Tag Archives: Walking

Camino Finisterre Day 10: Quintáns to Dumbria – Just another day’s walking

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Friday 11 May 2024 – After yesterday’s auspicious return to the act of actual walking, I was a little concerned that the burger I ate yesterday evening might hurl my digestion back into the inferno and dampen (possibly literally) my propects of repeating the exercise today.  My fears went unrealised and so we were able to set out soon after 9am after, it has to be said, a rather meagre breakfast at La Plaza. No matter, the weather was cool and the prospects for rain were nil – a delightful combination for a 13km walk.

It was a misty morning as we left Quintáns,

and it continued to be misty and cool as we continued,

with the hint of rain in the air. Rain would have been very unwelcome, as I had, rather optimistically, packed all my waterproofs in the suitcase. But we had nothing more than a hint of moisture in the air, so my decision was vindicated – all of 200 grams weight saved!

The day’s walk was like many we had during our Camino Francés – very pleasant but with nothing that marked it out as exceptional – just this day, you know? But I was very happy to be out and walking, even if I had less energy for the uphill sections than I had yesterday; there were a couple of Steep Bits, for which I was very glad to have my poles.

So, what did we pass that was worthy of comment? Well, continuing evidence of Eucalyptus exploitation, of course. This patch had been logged, and the stumps very neatly plucked from the ground.

Among the young and teenaged Eucalyptus which bedevilled the landscape were some older specimens. This one was nicely bedecked by moss, which was trying its version of cultural integration.

We found a tiny pilgrim clinging grimly to a wall.

The countryside was attractive, if a bit shrouded in mist,

but walking conditions were great, so we didn’t mind. The village of A Grixa provided a few little vignettes: a lavadoiro

a high street cluttered with horreos;

and displaying some nice mural work.

The next village, Vilastose, provided some rabbits,

and a church, Iglesia de San Cibrán de Vilastose, whose cemetery had different markers to the ones we saw yesterday.

As we walked on, the skies began to clear and at last we had

a little sunshine – weak at first, but well-established soon after. It never became oppressively warm, just nice to be walking in.

As we approached a village called Trasufre, we passed an abandoned house

which was rather practically being used as the container for a bonfire.

(It really was that, and not an incipient wildfire – we saw the chap tending it.) Generally, we passed a lot of fields and patches of land that had been ploughed over, possibly ready for this year’s crops, but most were roughly turned over.  This one struck us as being the neatest bit of turning-over one could wish to see.

Trasufre itself had a high street just littered with horreos.

After Trasufre, we came to another Steep Bit

which again led through largely Eucalyptus plantations.

We emerged from the woods close to Dumbria, near which was our destination for the day.

In the town itself, there’s a school with a rather attractive fence around it,

and a town hall with some interesting figures outside.

The four figures each bear text telling the story of the different development stages of the area: indigenous/immigrant; megalithic (3,500 – 4000 BC), Castros (5th – 2nd century BC) and Romans; the Middle Ages, including the evolution of the Camino; and the 19th century onwards.

Just after that was a bar, and it was open. We only had a couple of kilometres to go, but then, Jane wanted an ice cream. So what were we to do but to take a break?

The remaining couple of kilometres offered us some very neat topiary

and a church, Iglesia de Santa Baia de Dumbría, which had its own pink signpost, so I suppose must have had some historic significance, although I haven’t been able to establish what.

I’d show you more, but there was a sodding great tent set up in front of it

which, from the sound of things some hours later, was to be the site of the town fiesta or some such; we’re currently a few hundred metres downwind of whatever’s going on, and it appears to involve loud music and a lot of shouting. So nice to see (hear!) the people enjoying themselves.

The church itself has some nice stonework on its façade,

and the square has some of those linked-pollarded trees we saw in Mazaricos.

On the home straight to our accommodation, we passed a very unusual sight – a new-build horreo.

This looks to be made from concrete, or some kind of composite – it has an almost 3D-printed  perfection about it. Note also that the end face is not a smooth surface, but has pillars with the face sunken behind them.  I’m not sure what the story is, here. It is illegal to destroy horreos in Galicia and many of them (particularly the ones not entirely made of stone) are in disrepair and crumbling; but what’s the idea behind creating a new one? Eh? Anwer me that, then.

Our final vignette before reaching our accommodation was a shepherd with his small flock of sheep.

He was walking around testing the ground – perhaps worried about damp patches and the possible consequence of foot rot for the sheep? Or searching for one which had been claimed by the marshes?

