Tag Archives: Walking

Day 37 – Redondela to Pontevedra: My Sarría Moment

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Saturday 3 October 2026 – We made what was probably something of a tactical blunder in our timing of the day, and it’s all Accuweather’s fault! We had been expecting the possibility of thunderstorms and rain after 2pm, and had 21 or so kilometres to cover, so started out dead early; we took our voucher-paid breakfast at the nearby café at 7am and were on the road at just after 7.30.

Unfortunately, it seemed that so was the rest of the peregrino world.

I wrote yesterday about increased footfall; I write today about there being too many sodding pilgrims. I guess I had formed the opinion from yesterday that crowding would not be an issue. Today, it became clear that, for me at least, it was.  I had my Sarría moment today. To quote from that blog entry, “Yes, of course these people have a perfect right to be there; of course I’m being unreasonable. But I hated it. All day.” Today was like that, except not quite all day. It occurred to me, as the day wore on, that the actual number of people is not so much the issue. What triggers me is basically the noise; I like walking in almost complete silence and there was a lot of babble buggering my bubble. Yes, it’s their Camino; but their behaviour buggers up my Camino and I’m hoping that today has inoculated me for the five subsequent days that see us to Santiago.

I’m fairly sure that, had we left later, we would have experienced less crowding because we were on a “Brierley Stage” – a stage as documented by the sainted John Brierley in his extremely good and influential book on this Camino, which thus informs the accommodation and hiking strategies of a large number of the pilgrims. So a lot of people set out at about the same time on the same route; hence the crowds.

We had one exceedingly irritating peregrina today.

I very nearly plucked up the courage to say something to her, but my nerve failed me, so, for the half hour or so that she was in earshot, I simply fumed; it’s the British thing to do, after all.

A lot of photos I took today were about the crowds

A lot of others were about the myriad of pop-up/entrepreneurial sideshows along the way, offering sellos, shells, bracelets, food and other stuff that pilgrims might pay money for.

There was one musician by the wayside that I thought was worth paying; a piper, who was really quite good (if you like that kind of thing).

There were several bicigrinos – cyclists – who must have found the crowds even more aggravating than I did. There was also a very junior peregrina;

I wonder how far she will walk in total?

So, outside the crowds, how did the day go? The weather was fine – and this is where Accuweather had let us down, by providing the forecast that suggested we should start early. We had glorious sunshine all day, and temperatures around the mid-20s. There were a couple of hills to climb, steep in places

and with correspondingly steep descents.

Actually, the one above was at a point where we followed our online map rather than the waymarks. It led down to a major road a couple of hundred metres earlier than the “official” path

but there were still waymarks on it and, if you look carefully, you can see that the track is called “Camino dos Peregrinos”, so it seems that the Powers That Be are tinkering with the route for whatever reasons. Whatever, it gave us a short but well-appreciated dose of solitude as we walked.

We got some great views: as the sun came up, as we crossed the river Verdugo on the Puente Medieval de Pontesampaio, and as we reached the summit of the hills.

Naturally, at some of these lovely views, people were more interested in thrusting their gurning faces unnecessarily in them.

Quite often, though, people just slogged on past without registering them. Their choice, I suppose.

There were the usual sorts of wayside items that occur all along the major Camino routes.

There were coffee stops available, some at established cafés, some at more entreprenerial setups.

The best part of the day was towards the end, with about 7km to go:

another Complimentario. It added over a kilometre to the overall distance of the day, but for almost all of it was a delightful end to a walk that I’d found quite difficult to handle. Fewer people, lovely shady woodland and riparian scenes.

At the end, we passed under a couple of tunnels that had been well decorated

and arrived in the town of Pontevedra.

Sorry about the punter in the shot; life is too short to have waited for a gap where no-one was taking fucking selfies

There’s a memorable quote from the BBC’s Doctor Who on the nature of time: “People assume that Time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it’s more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey… stuff.”

One can say the same about Distance, which is not constant, despite what the International Committee for Weights and Measures would have you believe. The last kilometres of a long walk are much longer than the first kilometres, particularly when walking through the outskirts of a town.

