Epilogue

If you haven't seen the movie "the Way" with Martin Sheen and his son Emilio Estevez, you should.  It's about an American eye doctor whose son dies on the first day of the Camino.  It chronicles his travels as he undertakes the French Route and scatters his son's ashes along the way.

If you've seen it, then you'll appreciate the following clip from Mass in the Cathedral on Friday night.

Now, I can shave my beard!

 I went to Mass the following Sunday and shot this video at the end when they used the Botafumeiro.  What a thrill!  It's a much better video than the one above.

Day Ten: Santiago

We took a tour of the monastery and finished with dinner, a simple affair of rice and fish.  The most memorable part of the evening was when the octogenarian priest tried to force feed Michelle and me communion wafers even though we both have Celiac disease.  He just didn't understand.

We told our hosts that we wanted to get an early start.  How early?  Six thirty.  Fine, they said, they'd make us breakfast then.

Morning came and the five experienced travelers dressed and packed in the dark.  Six thirty came and six thirty went.  After seven, we were summoned for coffee and toast.  It was very nice of them to make the effort, and we were being polite, but we could have been on the road and stopping at a cafe along the way.  That lack of punctuality is typical of Spain and Portugal.  You get used to it.

Starting out in the morning was bittersweet.  The Camino is a process, and you embrace it.  On the last day, it's obvious that the adventure is coming to an end.  Bart told us that he intended to do the last day at his own speed, alone to absorb it all.

The day was foggy and misty.  The trek would be 28 kilometers and hilly.  Michelle was frustrated with the breakfast delays, and we set out on a really rapid pace.  Perhaps too fast.

10.166 Kilometers to go

Once we got to Spain, we had both yellow arrows and official markers to follow.  It was exciting to see the kilometers go down-but sad at the same time.

In a parking lot, somewhere between Padron and Santiago, we saw these two horses tied up outside a cafe in a parking lot.  You can do the Camino on bike or horse or even using a mule to carry your stuff.  We'd met the two guys riding these horses in a little town named San Miguel.  They told us that the trip from Tui would take two days.  Then came the parts we didn't expect.  "Where do you stay at night?" "We find a field where the horses can graze and we roll out our sleeping bags."

"What do you do when you get to Santiago?"  "We turn around and ride back home..." They were probably on their way back when we saw them in that parking lot.

At kilometer 4.871, appropriately 3 miles from Santiago, I developed a really sharp pain in my left shin.  Get serious, we're not slowing down for a little pain.

We limped into Santiago a little after one PM.  Tina and the kids had landed at the local airport.  We couldn't enter the Cathedral with our back packs, so we went to the pilgrim's office to get our certificates.

We waited in line for more than 45 minutes.  Then we were individually called up to present our passports.

When I received my certificate, I got all choked up with emotion.  It was a combination of gratitude, elation, and sadness.

As we walked around, we saw lots of our friends from the Camino.  You travel with a cohort, and you approximately get into town at the same time as your Camino friends.  It becomes a big party.

I left Michelle in the Praza Obradoiro, in front of the Cathedral, and went to the hotel to meet up with Tina and the kids.  I got a huge reception, as did my old man's beard.

Tina went out into the square to find Michelle, and here's what she found.

All our Camino friends found us, and at night we went out to see a local band that specializes in American blues, the Bakin Blues Band.  Tina shot some great video, if I can get a copy, I'll post it.

The bar was hot and crowded, so we left and found a performance by a Tuna across from the Cathedral.  Tuna does not refer to a fish.  A Tuna is a student minstrel group performing traditional music on traditional instruments.  In this case, the group was comprised of law students from the University of Santiago.

As for that pain in my leg, we're convinced that it's a stress fracture, and this old man is getting a cane as soon as he shaves the beard...

The Camino is a remarkable experience.  It teaches you many things.  Bart says it's a metaphor for life.  He's right.