Very soon after, we arrived at Casa A Pinchona,

which, after slightly more minutes of standing in front of a stubbornly locked door than was entirely comfortable, proved to be an excellent guest house.  We had a nice, and satisfactorily late, lunch, accompanied by the very fine Vanagandr gin that we’d first encountered when we were in Santiago last Autumn.

So, here I am, sitting in a pleasant post-lunch haze and overlooking a sunlit and bucolic riverside scene, bringing you up to date on what has been an enjoyable day, even if it hasn’t taken the sum of human knowledge forward in any meaningful way. Tomorrow, our destination is Mazaricos, where we stayed on our outward journey. The complications of its not being actually on the Camino Finisterre path gives us some planning to do as to how to get there and how thence to return to the Camino; but the quickest and simplest route to it is about a 13km walk, so we’ll probably elect to do that. There are several options as to how we carry on from Mazaricos, and we’ll have to seee how we feel. On that note of uncertainty, I leave you; you’ll have to keep an eye on these pages in order to find out What Happened Next.

 

 

Camino Finisterre Day 9: Muxía to Quintáns – Normal service resumed

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Friday `10 May 2024 – So, the burning question was: would I feel I could cope with a 10km walk?

Actually, I did.

Our hotel room was very warm, so we didn’t have a particularly comfortable night. Despite that, however, the auguries were good that I was recovering from my digestive meltdown: I was hungry! Breakfast was at 8am, also the time we like to make our bags available for collection, and so we headed down for a leisurely, and in my case, quite sizeable breakfast.

The lack of a way to cool the room was the only significant detraction from my view that this has been the best hotel so far, particularly for being well-organised. The breakfast room was no exception, nicely laid out in a way that allowed for a decent buffet whilst still feeling spacious for those at the tables.

A couple of noteworthy points: firstly, there is a rather shocking picture on the far wall.

It depicts the Sanctuary of the Virgin of the Boat, the one at the headland that we saw yesterday, in the 2013 lightning-strike fire that destroyed it.  It’s been rebuilt remarkably well, as we saw yesterday.

Secondly, the background music took a trend that we’d previously noted to an extreme.  The trend is to play cover versions of well-known pop songs, usually in a totally inappropriate style, often sung in English by someone who clearly doesn’t understand the words. We’ve heard a bossa nova version of Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus, for example. But the hotel absolutely took the biscuit today by playing a smooth, salon-jazz version of Pink Floyd’s Time. It was so incongruous that it took me ages to work out why I vaguely recognised the words but couldn’t place the piece.

For walking, the forecast was great – sunny and about 19°C – so I decided to undertake the walk and we thought that we could have a lesisurely departure, since the distance was short, there was little point in arriving early and we wouldn’t have to worry about overheating.  So I used the time before our departure to sort out my walking poles, since the profile of the day’s walk was somewhat up-and-down.

It’s not too extreme – the ascents are only 100m or so – but the slope is 1 in 10, I was recovering and out of practice at hills; so sticks were the order of the day, for me at least.  I checked mine over to make sure that the little plastic pots, the “ferrules”, that cover the spikes at the bottom of the poles, were still in place.  I’d once carelessly lost one on some ascent or other, and Jane (who, of course, had organised some spares) was grudging in her willingness to hand out replacements.  So I took care today to ensure that I wouldn’t upset the Ferrule Godmother. [One?? Hah! Several!! – Ed]

And so we set off.  It was almost immediately clear that the extra layers we’d donned were going to be unnecessary; there was a cool breeze, but hot sunshine as we bade goodbye to Muxía

and started the first climb.

It led past the Capela de San Roque de Moraime

which didn’t look interesting enough to detain us, and on, through some interesting-looking pines

and past a Fonte which looked like it was also once a lavadoiro,

into a village, Moraime, where we’d notionally planned to have our first coffee stop.  Sadly, La Taberna was Spanish Open, so we didn’t get our coffee. But we did get a chance to look around the monastery there,

which is from the 12th Century and which is a very fine place to pop into. It has an impressive entrance portico

and a splendid interior.

A very significant item of interest there is the frieze which runs all the way along the north wall and which is in remarkably good nick.  Here is a stitch of three photos covering it; it’s not perfect but I hope it gives you an idea.

and here is the official explanation – it represents the seven deadly sins,

from left to right: pride, greed, anger, lust (my personal favourite, ever since Raquel Welch), gluttony, envy and sloth, with death awaiting them on the right.