To its credit, Pontevedra did its best to leaven the mix a bit.

That thing in the middle of the road there

is the official mark that says there are 64.5km between it and Santiago.

Pontevedra is the capital of its province in Galicia, on the Lérez river at the head of the Ría de Pontevedra. It began as a Roman settlement, then grew into a major medieval fishing and trading port. That prosperity faded in the 16th century when the river silted up and Vigo took over as the main harbour. Today it is known for its well-preserved granite old town of small plazas, along with the scallop-shaped Capela da Peregrina, the Renaissance Basilica of Santa María a Maior and the ruined Gothic convent of Santo Domingo.

Quite some history, then. We used the bits of the day not dedicated to checking into our hotel (Hotel Rúas) and getting lunch (an engaging place called Taberna Felix, just round the corner), to explore it a bit. To do that, we went for a walk. Obviously.

The first thing that struck us is that the old town in Pontevedra has a heck of a buzz on Saturday lunchtimes.

There are many elegant buildings, and the place has an engaging quality to it.

The Capela da Peregrina is a very distinctive shape.

On the outside, one can see St. James

and on the inside,

the statue of the Virgin Mary as Peregrina

and a handsome cupola, shaped like a cockleshell.

The Basilica is an impressive chunk of masonry viewed from the side

or the front.

Inside

it has a very intricate altar screen,

a statue which we now know to be of San Roque

and a decorative rose window.

The ruined Gothic convent is another impressive edifice, which must have been awe-inspiring in its day.

There’s another thing, of course, which concerns how the town got its name.

It comes from Latin Pons Vetus, “old bridge”, after the original Roman bridge over the Lérez; Ponte Vedra is the Galego form. The arches of the current, medieval bridge are fetchingly decorated with cockleshells,

appropriately enough, as we shall be walking out of the town across the bridge tomorrow morning.

Ah, yes: tomorrow. We have to get to Caldas de Rei, some 22km away – another Brierley stage, so likely to be crowded again. The weather forecast is for another decent day, so we plan to start walking around 9am in the hope that hoi polloi peregrini will have buggered off early and so we might get a bit of peace and quiet. Wish us luck!

Day 36 – O Porriño to Redondela: we had to work for the views

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Friday 2 October 2026 – Having got our bags out ready for collection by 8am, we partook of the generous breakfast provided at the apartment and then took our leave at around 9.20. The apartments are clearly set up for peregrinos; in ours, I found this in the bathroom,

and the neighbouring apartment’s name

is also a word closely associated with the various Caminos. I thought that the word was a modern invention, but apparently it’s a medieval expression, taken from the Codex Calixtinus, a 12th-century manuscript attributed to Pope Calixtus II and widely understood to be his journal of his own pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.

We found our way back to the Camino route, past a statue that pays strong tribute to the granite processing that is O Porriños main industry,

and a sculpture of Antonio Palacios,

a very well-known Spaniard among architectural cognoscenti, who was born in the city and helped define the architectural identity of Madrid in the first half of the 20th century. Just outside the city, there’s a strongly Camino-branded tunnel under the motorway

(nice that the mural hasn’t had graffiti sprayed all over it), and just beyond the tunnel is “Stamp Man”

who will do you a lovely sello for your credencial. Jane has actually created a bit of a problem for herself by taking lots of stamps all along our Camino (excuse me? I think you mean exactly the right number to fill our credenciales – Ed) and so we hadn’t got (a) room for his stamp or (b) patience to wait in the queue, so we kept going.

The number of pilgrims there is an indicator that this section – the qualifying section for one’s compostela – has got a good footfall. It’s nowhere near as crowded as we found the final 100km of the Francés, but there are clearly enough peregrinos to sustain the entrepreneurial pop-ups we found along the route.  There were plenty of people walking, but we found ourselves alone in our own company quite a lot of the time. However, if we stopped to take a photo, or to take a detailed look at something along the way, it was often only seconds before pilgrims came up behind us.