It teaches you humility-in a big way.  You have limits and you bang into them.  You sleep, exhausted in places one step above homeless shelters.  You cope.

For me, one lesson was to let go.  We'd start out in the morning without an idea of where we were spending the night.  You've just got to have faith that things that things will work out.  And, they always do.

You meet fascinating people on the Camino, many who have done this several times.  They add to your experience, and you hope that you do the same for them.

This has been one of the best things I've ever done.  Thanks for reading along.

Day Nine: Galicia Burns Again

None.  Those are the chances that a Franciscan Monastery has WiFi.  I'm sitting in a hot bunk bed writing this on a word processing package.  I'll upload it tomorrow.  Let me tell you about my day.

We left the albergue in Caldas de Reis before six thirty after snacking on chorizo, cheese and fresh fruit.  It took minutes to be out of town.  The countryside today was about the prettiest we'd seen in Spain.  There was a good amount of low fog and some parts of the walk were partly cloudy and windy as the sum rose.  I took pictures, but I'm not sure you can capture these things without a really nice camera.

We met up with Bart about an hour out in, of course, the first cafe.  We left him behind and continued race walking until we found the Dutch girls.  We walked with them through beautiful forests and valleys.  When we reached the only bar in the village of San Miguel, we stopped for refreshments.  While we sat there, Bart caught up so we decided to split up again.  Girls in one group and old men in the other.

We found the path to the monastery.  It was very cool.  It was much less traveled than the Camino.  It was overgrown and ran alongside a huge river.  Somewhere, a fire was burning, and you could smell it.

Crossing the River on the way to the Monastery

Helicopters were buzzing overhead when we got to monastery.  A major forest fire was burning no more than. A kilometer away.  We were in the smoke plume and ash was falling on us.  The monastery didn't open until four and there was no place to drop our packs.  This was looking like a bad idea..

Fire on the edge of town

Michelle called the hotelier of the monastery and was told that we'd be safe there and that we could walk up the road and probably drop our packs at a place called the house of God or something similar.  I asked if it had WiFi. She ignored me.

Sure enough, we walked up the road, passing ladies picking padron peppers, and found a bar named Casa Dios.  We weren't sure we'd stay in Herbon, but a cold drink would be nice.

Seaplanes bombed the fire with water as we sipped our Cokes

As we sat on the front stoop, fire trucks sped by and big seaplanes dropped water on the fire.  It was constant.  We went inside and had an excellent lunch of local foods including pimientos de padron.  While we ate, the hubbub subsided and the sky cleared up.  We decided to stay in the monastery after all.

Why the title?  In 2006, I lived in Galicia with the kids and a huge string of arson fires struck both Galicia and Portugal during the dry summer months.  The fires were driven by economics, the arsonists wanting to free up protected lands for development.  (We learned later that this fire, which made the national news, was arson.)

We walked back and waited until four when they opened the doors.  The deal is this: they have been taking in pilgrims forever.  You pay whatever you want.  Tonight, they'll give us a tour of the monastery followed by mass at eight and dinner.  In the morning, there's mass again and breakfast.

Smoke in the chapel

So here I am, sitting in a dorm room with the windows open like countless pilgrims before.  Tomorrow, we walk to the. Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela.

I hope they have WiFi.

Day Eight: We Split Up

That evening in Pontevedra we went out with Bart and had tapas at a place he'd seen during the day.  The high point of the meal was an octopus risotto with mussels and seaweed.  We were all still talking about it the next day.  It had saffron in it and was bright orange.

We left the hotel at 6:45 and  Michelle seemed annoyed at how long it took to  check out.  Unlike in the US, they hadn't taken my payment information on check in.  Michelle had seen pilgrims walking past the hotel--and we can't have any of that, now can we?

It was another beautiful morning as we walked through the countryside.  We'd analyzed the map with our friends the day before and knew that there was a cafe two hours out and another one two hours later.

