Conversations – Pont de Lima To Rubiaes – Part 4 of My Camino Story

Good conversations and good accommodation at Casa Santiago from my previous post, helped me have a good night’s sleep. Orange juice, cereals, yoghurt, a cheese roll and tea for breakfast with the other three guests made a good start to my fourth day of the Camino.

What was not so good was the overnight rain. The cloudless sky the previous evening had fooled me. I had left my wet clothes outside to dry, now for the second morning in a row, they were soaking wet. As I would be wearing my new walking shirt and did not want to carry three wet tee shirts I decided to leave one of them behind. It was a good thick shirt. I hope the note I left helped it find its way to a charity and onto the back of a needy person somewhere.

Of more concern was that I now had no dry socks. I decided that no socks would be better than wet socks. Looking like an itinerant sock peddler from the middle ages, with three pairs of wet socks pinned to my backpack, I set out sockless.

Dave and Theresa left first. Francisco and I left together and soon caught up with them when Theresa realized that she had lost her hat. I had seen it on the road about half a kilometre back but not thought it was hers. I waited with Dave while she went back to find it. Francisco decided to set off on his own.

When Theresa returned, the three of us walked together. Although walking a little slower than I intended, I was enjoying interesting conversations with Dave and her about their life in San Diego so I stayed with them for an hour or so until we reached the bridge in the photo below.

They did not plan to walk as far as I did that day and wanted to stop for a while and take photos, so I continued on my own. I caught up with other pilgrims on the road and was passed by cycling pilgrims. A quick “Bom Camino” as was the custom and we went on our journeys in solitude.

At around 11 am, I stopped for a coffee at the Cafe Viana at Vitorino de Piaes. There was a big crowd of walking and cycling pilgrims, including Francisco, Jackie and Frankie two Scottish women and Heidi, Gun and Suzanne from Finland, all of whom I had met the previous day. The patio and bar areas were buzzing with conversations in a mix of languages.

Fortified by coffee and pastry, it was back on the road and then along a shady trail through woods, Chestnut groves and fields.

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Ponte de Lima

After 6 hours of walking and 26 km, I arrived in Ponte de Lima in the early afternoon. The town is the oldest vila or chartered town in Portugal dating back to 1125. Originally it had been a Roman settlement. As it was a Sunday, the oak tree-lined avenue along the river bank was crowded with tourists. A market was in progress at the end of the avenue with stalls selling food, clothing, religious icons and virtually everything imaginable.

I crossed the bridge over the Rio Lima to get to the hostel. There were already a number of backpacks lined up at the door, their owners sitting at an open air cafe waiting for the Albergue to open.

The hostel had two dormitories with 60 beds in total. I was in the smaller one with 28 beds. Bathroom facilities were clean but a bit small for the number of pilgrims. The cost was 5 euro

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That afternoon and evening, I went back across the bridge to wander around the fascinating old town and have a delicious supper of soup, fish, rice, fries, red wine and coffee at Katekero Restaurante. This restaurant was recommended in the John Brierly guide book, it is one block back from the riverfront and considerably cheaper than those. The cost of my meal from the Peregrino (Pilgrim) menu was 8 euro.

My total costs for the day for morning coffee, supper and a bed were 14.75 euro. I had skipped lunch and was happy that my expenses well below my budget of 25 euro a day.

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Day 5

A dormitory with 28 sleeping pilgrims is a little noisy. The plastic-covered mattresses are great for deterring bed bugs but not for quietly turning over in bed to ease weary bodies. A background of an octave or two of snoring makes for a cacophony of sound. For visual effects, a motion detector switched on a light outside the door every time someone made a visit to the bathrooms one floor below.

Despite the distractions and aided by a good supper, wine and a long walk the previous day, I slept well until 6:00 am. The noise made by early risers and the strobe light effect of their movements out of the door convinced me to get up and make an early start myself.

I had not found any kitchen facilities in the hostel, so as in previous mornings it was a gulp of water from the water bladder in my pack for breakfast and by 7:00 am on my way in the dark.

It had rained overnight, the reflection of street lights in puddles and wet cars was pretty but not ideal for seeing marker arrows. I walked down a long street between big houses with large gardens and many barking dogs.