Our next port of call was Os Muiños, which thinks enough of itself to have erected a Town Name

and which is appealing enough

but, most importantly, had a café which was Open Open, and which served us coffee, juice and beer, all of which were very welcome.

We carried on, along a path with some nice views

which led into woodland, through which we could have seen a beach if it weren’t for the trees in the way.

At about the point where we could see clear across the bay to Camariñas,

and I was busy taking photos of a nice flower arrangement,

we noticed a line of something in the water.

It seemed to stretch a long way,

almost across to where we could just make out the Muxía lighthouse, and we wondered if it was some kind of fish farming frame.  Nothing shows on the satellite picture of Google Earth, but on the other hand the town from which it stretches, Merexo, is home to Stolt Sea Farm, an industrial-scale purveyor of turbot.  Maybe the two are connected?

The countryside around there is very attractive, particularly on a sunny day

and, as we passed the scene above, we wondered if we could catch sight of the bonkersly-large horreo de San Martin that we’d seen on our day trip last Autumn. In the distance, we could see something that might be it.

There.

Yes, that thing.

It’s clearly a big horreo, but we couldn’t see it clearly enough to count the legs. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t the one we were looking for, but read on anyway.

The village of San Martiño is home to a substantial church, the Iglesia de San Martiño de Ozón.

As with many of the churches we’ve seen, it has a cemetery around it, and I went to have a look whilst Jane panted quietly in the shade for a bit.

It’s an impressive sight, with quite a contrast between the older memorial markers,

which are decoratively weathered, and the more modern ones

which are identical, but look less interesting because they haven’t weathered at all.

The rest of San Martiño has some very attractive little corners

and the utterly huge 16th-century horreo de San Martiño de Ozon. I posted a photo or two of it last Autumn, but it’s impressive enough to be worth showing again.

It is one of the largest in Galicia, running to 27m in length and having no fewer than 22 pairs of legs. Its large size is because it belonged to the clergy, which imposed a tithe of the crops of the farmers of the parish -10% of the total harvest – and thus they needed a large place to store it all. Apparently, it now “stores” volunteers working in the community. It’s a great photographic subject.

We were by this stage quite close to our destination, the village of Quintáns. The final surprise the walk had for us was this snack vending machine, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

I think it’s linked to a nearby albergue. Anyway, this brought us to our pension for the night,

the Plaza, which, despite our arriving at about 2pm, wasn’t going to offer food until 8pm.  Still, it has a bar, and where there’s a bar there’s gin and maybe some crisps or something. The view from our room is rather nice

and we’re hoping for a comfortable night before heading on tomorrow. The forecast is for cooler, cloudier weather, but no rain; hopefully an ideal day for covering the 13 or so kilometres to Dumbria, our next port of call.

 

Camino Finisterre, Day 8: Lires to Muxía – Mainly Jane Again In Spain

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Thursday 9 May 2024 – I was feeling better than yesterday, but discretion, valour, you know?  So once again we formulated a plan whereby Jane would do the hard yards on foot while I would do the easy kilometres in a taxi.  The weather prospects for the day

seemed similar to yesterday’s, which made a prompt start desirable (for her, at any rate), and so she departed at about 8.30am, leaving me to skulk first in my room and then in the hotel bar, which, for some reason, features a counterintuitively massive meat fridge.

I skulked until it was time to catch a taxi (and, it must be said, see what fallout there might be from eating moderately for breakfast, something of a novelty for the last days. Spoiler alert: no fallout; phew!). As yesterday, I have nothing to add about the journey, so here’s Jane….

It was much cooler and lightly overcast when I started out, leaving Lires and heading off on woodland and farmland paths of varyingly good going…

There were some striking sights along the way

and much evidence of spring planting and preparation.

I walked for a while behind this interesting variation on a horse-drawn carriage…

I wondered if the farmer was taking her to be shod, as she didn’t appear to have shoes and he was positioning the tractor very carefully as he drove so that she could walk where possible on the grassy verge, and avoid areas of broken road surface. [Not shoddy treatment, then – Ed (temporary)]

The way was unremarkable in many ways, although there were some great photo opportunities…

until the steepish bit up to the high point of the walk on Monte Lourido.

What goes up must come down, and the views opened up all around as the way descended (with what appeared to be a forest fire in the distance).

There were abrupt changes in the quality of the surface –

not so much of a problem for me on foot, but a bit of a sharp intake of breath for these Italian bicigrinos!