When we reached the first cafe, Bart and the Dutch girls, Anne and Marlose, were sitting under a grape arbor.  In Galicia, everyone seems to have albariño growing on wires suspended about seven feet in the air.  Underneath, it's very shady and cool.

We had our coffee and refreshments, and Michelle announced that she wanted to walk with the girls.  That was fine with me.  I walked with Bart.  The girls walked so fast they disappeared.

One of the things that amused us was the group of Canadian turegrinos who were covering our route.  About once an hour, we'd come to an intersection where we'd see their tour bus waiting to hand out refreshments or succor.  We had to take a picture.

We found the girls a few hours later eating at the side of the road.  Anne and Marlose were eating.  Michelle's food was in my backpack..  We sat with them and snacked while other pilgrims walked by us.  We asked one to take this picture.

We continued on to our destination, Caldas de Reis, a dumpy little town that has attracted people to its hot springs since Roman times.    In the center of town, we found the girls with their feet in a thermal fountain just as the guidebook described.

Ann Bertrand and Michelle, caught in the act

Except the guide book said nothing about the old lady who came by and told us that we couldn't do that and that the Guardia Civil were going to come by and fine us.  I could tell by the looks on the other locals that the old woman was a bit nuts, but we couldn't shake her.  She said the same thing over and over and over.  As she walked away, she buttonholed passers by to tell them what we'd done.  We moved on.

Michelle decided that we were going to stay in the municipal albergue.  We got there a half hour before opening time, so we sat on the sidewalk and waited.  She snapped this photo while we sat.  (Aqualung or Mr. French?)

Here it bears explaining: albergues are cheap lodging for one night.  They can be one step above a shelter.  They kick everyone out at eight in the morning and then clean the place.  They don't open their doors until the afternoon, and admission is on a first come first served basis.  Come ten PM, they lock the doors.  No monkey business--you just got a room for as little as five euros.

Did I say room?  I meant bunk bed.  Sometimes, you get sheets.  Usually, they're disposable.

This albergue was an experience.  I hadn't taken a communal shower since high school.  Michelle had never taken one.  The WiFi was useless, so I couldn't upload pictures or write this blog.

Michelle went out with the girls, and I wandered around town looking for a spot to have dinner and an ATM machine.  On the way back, I ran into Bart and we went to a nice looking courtyard cafe I'd seen for a glass of wine.  As we sat there, the girls walked by and saw us.  The town is that small.

Bart and I kept searching for a half way decent place to eat and walked into the back of a restaurant near the albergue.  There we met Robert from Ireland sitting with a German couple.  This was Robert's fourth Camino.  He has scallop shells tattooed on each calf.  He's very funny.  Everything's "fooking"  this and "fooking" that.

The first words he said to me "So, you're the American..."

There's not much else to tell about Caldas de Reis.  Tomorrow, we've decided not to stay in Padron but to spend the night in a Franciscan monastery about three kilometers off the Camino in Herbon.  What are the chances they have WiFi?

Day Seven: Pontevedra

We got up early and for once didn't worry about waking up any of the other pilgrims.  There were plenty of people getting up--there were 42 bunk beds...

We started out at about 6:30 AM, which was better, in my opinion, because we had twilight to guide us.  The  walk today was a mere 20 kilometers (after yesterday, everything seems a lot shorter).

The Camino now has two distinct sets of travelers.  The real backpackers and the turegrinos that I spoke about in yesterday's update.

When we reached the town of Arcade (pronounced phonetically, not like the English word "arcade"), we had to cross this bridge across the Vigo Ria.

Now, you probably can't see it, but there are three Canadian tourists on that bridge.  They were part of a busload of Canadian turegrinos that started out of Tui.  The bus carries their baggage and they stay in hotels.

Anyway, we catch up to them because we walk stupid-fast, and they ask where we're from.  We answer " Baltimore and Chicago".  They reply "We're from Southern Ontario, right across from Detroit".

