Camino Invierno: 4. O Barco de Valdeorras to A Rúa de Valdeorras. 13 kms

Why should our shells point the same way as theirs?

We are proud Galicians, and mind our own affairs.

Once you cross our border, and head towards the west

It’s the rays, and not the head, that send you on your quest.

But now that you mention it, we’re  not so sure ourselves. 

What the bloody hell! We’ll leave it to the elves.

I ran into Carlos at the bar this morning. “Easy day, today,” he said. “Only 12 kms.” “Yes,” I said. “But I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. 27 kms and hilly. “Ah,” he said, “That’s tomorrow. Worry about it then.” That’s the right philosophy.

There are at least two more pilgrims on the road. One is a Camino Bragger. “I’ve done seven caminos,” he says, to anyone who will listen. He must be boring the hell out of his travelling companion. Someone once asked me, rhetorically ,in a bar on the Camino, “How many caminos do you have to do?”

I am impressed with these hostals am staying at. They are really one-star hotels. Last night’s, the Hostal Mayo, at 25€, was a room with twin beds and a bathroom, inside this time, on the fifth floor, with a skylight.

One frustrating thing is the pair of keys they give you, one for the room and one for the building. Copies of copies have been made that sometimes they stick. And they are indistinguishable, one from the other, so invariably, you always try to open your bedroom with the building key first, and vice-versa. 

A fairly gentle climb out of town this morning. A kilometre on, I passed the Albergue de Xagoaza. Looked nice.

There is no consistency in the shells: sometimes the head, sometimes the rays point towards Santiago. These are two signs on the official Galicia pillars.

Nor are the fig trees aren’t being consistent. Some offer me delicious tasty fruit. Some bear only shrivelled up lumps. Others display only bare branches.

Happiness is walking gently downhill, vines on one side, trees on the other, the sun coming up behind me, the occasional chirping of the birds, not like spring, of course, a bit of a haze in the air, a dog barking in the distance, water gurgling somewhere down a trough, and a man coming towards me, his pooch trotting behind, pausing, having a sniff, taking a pee, and then scrambling to catch up. Misery? I’ll probably let you know tomorrow.

All in all, an easy walk, along the river, on one side of the N536 or the other, with a detour up to Vilamartin for a coffee.

I am staying at the Hostal Mistal. Large room, two beds and bathroom. 29€. My poles are doing double duty supporting my washing.