Australians believe what Mankato did was correct. Screw the spirit of the game, it always seems like a last resort argument, a Hail Mary, an argument of desperation. As we used to say back in the day – winners are grinners and the losers can make their own arrangements.

As the afternoon wanes, the wind has picked up. It’s quite cool sitting in the shade looking at the view of the Galician hills. It is rather peaceful and beautiful up here in the hills. We have a pilgrim’s dinner which I can smell is being cooked fresh. Then, as most pilgrims do, I’ll be in bed early to rest my weary body. Gotta love the pilgrim life.