I say, " My wife's uncle is a retired priest who lives in Windsor, across from Detroit".

"What's his name?" they ask.

"Mitch Kaminski", I reply.

"He serves mass at the Polish parish in Chatham.  That's the church I go to. I know father Kaminski."

"He's my mother-in-law's brother."

"Small world.". Indeed.

We raced ahead.  As I wrote yesterday, a lot of the Camino is on old Roman roads.  The pavement is huge random shaped granite stones.

In the picture, you can see the wheel ruts from centuries of wagons traveling over the stones.  I thought it was impressive.  Michelle asked if I wanted her foot in the picture.

We got to Pontevedra early and checked into a hotel.  We ran into Bart later, and he'd done the same thing.  We'd all had enough of the turegrinos.  We also wanted some space and clean dry clothes.

The historic center of Pontevedra is beautiful.  The buildings and streets are all granite, just like those Roman roads.  We had lunch in a cafe.  I had Merluza a la Gallega (Hake cooked in the Galician style, with sweet smoked paprika.) It was the best I've ever had.

This is the Iglesia la Perregrina.  It's a block from the hotel.  The floorplan is shaped like a scallop shell, the symbol of Santiago de Compostela.

I've been in this city before, but it's much cooler than I remember.  If you're going to do the Camino, you need to budget time in places like this.

After lunch, I went shopping for provisions:

An adapter to replace one I lost in an albergue.

Chorizo, manchego cheese and fruit for tomorrow's hike.

Iodine for my blisters.

Bottled water.

An ace bandage for Michelle's ankle.

I came back with everything except the ace bandage. These are not stock items in Spanish pharmacies, which are very small, private shops-no CVS or Rite Aids here.

On a personal note, I haven't shaved since I left Washington, DC a week ago.  I was hoping to look like the Old Spice guy.  I fear I look like a cross between Aqualung and Mr. French.  (If you don't understand, ask your parents...)

Tomorrow, we walk to a small town called Calda de Reis which has hot springs where pilgrims soak their feet.  (I hope they have gluten free beer...) Stay tuned.

Day Six: The Road to Redondela

Tui was interesting.  We saw all our Camino friends at one stage or another, but we were joined in the albergue by hordes of young Spaniards.  Tui is 100 km from Santiago, and to get a certificate of completion, that's the minimum you have to walk.  Apparently, the Camino looks good on your resume, so with 27% unemployment, here we have everybody aged 21 through 30 joining us.

Michelle and I had one roommate, a guy from Cadiz who had driven "1,000 kilometers" that day to start the Camino the next morning.  He had this pronounced lisp which is one of the distinct Andalusian accents.  He was nice, but we didn't stay up to talk because the following day was going to our longest, 32 kilometers (20 miles.)

So, we get up at 5:30 planning to hit the road at six.  I haven't mentioned that Spain and Portugal are in different time zones.  Six AM in Spain looks like Five AM in Portugal, i.e. pitch black.

We head into the quiet city and start scouring the curbs and corners looking for a yellow arrow.  This is going to be interesting.  Michelle's wearing a head lamp and I'm just following making wisecracks.

We found the Camino in the dark, but to be honest, it was poorly marked.  Near the edge of town, we found the Dutch girls looking for the markers in the dark. It wasn't just us.

We were in the countryside as the sun rose.  There was fog in the meadows.  If was beautiful.

We walked like this for two and a half hours until we reached a cafe on the far outskirts of O Porriño.  Lots of pilgrims were sitting there.  I got an indescribable Cafe Con Leche (think caffe latte) and Michelle got a Coke Zero. We also got two orders of tortilla Española (Spanish omelette with potatoes and onions).

The guy at the next table says to us in perfect English "So are you guys the Americans? Didn't there used to be three of you?" We were floored, but struck up a conversation with Bart, an educator at the American School in The Hague.  He's from Belgium and speaks five languages fluently and a few others passably.