Soon after Stamp Man is the 100km mark, meaning that it would theoretically be possible to get one’s compostela with a start in O Porriño. On the stage of the Francés which passes the 100km mark, there is an official waymark to note the point. On the Português, it’s a bit less formal.

One can derive the actual point only by inference from two successive waymarks.

There were a couple of miniature vignettes by the wayside: this tiny book exchange;

and this equally tiny horreo.

I’m not quite sure whether the model horreo has any purpose other than decoration; it’s not in a position, were it a letter box, for example, that the postman would be at all impressed with. But it’s dead cute.

By this stage of the day, we were approaching the halfway point, and a village called Mos, which has a pedestrian-only centre

and a cafeteria, which is part of an albergue at the heart of the pedestrian area. This, again, showed that the footfall was quite heavy.

I guess we got our timing wrong and were behind a “pulse” of peregrinos. I had to queue for 20 minutes to get our coffees. There was one lady behind the counter, being astonishingly active, serving people with coffee, heating snacks, filling the dishwasher, all in a blur of speed. It actually quietened down just after we got our drinks, and this meant that she could pop outside for a quick fag; but she still kept on being busy

picking up detritus, cleaning tables and, presumably, awaiting the next pulse of peregrinos to come through. It was frustrating to have to wait that long (particularly since we discovered a little – uncrowded – café across the way as we left) but I admired her work rate and efficiency. The albergue is in a pleasant setting

which offers views over the surounding countryside, if you don’t mind squinting into the sun. It is somewhat elevated, but is also the start of The Climb Of The Day; this is looking back down towards the village having walked up a little way.

The climb carries on up, and passed something that made me pause and take a photo:

“Lavadoiro do Cabaleiro” seemed to translate to me as “men’s laundry”, and I was puzzled by this. Is the idea that chaps should come wash their smalls here? Seems unlikely in a country which is still a little chauvinist in regard to household tasks. ChatGPT “thinks” that it may be related to a nearby Fonte de Cabaleiro, which relates to the name of the spring feeding the fountain.

There were plenty of people toiling up this section

and the road passed a couple of interesting scenes. It is difficult to know what went on here, but it looks like someone was a bit pissed off with someone else.

Also, there was this, outside a factory.

The factory didn’t seem to have any connection with soft drinks, so I have no idea why Coca-Cola are wishing us a good Camino, presumably in Galego (the language of Galicia).

The route changes from road to track, but still climbs ever upwards.

It was never hideously steep, but enough to give one a decent workout on the way. At the top, there is a chapel, the Capela de Santiaguiño.

It’s clearly modern. As the Camino de Santiago grew in popularity during the Middle Ages, a primitive stone shrine was erected here to offer spiritual refuge to pilgrims at the peak of the climb. That original structure eventually fell into ruin over the centuries; the local neighborhood forestry guild completely rebuilt the modern stone chapel in 2003. The name Santiaguiño is the Galego diminutive for “Little Saint James,” which reflects a humble, approachable image of the saint as a fellow traveler rather than a distant warrior.

During the Roman Empire, this exact spot served as a bustling highway known as Vía XIX, and a surviving 2nd-century Roman milestone still stands just 300m away.

We passed another pop-up offering posh wax sellos in a variety of colours

but our experience of these is that they look lovely for a while, but very easily degrade as the credencial is opened, closed, stamped on and generally mishandled. So we gave the opportunity a miss. We did not miss, though, a later chance for a sello, which Jane decided she did, after all, have room for – a stamp featuring the Roman milestone. I dropped a bit of Euro shrapnel into their piggy bank money box by way of a donativo, and we were both astonished when it burst into song….

 

And then, another opportunity presented itself….

and we stopped for more refreshment. Again, it was a popular place,

crowded when we arrived, but pretty quiet when we left – again, we were at the tail end of a pulse of peregrinos. As we carried on, all the work we put in to get to the top of the hill was rewarded with some great views towards Redondela.