At a spring on the outskirts of Muxía this chap was doing his keep fit exercises, before filling his water bottle and passing me on his way back into town.

The descent into the town skirts the beautiful Praia de Lourido, with the less then beautiful (IMHO) Costa da Morte Parador on the slopes above.

The town is not particularly noteworthy, although there are some interesting murals

and the harbour area is quite picturesque.

I reached our hotel before Steve wafted in, so was able to check in and await his arrival.

Ah – here he is now!

The taxi ride passed without incident, except the one which happened before it started.  At 1235, I asked the nice lady behind reception at the hotel to request a taxi to take me to Muxía, and she told me it would be there in 20 minutes.  Accordingly, at 1255, I was sitting outside the hotel, ready to depart, and a taxi rolled up.  He looked grumpy when I approached and said, in my best Englishman-abroad-attempt-at-communicating-with-the-locals, “Muxía?”  I was disconcerted when he simply replied “no” and walked off into the hotel.  I thought at first he was going to, as it were, pick me up inside the hotel, but actually he’d just rocked up for a coffee. I sat back down, somewhat disconsolately, wondering if there’d been a cock-up, when another taxi turned up, and it turned out to be mine. The journey proceeded at Spanish taxi pace, i.e. slightly faster than is (a) legal or (b) comfortable.

Once we were both safely ensconced at the Hotel a de loló, we could relax for a while before going out for lunch.  For a change, there was no worry about finding a meal, as María, on the front desk, had pointed us at a restaurant, A Marina, whose kitchen was open all day.  The room was one of those excellent, well-organised hotel rooms which are not expansive, but which are beautifully designed to have all that’s reasonably needed, all reasonably within reach.  That included a kettle! We were thus able to treat ourselves to a Nice Cup Of Tea. When we were in Finisterre, Jane had spotted some local Earl Grey,

so, in order to conserve our precious stocks of Twining’s finest, we tested out this “precious black tea” and found it to be satisfactorily restorative, giving us the energy to go to lunch. Then we went for a walk. Obviously. (It’s so nice to be able to type that, as today is the first day I’ve felt capable of walking with any degree of pleasure, dignity or pace since Monday.)

Lunch was also an opportunity to reintroduce my digestive system to proper food (OK, and gin), in an experiment which – so far, writing some hours later – seems to have been a success, or at least not a noisome failure.  Before we embarked on the walk, we picked up our Compostelae Muxiannae, our certificates for completing what, in our case, is Phase II of III.  And I suppose it’s somewhat cheating for me to claim a Compostela, since I didn’t actually walk the whole way.  So sue me.

Our objective for the walk was to go to the “0 km” post which marks the Muxía end of the Camino, by the sanctuary dedicated to the virgin.  As with Finisterre, we visited last Autumn, but by bus.  The site is quite impressive, as you’ll have noticed from the video I shot last year.

Last year we had approached the site from the coach park, which, obvs, is designed to show the whole area to its best advantage, and I was very taken with the charisma of the place, and left with the impression that it was somehow on a remote promontory.  This year, though, we just walked 10 minutes up the road from the town, and discovered that it isn’t.

You just walk up the road and there you are.  It’s still a lovely site, though.

On the way there we passed the Igrexa de Santa María de Muxía, which is the site of a yearly pilgrimage every September,

and, rather less spiritually, drying rails for conger eels,

which are arranged in a square, rather than the conger line I’d expect.

We spent a few minutes at the site reacquainting ourselves with its Camino-related aspects, but particularly, of course, the “0 km” marker, to show we’d completed this stage.

There are other decent views across the site, too,

including the “sail rock”, which was part of the stone boat supposedly sailed there by the virgin Mary to reassure St. James that his work was successfully completed.  The Camino is full of symbolics like this.

We walked back into town round the other side of the headland, past dry stone walling which we at first thought might have been the remains of ancient habitations

but, it soon turned out, were simply allotments.

One final conger eel rack

and we were back at the hotel, getting ourselves outside more of Sir Winston’s finest.

The morrow?  Too soon to be certain, but the omens are favourable; tonight will be the acid test, possibly in a literal manner, as to whether my digestion really was ready for that meal.  If it turns out that it was, I think I might be ready to rejoin Jane on the road as we walk the 10km or so to Quintáns. If she’ll have me, that is. It’s a short walk and, one hopes, not too arduous. The current forecast for the weather is (whisper it) good, with cooler temperatures but no rain. So, stay tuned and see how the day unfolds, OK?