Thursday 1 October 2026 – We woke up to a thick fog over everything. Over breakfast, the light was changing constantly and afforded a couple of atmospheric views, even though we couldn’t actually see across the river into Spain.

The forecast was for the day’s weather to be lovely for walking – no chance of rain and temperature in the low 20s, but the fog would make it pretty chilly. We had 20km to cover to get to O Porriño, and our check-in time was 4pm, so actually we were in no rush, and so could bid goodbye to our Pousada, and to Portugal, after a fairly leisurely breakfast. Our hotel had been a great place to stay – large, comfortable room, great location – but it was sort of symbolic of a lot of what we saw in Portugal – beautifully designed, well built and poorly maintained. I wondered if we would see a dramatic difference when we were in Spain.

To get to Spain, we had to cross the river. The Fortaleza is high on a hill so the first thing we had was a steep downhill walk, and going through the fortifications via an ominous-looking tunnel.

We walked into the dark of this, turned a couple of corners and still had to keep going before we emerged from the fortifications.

It really is a most impressively fortified place. Having worked our way through, we carried on down until we reached the level of the bridge across the Minho, which is another Eiffel creation, though with the emphasis more on functionality rather than elegance of design.

We crossed the river into Spain

and took one last look back across at the Fortaleza.

There were plenty of Camino cues as we started walking through Tui,

but we Jane particularly wanted to go down further, to the river bank where once the ferry would have deposited pilgrims for their ongoing journey; effectively the historic start to the Spanish final section of the Caminho Português. It’s well marked now.

The waymarks are very familiar to us from our previous Caminos across Galicia,

and many of them give a figure for the remaining distance to Santiago

which are, actually, just approximations, despite the apparent precision expressed in the figures.

Carrying on, we passed a mural full of Tui and Camino references

which all the other pilgrims just walked by without registering. As we walked towards the Cathedral which we’d seen from across the water, we noted that we were passing the remnants of fortifications on this side of the river which mirrored what we’d just left in Portugal.

After a surprisingly short climb, we reached Tui Cathedral, which is an imposing mass of masonry,

with an enormously intricate portal.

To our surprise, it was open and we could walk around inside; we’d been expecting a 10.45 opening time.

It turned out that the 10.45 time was for buying tickets to see the cloisters and gardens. Whilst we waited, we looked around at the various imposing constructions in the Cathedral.

 

In the end, the chap on the desk couldn’t get his PC to start, and Jane noticed that one could walk into the cloisters anyway, so we did

and I took a quick peek at the view into the gardens and over the river.

In the end, as matey on the desk still hadn’t got his machine going, we took our leave through the massive Cathedral doors

and got on our way.  The route takes one past the Convent of the Clarisas – the Poor Clares, an order of nuns founded by St. Clare of Assisi, who entered a lifetime of devotion and rejection of earthly possessions.

Jane had read that there was a window where one could get biscuits made by the nuns. It was inside a hall beside the main convent.

One rings a bell, and the window swivels

(it can’t open, as the nuns may not be seen) so that one can put in a sum of money. When it swivels around again, there is a box of biscuits for you.

(Note to my followers who pick up on these things: this is not a picture of food; it’s our reward for a pious donation, OK?)

Further progress past the convent is through the Nuns’ Tunnel

after which one emerges on to normal roads.

Walking along, Jane notice this.

It’s interesting in that its salutation is still in Portuguese; also the figure represented is Pelegrin, the official mascot of the Camino de Santiago created for the 1993 Holy Year, something we’d seen when we walked the Francés and which Jane had remembered (but I hadn’t to no-one’s particular surprise).

Before long the road gave way to a track

and this took us past a chap sitting at a desk and offering sellos and bananas.

I think he must have paid Google some money because “Banana and Stamp” appears on Google Maps. He is part of a small business raising money to create a donation-based pilgrim hostel in Tui.

Further along the track is the medieval bridge of Louro

which has a kind of negative space pilgrim beside it.

We had reached the 5km “minimum qualifying distance” by this stage, and a kiosk appeared handily on the trail

so we stopped for a swift coffee before carrying on. Shortly after that, we reached the Cross of San Telmo, beside a small bridge.

In 1246 (or possibly 1251), San Telmo was on pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
Upon reaching this bridge, he was suddenly struck by a severe, debilitating fever. Realizing he was too sick to finish the journey, he turned back towards Tui and died shortly thereafter.
Because of this, the bridge has been known ever since as the Bridge of Fevers.

The cross bears a solemn inscription for passing pilgrims, which translates as “Walker, here San Telmo became deathly ill. Ask him to speak to God on your behalf.” It’s kind of them to offer, but I’m still working out what message for him to pass on. San Telmo eventually became the patron saint of Tui, and his remains rest inside Tui Cathedral. Jane was intrigued as to whether San Telmo and St. Elmo were in some way related. Here’s what web searches tell us: The original Saint Elmo, traditional patron saint of sailors (giving his name to Saint Elmo’s fire) was Saint Erasmus of Formia, an early Christian bishop and martyr from the 4th century.
San Telmo was Peter Gonzáles, a 13th-century Spanish Dominican priest and missionary who became a patron of Spanish and Portuguese sailors and fishermen. Popular devotion eventually gave him the nickname “Telmo”, the distorted pronunciation of Saint Erasmus’s name, and the name San Telmo and Saint Elmo became interchangeable for both men and the places named after them.