We'd never thought of ourselves as the Americans, but then we realized we were and still are the only Americans we've run into on the Camino.  This is a big responsibility.  We won't embarrass you, America.

O Porriño

After almost 19 kilometers, we walked through the center of O Porriño. This early on a Sunday morning, it was pretty deserted.  They were getting ready for some sort of fair.  It looked like a nice place.  Plenty of pilgrims stopped here for the night.

We walked on, eventually starting up another hill, stopping in the little town on Mos.

The church of Santa Eulalia in Mos.

We stopped in a cafe across from the church and had Cokes and sat with Bart again.  The slog continued, this time with Bart in tow.

We got to Redondela and got spots at the municipal albergue.  It's in an ancient granite building in the center of town, beautifully renovated.  That was the good news. The bad news was that it was full of the young Spaniards and others who'd started in Tui.  Apparently, these partyers are referred to not as perregrinos (pilgrims) but turegrinos.  (Tur is Spanish for Tour). Some even had their backpacks picked up and delivered by a service...

We had lunch in a place next to the albergue with Bart.  For the last 20 kilometers, all Michelle could talk about was ice cream.

The first of two...

My uncle Manny's brother, Jose Luis, and his wife Sara joined us at the restaurant along with Julia, who was looking a lot better than the last time we saw her.  They stayed long enough for a coffee and a whole lot of hugs and then left Julia with us.

Michelle took a nap, so Julia and I explored the town.  It was dead. Sunday and some saint's day combined to close most businesses.  We stopped in a cafe with WiFi and I had a gluten free beer.

Heaven.

At seven, my cousin Marilyn arrived with her husband Felipe.  We had some light fare at a cafe when this religious procession came by.

I still don't know what Saint it was!

Marilyn took Julia with her to Moaña and we returned to the Albergue before they locked the doors at ten.

Felipe, Marilyn and the Americans

So we're getting ready to go to bed and right behind the albergue, a concert of traditional Galician music starts.

View from the albergue

For those of you who don't know, Galicia is Celtic Spain.  If you look closely at the picture, you'll see the bagpipers.  There were probably twenty.  It was remarkable. It made me think of my uncle Manny and how much he would have loved it.

Afterwards, I had to tell the young Spaniards to shut up so the rest of us in the bunk room could get some sleep.  The American...

Day Five: We Reach Spain

The article in SAGE's newsletter MesSAGEs was entitled "No Pain, No Spain". Unfortunately, it's true. I've got symmetrical blisters on each heel and my left knee is getting stiff.  Michelle has one blister, but also has a sore Achilles tendon and a swollen arch.

On the good side, we made it to Spain and have only 119 kilometers to go.

Last night, we had dinner in a very allergy aware restaurant in the tiny town where we were staying. The menu featured-get this-an allergen grid on the last page. There were only two items off limits to us, but that was a huge improvement. Michelle complained that everything was fried--but none of it got us sick.

Michelle with Miniature Gorilla Girl

Our albergue yesterday had two adult cats and three identical tabby kittens.  There was only one other pair of travelers, so we got a room for ourselves.  This time of the year, all the little towns in Portugal and Galicia have Ferias (fairs) where they celebrate by shooting off rockets in the night.

So, last night about two in the morning, I was awakened by this booming-the sound of explosions.  It was accompanied by the sound of mewing--the clamour had terrified the kittens and they came through our open window to safety.  Michelle was freaked out by all these cats in the room and moved into an upper bunk bed.  I woke up with a kitten in my bed.

With no fog, we figured it was going to be a hot day, but it was cool and great walking weather.  Our objective was much shorter than previous days-only 18 kilometers.  That's something more than a four hour walk.

The old man and the Camino

By this point, the Camino had become largely country roads and backwoods trails.  The uneven ground wreaks havoc on your legs.

