8. Benlle to Saxamonde. 19 kms

Albergue Alternativo

 What a joy it is to reach 

The summit of a hill!

Halfway up the bloody climb

You never think you will.

The hospitality of Dries at the Albergue Alternativo  was matched only by that of Fernanda several stops back in Portugal. I could tell Dries was a good fellow by the way he treated his dog, who always seemed to be occupying the chair you were about to sit in. It was not a place for the faint-hearted or lovers of luxury: the rooms were very small and there was only one toilet for ten people. Outside was a yurt and several smaller tents for the overflow, and a kind of treehouse and various outbuildings. Apart from the house, Dries had built everything himself, including an outdoor shower and toilet which offered little privacy. Lengths of lumber lying around the yard promised future construction. A good meal and breakfast were included ($30 all in), and what impressed me most was the concern for his guests, which extended to offering advice and booking ahead for us.

In the morning, Dries recommended an alternative route to the next town to avoid an industrial area, but it was a kilometre longer and began uphill, so I took the easier, less pleasant route.

On either side of the industrial road was a long line of large, oblong buildings outdoing each other in ugliness. One was making a threatening rumble; another belching noxious fumes, leaving an acrid odour in the air. However, as someone will point out, if it wasn’t for these ugly places, I wouldn’t be driving a car or wearing clothes or dictating into this electronic gadget. I was fortunate to be able to walk through, and not live here.

I stopped at O Porrini for a coffee and tortilla.

Then I left town, and after a couple of kilometres along the highway I took a quiet, rural road into the woods. As I sat on a bench, a string of electric bikes passed by. These are becoming more numerous. Are the albergues charging for a charge, I wonder.

And speaking of bikes I ran into the big Japanese fellow on the small bike. He explained to me that the bike was small, because it folded up for transport on the plane. Of course!

I was on the Via XIX again, but now it was a tarmacked road. Unfortunately the ancient roads survive only if later road planners found a better route.

Half way up a 200m climb, I changed my mind about how far I was going today. Dries had reserved a place for me in Redondela, but I phoned him, and he kindly cancelled my reservation and got me in at the Albergue O Corisco, three kms nearer. What a joy it is to reach the summit of a hill, to enjoy the levelling out, and to see a sandy path descending gently to a cold beer.