A man on an upper balcony having his early morning cigarette called out to me and waved. I shouted Bom Dias and waved back. He kept shouting, I was not sure why.

After half an hour and about 2 km I had still not seen a yellow arrow. Looking at the map under a street lamp I realised I was not on the right road. I retraced my steps. The man on the balcony shouted at me again, I then understood that earlier, he had not just been waving, he was trying to tell me I was going the wrong way.

Early starts are good, I thought I had learned to look for arrows more carefully.

Alto de Portela Grande – The Big Hill

After stopping at a cafe for a coffee and pastry, the route left the roads and meandered through forests and farms. The biggest climb of the Camino was the 405m Alto de Portela Grande. It was the third climb of the day with only a small descent after the earlier 200m hill. I had not realized that I was on the big one until I had reached a clear space on the way down and could see no more hills ahead.

The climb was on a rough trail, washed away in many places. It needed some big steps to clamber over the bigger boulders but was not too difficult. I was very grateful for the extra stability from the walking poles.

It was a day of walking through beautiful countryside, forests, fields and small villages in mild temperatures and brilliant sunshine. A day that recharged the soul and made it wonderful to feel alive.

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Walking along a lane through vineyards and fields, I arrived at the Roulette bar seemingly just placed there amongst some rocks. There were benches and tables under shady awnings and a clean outdoor toilet for pilgrims. A welcome cool drink and I was on my way again. Leaving, I could see that the bar was built on the side of the owner’s house.

O Nino – Private Hostel

It was a short stage of 19km. I arrived in Rubiaes at 12:30. The Albergue was closed and would not open for another hour, so I walked on the the O Nino private hostel and got one of the few unbooked beds. The hostel was in one end of an old stone house. The inside had been renovated with 3 small dormitories, new bathroom, a well equipped dining and kitchen area. Interestingly the bathroom was used by both men and women. Fortunately the individual shower stalls and toilets had doors for privacy.

Being the first guest to arrive, I had an interesting conversation with owner Pedro. He explained that the Camino pilgrims were the biggest contributors to the local economy in that part of Portugal (and I heard later, Spain). Many local residents lived in mortgage free homes that had been passed down from generation to generation. The temperate climate and good rainfall allowed households to grow corn, vegetables, chickens pigs and goats for their own consumption and produce their own wine. Living costs were low. Some residents worked in larger towns and cities, others took temporary jobs driving busses or on road maintenance to supplement their income.

It seemed a relaxed lifestyle.

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Pilgrims trickled in throughout the afternoon, Francisco arrived and more pilgrims from France, Germany, Holland and Peru. A mix of novice and veteran pilgrims, young and old, all had interesting stories. A year earlier, Matilda had ridden a bicycle on her own, from her home in Holland to Santiago. A distance of over 2000 km. She had not experienced any problems other than sleeping in her tent a few times when she could not find a hostel.

That evening, several of us walked to a restaurant in the village for a meal. Various peregrino menus at 9 euro. As the private hostel was more expensive than an Albergue at 15 euro and I had spent more for breakfast than usual, my expenses for the day were 30.50 euro.

Camino Conversations

One of the heartwarming experiences on the Camino was the ease with which conversations with fellow pilgrims could start spontaneously. They could continue for minutes or hours with no expectations of them continuing for longer than was comfortable for each pilgrim. Sometimes, the conversation was wordless, just companionship. At times one could walk for a while with someone, move ahead or fall behind, then meet up hours later at a cafe or hostel and pick up as if there had been no interruption.

All of us were dressed similarly. Except for those on organised tours who had their backpacks transported by vehicle for them, we all carried everything we had in our backpacks. Meeting someone on the road, in a cafe or hostel, I had no idea what they did, whether they drove a BMW or rode a bicycle to work – and it didn’t matter.

Freed from the trappings of modern life, possessions, status, jobs, social media, politics, we were all just people. People with a common goal – to get to Santiago. All our prejudices, biases and pre-conceived opinions became irrelevant. Without the pressures of our normal daily lives, it didn’t matter that language difficulties made simple conversations take time, attention and attentive listening. We had all the time we needed.

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