The Ponte das Febres seems quite small.

It’s actually larger than it looks, being an entire semi-circular medieval construction  that has been submerged over the years by river water and silt.

Another couple of kilometres took us almost to the halfway point of the walk and a welcome and very enjoyable coffee stop at a place called Xarden. I had been wondering for the morning whether we’d be seeing crowds of pilgrims, and it was clear that many had gathered here.

We had our first piece of Santiago cake on this Camino; unsurprisingly, pastel de nata was not on offer any more, since we’re no longer in Portugal. It’s a pleasant garden, with an horreo (not an espigeuro, of course) surrounded by Belladonna Lilies

and some cute little sculptures, like this robin, throughout the garden.

The trail continues after Xarden, and leads past another entrepreneurial pop-up;

a lady who plays the bagpipes, and really rather well, too (if you like that kind of thing). She also offers a sello so Jane took one for a donativo and we walked on with, presumably Galician, folk dance music floating around us in the woodland as we went.

Her station was just by another old bridge, the Ponte Romana de Orbenlle.

Clicking on this on Google also tells you that this is the Ponte Medieval de Orbenlle. Apparently, it’s of medieval vintage, but sits on an old Roman road, hence the Romana name (and the current bridge may even have been built on old Roman foundations).

Soon after this, the track gives way to road, at a junction where there are some lovely murals on display. They are paintings by an artist called Xai Óscar, on the wall of his grandparents’ house.

The central one is a portrayal of the Gloria Portal of the Santiago Cathedral, the right-hand one a portrayal of St, James, and the left-hand one is simply called “The old pilgrim”. Again, we noted that the pilgrims that came past today marched on, paying no attention to this rather lovely art that was on display.

Bagpipe lady and a couple of other people had told us about a point in the Camino, shortly after these murals, where you have a choice of two tracks; the official one leads straight to O Porriño, and the other meanders around the countryside. The direct route (to the right) is shorter, but is basically through a series of industrial estates, so the recommendation is to take the complementario to the left,

so we did, and it’s a very pleasant alternative. It starts off as a woodland track, which leads over a polder bridge

and past another entrepreneurial lady, who offers fruit and juices to passing pilgrims for a donativo.

We had a couple of large slices of piel de sapo melon – very refreshing! Eventually the track turns to tarmac, a nice quiet road to walk along. We noticed that a lot of fences were made of slabs of stone,

and then we noticed a sodding great quarry in the distance,

and worked out (because we’re swift on the uptake) that the two things might be related. It turns out that one of the main industries of O Porriño is granite production; the variety of granite produced is known as Rosa Porriño (“Porriño Pink”), which is exported from the Port of Vigo mainly to Italy, Japan and China. Those bits that aren’t used for local fencing, that is.

After a few kilometres on the road, the track returns to woodland, running beside a river,

and taking walkers along a delightful trail, albeit one that is never far from heavy industry.

The trail debouches almost in the heart of the city,

and we had but a shortish walk to take us to our accommodation. The city seems a pleasant place.

It has a very impressive (granite) town hall,

a (granite) Town Name,

a big cockle shell (painted, so we can’t tell if it’s granite or not) to mark the Camino,

a very impressive (granite) rollo (pillory),

and an imposing (granite) parish church.

The church has some beautiful modern stained glass

and an intriguing statue.

It looks like St, James, doesn’t it? Pligrim attire, stick, gourd, the lot. Jane, however, was intrigued about the figure being portrayed holding up his robe to show an injured knee. Further research revealed that the statue is actually Saint Roch (San Roque), not Saint James (Santiago). The similarity in attire is because both saints are deeply tied to medieval travel. But the marking on San Roque’s leg is not a battle wound, but a bubonic plague sore (bubo). According to Catholic tradition, Saint Roch was a 14th-century French noble who gave up his wealth to care for plague victims in Italy until he contracted the disease himself. To show his patronage over plagues and contagious illnesses, his statues almost always depict him lifting his tunic to reveal the ulcerous sore on his thigh or knee. The clincher is the dog, apparently; St. James didn’t have one.

Our accommodation is an apartment in Apartamentos Tarela, which is very well stocked with essentials – and tomorrow’s breakfast – alongside (hurrah!) a washing machine because, y’know, these things are important. We did a bit of supplementary shopping to furnish ourselves with an evening meal but otherwise everything we needed was already here; and the owner even knocked on the door to make sure we were all set up, which was a delightful touch. It all made for a very satisfactory ending to what has been an excellent day.

Tomorrow’s destination is Redondela, about 16km away, but with some hills between us and it, which is not really something we’ve had to deal with up to now. Who knows, I might even have to get my poles out to help me up the steep bits….