(If you look closely, you can see an enormous viaduct crossing the city – more on this later.) Just past further encouragement

the road heads downhill, so steeply that Jane dealt with the gradient by traversing across it rather than heading straight down.

As a service to you, my beloved readers, I measured the gradient.

This makes it not quite as steep as Dunedin’s Baldwin Street, thought by many to be the world’s steepest street, which I measured at just over 20°. But pretty steep, nevertheless; and

a lot longer. Really, a lot.

The total descent is 140m vertical, and I am glad for two things about it: (a) that I didn’t have to walk up it; and (b) that my knees let me get all the way down without raising any objection.

Once down, there’s a longish stretch of road into Redondela.

If you look carefuly, you can see that viaduct running across the middle of the picture. The Camino diverts towards the historic centre of the town, past the 16th-century Justinian Convento de Vilavella,

a handsome albergue

with Pelegrin outside it

and along quiet streets.

We arrived at our accommodation, Apartamentos Alvear, too early to check in, so passed the time by going for a walk. Obviously. This took us towards the Santiago Church, which we caught sight of from a distance

before arriving at the church itself. That figure of St. James

shows him in his Matamoros persona, aiding the fight against the invading moorish hordes, and is on the top of the church roof.

Inside

there’s an imposing altar screen

with St. James in his pilgrim persona.

The rose window has some lovely stained glass

showing both cockleshells and the cross of St. James.

Having visited the church, we wanted to explore that viaduct – or, as it turns out, those viaducts; there are two of them, and Redondela is probably most famous as “the town of two viaducts”. They are both 19th century constructions carrying the railway lines across the city. If you look back at the photo of the town I took from the hills you can, in fact, just make out the second viaduct somewhat behind the first, rather more obvious, one. Walking towards them took us past the town hall, which is quite the edifice,

and a nicely-executed mural which sadly hides largely behind a tree,

but the two viaducts really dominate the skyline: northern;

and southern.

The weather today was lovely and it made for a great walk, which turned out to be nearly 18km. Tomorrow’s weather leaves a bit more to be desired – a non-trivial possibility of rain in the morning as we leave Redondela and thunderstorms as we approach Pontevedra, some 21km away. The breakfast arrangement for the apartments here involves a voucher for a nearby café, which opens early, so our current plan is to get under way betimes in the hope of minimising any weather damage. Stay tuned to see if we succeed!

 

 

 

Day 33 – Vila Nova de Cerveira to Valença: another flat day

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9Tuesday 29 September 2026 – Even before we went to bed last night, it was clear that the wind was getting stronger. As we went to breakfast, strong gusts were whistling through the trees and bushes in the garden at the Quinta. It wasn’t raining, though, so we decided to get out and get walking as soon as we could after finishing our breakfast; we were out on the Caminho before 9am. As – I’m prepared to bet money on this – you probably guessed, we decided we would take the riverside, less hilly, walk to our destination, Valença, which would be around 17km away. It was a grey, blustery day,

and we were keen to get to our destination before any rain came along. Our route to the riverside led us past some of the sights of the town: some more faces on murals;

inexplicable artwork;

(this reminds me of the old weather forecasting stone joke: “stone wet: raining; stone swinging: windy; stone gone: hurricane), as well as what is quite an attractive town centre.

There’s a handsome twin-spire church, the Mother Church of the town,

and, yes, it has a Eucharistic Throne.

We had been under something of a misapprehension about these thrones, thinking that they had been banned by the Papacy. In fact, they haven’t – just that the rules about what should be displayed on top and when have been tightened. Management apologises for misleading you on that. The church also had some lovely modern stained glass.

Outside the church was yet another reminder about what lies in front of us.

As we were walking, I noticed, on a hillside, an odd protrusion,

and wasn’t sure whether it was an illusion formed by trees, or actually some kind of installation. Closer view (thank you, Samsung 30x magnification)

showed that it was, indeed, an installation, a representation of a stag. This caused Jane to wonder whether there was a link between the name of the town – Cerveira – and the French for “stag”, which is “cerf”. And indeed there is. “Cerveira” is associated with the Portuguese word “cervo”, which may have referred to a large herd of deer in the area. There’s also a complicated local legend about a King Stag and his one-to-one duel with a nobleman during the reconquista. Thus there is a huge sculpture by José Rodrigues, called “O Cervo” on the nearby Monte Encarnação.