The coolest thing ever was the realization that we were almost in Spain.  Valença is the Portuguese border city that we walked through.  The Portuguese and Spaniards fought for years, so the Camino wends through the fortifications along the Minho River separating the two countries.

The other side of the river is Spain.

To cross the river, you go over a two lane bridge constructed by Gustave Eiffel.

And once you're over, no passport check or anything, you're in Spain.  Finally, signs I can read and waiters I can understand!

We walked through the city of Tui and got our passports stamped at the Cathedral, which looks like a fortress.  Under the Portuguese guns, it had to be built that way.   At this point, things start to get a little emotional.  This takes a lot of effort.  The significance of each stamp grows.

We found our albergue and went through the usual drill: (1) take a shower (2) do laundry, (3) find lunch. This last part is important.  Food is something that Spain excels at-and since we used to live here,we were jonesing for some real Spanish food.

Pulpo a La Gallega. Why we walk...

Michelle and I had lunch in a touristy restaurant by the Cathedral, filled with American senior citizens.  The worst overheard line of the day: "Do you have a menu in American?" Cringe.  We volunteered helping translate and when they discovered we were pilgrims, we became part of the entertainment.

Tonight, we'll see our friend Sol and will be reunited with Julia, our lost companion.  Tomorrow, we walk over 30 kilometers to Redondela, near the city of Vigo.  There, we'll see my cousin Marilyn.  The more we walk,the closer we get.  I'll let you know how it turns out.

Day Four: We Tackle the Mountain

The stay at the Quinta was what the doctor ordered.  We got up at 5:30 while it was twilight outside, and breakfast was already waiting for us.  Boiled eggs, Serrano ham, cheese, fresh fruit, yogurt.  Why leave?

We got on the road at 6 AM, and the day was different. It was foggy and at times misty. Temperatures were cool, and if we had to traverse the mountains on our longest slog yet, this was the weather we wanted.

Breaking news: I got my first blister.  Not in the usual places, but on the inside of my heal, under my ankle.  It hurts!  Julia had every toe taped up. I can't even imagine how that felt.  I'm writing this at the end of the day, and my little friend has a twin brother on the other foot.  It's just not fair...

We kept up a quick pace through gorgeous countryside, and after two hours, we reached Ponte de Lima, which is probably the prettiest city in Portugal.  Some day, when I have time, we're coming back.

Coffee by the River. Pilgrim's progress

We went to a butcher shop and we bought sausage much like a French saucisson sec and some local cheese.  Then we headed across the river and into the mountains.

Looking at this picture, you can't tell how steep these trails were.  Half way up what seemed to be forever, we entered a little town. The first person we met was an old man walking his cow.

Meet Bessie.

We kept on slogging up the mountain.  We passed people, but nobody we'd met before.  When we got close to the top, we found a cross where pilgrims had left rocks and written prayers. We decided to have our lunch: the sausage, cheese, and a melon we liberated from breakfast.  Two German ladies came by and took our picture.

Even with the cool fog, I was soaked to the skin with sweat. Hiking with a backpack through the mountains is no joke.

For once, our plans worked as intended. We got to Rubiaes a little after one.  We were the first pilgrims at the Albergue.  We took showers and the owner offered to launder our two days worth of filthy clothes for three euros.  Deal!

We walked into town to get refreshments and will return tonight for-get this-a gluten free dinner.

Today was over 30 kilometers.  Tomorrow will be under 20, but we cross the Rio Minho into Spain.  We should meet up with Julia and family in Tui.  Wish us luck!

Day Three: our first casualty

Thursday, we left at 6:10 AM and were so much more organized than previously, it was ridiculous.  The streets of Barcelos were empty and the Camino went through the center of town.  It was very cool.

Exiting the city,  we were quickly in the countryside.  Another gorgeous early morning moving through farms, woods, and tiny towns.  The forecast was for scorching weather, so the plan was simple: cover as much ground as possible before it got crazy hot.

