French Escape

We met for breakfast in Flora’s in Mos,  The briefing for the day was: walk up hill, walk down hill, coffee; walk up hill, walk down hill, lunch; walk up hill, walk down hill, hotel.    And that was precisely what happened.     We set out in the rain, although  It didn’t rain all day and the sun shone occasionally.  The first up hill was a long slow climb and the first down hill near vertical -  an  early morning challenge. Well earned coffee  in Redondela.  We risked life and limb crossing busy roads and went over the second hill to Arcade and found the only place open for lunch while the heavens opened. We ventured out, when it stopped and were completely at a loss as to which bridge to cross to continue our journey to Pontevedre. Seeing our dilemma, a woman driving    up the road leapt out of her van to tell us how to get to the correct bridge. Writing this after 32km, feeling bone tired, with sore feet and painful knee...

We set off from Tui via the cathedral and headed towards Porrino.     Dodging the torrential downpours was impossible but at least the sun came out in between.  The wooded countryside allowed us to shelter under trees when necessary and the paths were good. There was a choice of route at one point, one path ran through the industrial area and a more scenic route was promised on a longer path. In spite of the weather, we took the longer route which took us across ancient bridges and was largely through woodland. We arrived at Porrino. It was the most dismal place (so no photos). There were a couple of interesting buildings designed by an architect who favoured a brutal style.     To be fair it’s an industrial town by the side of a massive quarry, so it has no reason to be pretty. Thankfully the first cafe we found served excellent tortilla da patatas with salad and that set us up for the final walk of the day. More rain, more sun, more hills and, as usual, a long...

  It rained. It was raining when we set out. It was not heavy, just raining as we followed the yellow arrow along cobbled roads.  Happy to be on the road. The rain got heavier but we were dressed for it (and after all we are British).  After we’d passed Vila Nova de Ceveira’s industrial area and scrap yard, we found a restaurant open for coffee. We watched as the rain got heavier. Coffee drunk and passports stamped, we set out again and walked, in the rain, until we reached Valença, our last stop in Portugal.     The rain was so heavy, as we entered the town, that we dived into a supermarket cafeteria and ate and drank all sorts, while watching the water run down the road. At last it seemed to stop but as soon as we ventured out, the rain started again. The fort built to repel the Spanish, was explored in the pouring rain and we all resisted the temptation to buy anything from the multiple shops selling bed linen and towels. I imagine it would be a lovely place ...

A brief summary: After breakfast  we took the metro to Campanha. We had an hour to wait for the bus to Caminha, in a bus station reminiscent of Digbeth in the 1970s but with better coffee. The bus was late but the connecting bus to Caminha was held for us. The second driver overtook everything as we drove along the coast road. We arrived on time.    Then things went a little awry.      We went to find lunch in the delightful square in Caminha before starting our walk  We ordered. Seven beers, one wine, seven toasted sandwiches, one burger. One beer and  one wine arrived. We waited. After a few minutes six beers appeared. Then after a short delay, one burger and one sandwich arrived. We waited, And waited… The first two meals were finished. The beers going down. We waited. The one member of the group with any Portuguese, went to ask. The waitress had misunderstood the order. Six sandwiches were ordered. We waited. Twenty minutes later, they arrived...

  A day of arrivals, meeting new people and catching up with friends. Lunch was followed by a visit to the handily placed Decathlon store, to purchase warm clothes that we had hoped not to need.  Then, after a  trip to the pilgrims’ hostel to buy our Camino passports, it was an afternoon  of sightseeing. A brief glimpse of Porto, a fascinating city that deserves a second visit (preferably when the new metro line is completed and the disruption to the centre has ended). A day of walking, preparations, laughter, jugs of sangria and glasses of port. An early night after a long day. Thankfully we were  not in the pilgrims’ hostel, three to a room in a four star hotel ensured a good night’s sleep, to set us up for the start of the Camino on Sunday. This is more of a post card than a blog. I will try to write something each day this week.  It may end up as a long piece when I get home or snippets along the way.