Image courtesy of visitportugal on Instagram

Once we’d seen that, the stag theme became ubiquitous

Our route didn’t give us a decent view of the 17th-century Castelo de Vila Nova de Cerveira (which I couldn’t fly a drone over, you’ll remember), but we did pass near another fortification just outside the town,

the Forte de São Francisco de Lovelhe. We couldn’t easily get any closer, so had to make do with this glimpse. Going past this fort led us back down to the ecopista that we’d been on yesterday, and so we yomped along that almost all the way to Valença. We thought we’d caught the authorities out in a logical impossibility with the signage

before we realised that the cyclist in on the signpost is wearing a motorbiking helmet. Still, it’s interesting that horse and cart were forbidden on the track. There wasn’t frankly, a lot of variety. We saw a bird-watching hide,

some gleaning going on in a harvested corn field by the track (there were a lot of these),

a stand of poplars and eucalyptus

and lots of acorns on the track.

It’s the acorn-falling time of year, I guess, and the blustery wind probably encouraged a few reluctant clingers-on to let go, as well. As we left Cerveira’s municipal area and entered Valença’s we passed a noticeboard which explained that EU money contributed a large amount to create the ecopista and its surroundings.

The Valença end of the ecopista was slightly less well-maintained

though to be fair, river bank erosion was clearly an issue in this area.

Eventually we came to the end of this section of the ecopista

and there was a section of boardwalk which repaid careful attention to footwork.

In the distance we could see Valença.

The path took us over the Ponte Medieval da Veiga de Mira

where we rejoined the formal Caminho track. The reeds beside this track demonstrated how blustery it was.

The Caminho track diverged from this ecopista-type surface

and we walked into the town past some bizarre votive offerings,

and encouragement

to the convergence point where the route we’ve been on, the Coastal, meets the Central. One would have expected some signage to mark this. One would be disappointed. This is all we found, by the roundabout where they meet.

However, there’s excitement on offer in the shape of the route through the “fortaleza”.

This is Valença’s USP – an entire and intact fortified city wall. The Fortaleza de Valença is one of Portugal’s great frontier fortifications, built and extensively strengthened in the 17th and 18th centuries to defend the northern frontier along the Minho river against Spain. It has a double enclosure surrounding the old town, with massive walls, bastions, gateways and deep defensive works. It remains remarkably intact and one of the things that I find really attractive is that it’s not in a restricted area for drone flying, so I might be able to get some lovely photos and/or videos of the place. My appetite has been whetted by the photo on that noticeboard.

The Caminho route into the Fortaleza is indicated by three stones

which are even older than Mick, Keef and Ronnie, but the paint job is from 2022, done by the Portuguese sculptor Dinis Ribeiro.

The Fortaleza is a really impressive piece of work.

and it leads through to the working town within,

with the inevitable tourist things to be seen,

as well as artworks such as this carnation – a symbol of the 1974 Portuguese “carnation revolution” which overthrew 48 years of the Estado Novo dictatorship and paved the way for modern democracy in Portugal.

The fortifications stretch across two fortified enclosures, so it was about a kilometre through this historic centre to our hotel, which is a Pousada,

the Pousada de São Teotónio. Many Pousadas across Portugal are in historic buildings; this one, though, dates from the 1960s. No matter, it is posh, the bar has both white port and gin, as we found out whilst waiting for our room to become available, and it is our home for the next couple of days as we have a rest day tomorrow! Yay!

Although our room wasn’t available when we arrived, other aspects of our timing were pretty good; The rain plainly decided not to stay in Spain, and headed over our way. It started raining soon after we arrived, and became torrential later on.

So we snuggled down for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, the forecast is much cheerier, so I suspect that the obvious thing for us to do is to go for a walk.