Soon, it became evident that we had a problem.  Julia not only had blisters, but a probable case of tendinitis in her right knee.  Other pilgrims passing us shared stories, and Michelle got on line and researched it.  Tendinitis is the most common Camino related injury after blisters.  The remedy is rest-days of it.  This was clearly a big problem.

Julia wanted to slog on, so we emptied a lot of the weight out of her backpack, and carried  it ourselves.  Lesson for everyone reading this: never take an ounce more than you need.  Even little items add up.  My pack weighed six and a half kilos at the airport, but on the road you're carrying water and food.  You feel it on your shoulders, joints, and feet.

Our pace was snail like. The heat was oppressive.  We still took cool pictures, but it was apparent that this situation was untenable.  Eating a lunch of odds and ends from our backpacks (linguica, cheese, peanut butter, chocolate covered almonds...) In the shade of an olive tree, we made a decision: Julia needed to return to civilization, or we were never going to make it to Santiago.

We called a friend in Spain, Sol, who we were planning to visit in three days and asked if we could send Julia on a bus.  Sol said she was visiting her mom in Goian, a little town on the Portuguese border and could come after lunch to retrieve our injured pilgrim.

We walked to a little town and waited.  Michelle photographed the map out of our guidebook and texted it to Sol.  Sitting in a bar, we gorged ourselves on bottled water, soda and ice cream.  It still took a long time.

Waiting in the shade for Sol

Sol came and took Julia back to Spain.  Michelle and I walked three more kilometers to a beautiful Quinta right on the Camino.  Built from the ruins of thirteenth and sixteenth century houses, the place is beautiful.  The owner is a retired Dutch businessman who restored the place himself.  Dinner and breakfast are included for 30 Euros per person.  There are farm animals and fresh fruit.  The owner cooks for you. 

There were only two other guests, a German and an Irish businessman. They were a lot of fun to talk to.  Both were walking the Camino. We all had dinner in the main house with our host. The food was marvelous and the local wine (from a bottle with no label) flowed.  I kept thinking of all those horror movies where the couple seeks refuge from the rain in the castle and they have dinner with Count Dracula. I think I was tired...

Tomorrow is supposed to be hotter than today. The plan is to leave at six AM and push ourselves to reach our destination before 1 PM. The one complication is the 400 meter mountain we have to traverse.  I'll let you know how it turns out. (Unfortunately, as perfect as this place has been, the WiFi isn't working.)

Day Two: The Road to Barcelos

If I hadn't said it already, I was outvoted on day one. We're not taking the coastal route.  We're taking the central route for the Camino and creating our itinerary on the fly.  Michelle is our navigator.

We started out at 6:45 AM, and we were still the last to hit the road.  I wasted a bunch of time looking for my earplugs.  When you sleep in a room with five other people (or more) somebody's going to snore.  I got a lousy night's sleep, and my earplugs had disappeared (just like Julia's pilgrim passport).  Michelle gave me four spare ones.

The Camino today was largely on back roads and dirt tracks. This is a picture of the first bridge we crossed.  The fog was rising off the water.

Soon, though, our pace slowed.  Julia's blisters caused her to change her gait. This caused knee pain.  This made 27 kilometers seem like the impossible dream.  After a long while, Michelle lent Julia her hiking poles.  They made a huge difference. The pace improved noticeably.

The Camino goes by tons of old churches.  It makes sense.  It's a religious pilgrimage route, and the travellers probably stayed at the churches.

This Romanesque church dated back to the 1200's.  It was one of the only ones we found open in the last two days.

The weather turned hot today, and our slow pace put us in the thick of it.  It was miserable.  We were walking through the town of Perreira, and Michelle suggested we eat.  I'm sorry we didn't take any pictures.

