The bell on the church tower metallically struck nine as we passed through the centre of town. Al late start! Bright ceramic Camino markers led us to the outskirts where we began walking along the disused railway line. This we followed all the way to our destination, some 30 kilometres later.
These old railway lines are always great paths to follow because the gradients are slight, and indeed we did climb gradually for most of the day. Recalling the steam trains of my youth, I could imagine the engine puffing to get up the hill and then relaxing into a a steady rhythm as the track levelled out.
As we climbed, the terrain changed.. Cultivated fields gave way to pasture land and wooded areas dominated by eucalypts. Gone as well was yesterday’s yellow flourish of flowers in the ditches. The sage leaf rock rose was dominant and sometimes extended into the neighbouring fields. We saw our first cork oak. I remember learning that unlike other trees, the cork oak doesn’t die if its bark is stripped, as if the creator had made an exception in this case, so that we would have an abundance of corks for our bottled wine.
Occasionally a road crossed the railway line, and on one occasion we hesitated before continuing. The way was clearly marked, but a lady in a car stopped, anxious to help. It is a universal human pleasure to give directions to someone who seems to lost. It doesn’t cost you anything and you feel good afterwards. But she wanted to send us in the opposite direction. We pointed to the signs and the arrows, but no, that was not the right way. Finally she gave up with a snug, and drove off thinking, “Those idiots, they’ll be sorry.”
We were walking on the Atlantic cycle trail so many cyclists passed us in both directions. No other pilgrims though. The friendliest beings we encountered were some donkeys who came to greet us as we passed. It was an easy walk with its slight gradients, but long for me.
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