The place was bright and well decorated.  Every seat was filled with working men on lunch break.  The waiter said to wait five minutes, and like clockwork, we were seated.  We explained our gluten issue and the waiter brought us a huge platter of grilled chicken, vegetables and salad.  It was awesome.  With bottled water, the total came to fifteen euros. ($18)

We still had five miles to go (eight kilometers), and with the blazing sun, Julia and I just wilted.  When we got to town, there was a sign showing the three choices of albergues.  We picked the first one. No way were we walking any further.

We checked into a beautiful albergue finished last year.  Price: five euros per person.) The bunk room has something like thirty beds, so those earplugs are going to come in handy.  Of course, the Dutch girls and the Spanish guys from yesterday were here too!

After showering, Julia and I desperately needed something cold to drink.

Portuguese Vinho Verde is a bright, crisp wine perfect for a hot day.  It's a lot like albariño. Julia made me stop at one.

This is a cool town.  There's an old castle on the river in the center.  We looked for a good restaurant, but ended up getting take out.  Roast pork.  Mmmm....

Tomorrow, we're out the door by six.  It's going to be a scorcher.  Our destination depends on our condition..  I'll keep you posted.

July 6th: we hit the road

The day started off inauspiciously. The girls wanted to start early, but I'd paid for breakfast at the nice hotel. I wanted my coffee, good strong Brazilian coffee plus lots of gluten free calories. Breakfast started at 7:30. We were all up before six.

Everyone ate seconds, but they were still pissed at me.

We checked out and walked up the steep hill back to the Cathedral, our official starting point.  Michelle had the map and had the route marked off. The signs were painted clearly on the wall. But, when she started walking back down that hill, we mutinied. There was no way we were walking back down when we knew the route went the other day.

So we did something incredibly stupid. We split up.  Two minutes into our adventure, and Michelle was following the right route while Julia and I were out to prove how much smarter we were.  30 minutes later, we texted her contritely, and she waited for us to catch up to her.  Lesson learned.

This is what a Camino marker looks like.  When you haven't seen one in a while, you get pretty nervous.

The first ten miles of the day were not a lot of fun. We walked through the city and then through the suburbs. Sidewalks could be narrow and traffic hectic.

On top of that, there was no sign of other pilgrims.  Then, as if by some cosmic twist of humor, we ran into two Mormon missionaries...

It got better when we got into the small towns and towards the end of our 27 kilometers, it got downright fabulous.

Plenty of places will stamp your passport--your pilgrim credential, including bars. It was hot and after noon when we stopped in a bar to get some soft drinks and passport stamps when Julia couldn't locate hers.  She was frantic, crestfallen, furious all at once.  No luck.

We trudged on and ate lunch in a forest off the side of the two lane road we were on.

Portuguese linguica sausage, local cheese for Michelle and me.  Peanut butter on gluten free bread for Julia.  Still no sign of the missing passport.

This was a long day.  The packs were heavy, but the weather was cool and breezy.  Just the same, after six or seven hours, it shows.

About a mile from where we took this picture, we stopped in a monastery and bought Julia a new passport.  Hallelujah!  Things were looking up and the road got even nicer.

After this, picture, we turned off into some woods on the right. The path was some ancient, untravelled road.  Very cool.

I think the name of the town we're staying is Vilarinho.  It doesn't matter much though.  We're in an albergue, a pilgrim's hostel, which is costing us ten euros a night.  There are four other pilgrims: two Dutch girls and two middle aged men from Spain.  Everybody is very nice and of course, we all get along.

I have no blisters!  Julia does though, as do some of the other pilgrims.  We did laundry, and our stuff is hanging outside in the breeze and late evening sun.  Everyone else is already inside in the bunk room, but I'm outside tending the laundry and writing this.  Heck, it's only 8:30 pm.

Tonight's dinner was a salad of tuna, beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, green and red peppers.  Healthy, and accompanied by bottled water. No wine.  What's wrong with this picture?

Tomorrow, all three groups plan on starting out early for the same destination, so we'll probably be hostel mates again.

I'll let you know it turns out.