Chapter 4 Ribadeo to Santiago

14th June
Ribadeo to Vilanova de Louranzá

I was late leaving, the ladies were still asleep on the settees, but most peregrinos had left by seven thirty when I closed the door. I turned right towards the coast and walked along looking for arrows. I found none, I stopped and came back. ‘The camino would follow the coast’ I reasoned, ‘I know where its going but surely not by the main road again!’ Well I could find no arrows or shell markers to follow and as I had seen no one leave, there was only one thing to do, go by the main road, and hope the camino crossed it.
As I walked I realised that the next albergue was twenty-seven not eleven kilometres as my list of albergue’s stated. I kept looking for arrows or shell signs all day without seeing any. If I remember correctly I found a white ribbon and tried to make a song about it and scribbled some words down. I arrived in a village and stopped in a bar at the top of a hill, here I had a coffee and a ‘bocadillo’ (sandwich). I was sitting at the bar and several people came in and a conversation started and I tried to follow it but without success.
“Galicana is a language not a dialect” the man explained when I spoke to him about it and he apologised for using it in front of me.
“No ‘problemas,” I said “you were not to know I could speak any Spanish and it is after all your land.”




From here I walked into the town of Vilanova de Louranza passing an ancient bridge. In the square
I asked and found the albergue, a nice building on the left and it was open. The Dane and the Swiss chap were already here and seemed to have commandeered the smallest bedroom. I went upstairs and mopped the floor because it was very dusty but the beds were good and the building new. All clean and washing hung out, I went into town, where I bought meat and vegetables but found I could only buy two kilos of potatoes. I asked a lady outside of a hairdressers if she knew where I could get one potato “yes” she said “come with me” and she took me into her house and into a garage, here she gave me two kilo of potatoes free!
“I only want one potato!” I explained.
“Leave the rest in the albergue” she insisted.
Next the tourist office supplied me with several camino maps and a super road map much to the surprise of the Dane who was with me.
“How the hell do you do it?” he said “you charm all the women.”
“It’s my four-leaf clovers” I said raising my eyebrows!
Back at the albergue I cooked up a great meal and shared the wine with the two guys and Cathy and Marie, the two French ladies who had arrived and moved into the other dormitory. They told us they lived in Germany and we got on well together and all shared the last of the bottle of wine.



15th June
Vilanova de Louranzá to Mondoñedo


I chatted to Cathy and Marie as I left that morning about the clovers and the luck they bring. Then I left and climbed the steep hill by an ancient pathway with overhanging trees. This came to the top of the hill and opened up into a wider track and I found one four-leaf clover. I discovered later Marie also found one here more or less in the same place. The way now was true camino dirt track, forest most of the way, it was a lovely walk. I had decided to do just a small section today as the next part added to this bit would be too far. Time I had a short day anyway and I arrived early in Mondonedo. Coming into town I saw a fish van selling wet fish to the locals, I bought a half kilo of mussels, five prawns and two large sardines. The guy selling them told me where to find the albergue.
I went up into the town.
Here I had a problem. I was the first to stop as the Dane and Swiss had gone on. I had to get the key off the police at the police station. Ok, no problem till the copper said he’d stamp my carnet, he then kept it and said that I could have it back in the morning when I returned the key. But when questioned I found out they didn’t open till half seven. That meant I couldn’t leave till then. But there seemed nothing I could do. I took the key and searched for the albergue, up a back street in the highest part of town. It was well fitted out and stood next to a dilapidated church. There were two big dormitories up stairs and a lounge and kitchen downstairs. After doing the washing etc, I cooked some little green peppers and salted them. Called Pimientas Perdón they are great and this was the first time I had tried to cook them, but they were so easy. It’s like Russian roulette - every now and again you get a hot one. I now cooked my prawns, mussels, and fish and a young Italian man arrived. He was walking to Oviedo. He had walked the French Camino and was now going back to France this way contra the arrows! We shared the few prawns and a glass of wine. Later the man from Galicia came in too, I had already found out he only walked as far as he wanted then he would get a bus. But it wasn’t that that worried me, as soon as he lay down and rested he snored and it was so loud! Cathy and Marie also arrived and took the higher Dormitory upstairs. I went down into the town and got into conversation in a little bar in a back street. The old man was well oiled on the wine and wanted to pay for my drink but I refused and then I treated him to one. I left him after a while and went back. I found Cathy and Marie eating and they suggested we come up to the other dorm if the snoring got too bad, they said they could even hear him upstairs when he had fallen asleep on his arrival! They also informed me that they’d had to leave their credentials at the police station. As they were going to leave late in the morning anyway it wouldn’t matter, they offered to return the key. I went back to the police station and got the policeman on duty to give me my credential. The two girls would return the key I told him and he agreed. That done I got a guided tour round the big cathedral with an elderly man who had come over to tell me not to take photos inside. Then in the square my old drunk friend tagged on to me again and we found another bar. I text Maisie and she thought I meant it was me that was drunk! Not quite, as yet anyway. On the way back I called in a bar restaurant near the albergue. Here I found the Galicano and the Italian lad. Another wine and I found the Galicano was not such a bad chap and I spent a while chatting to them then I left while they had their meal. I returned to the albergue and I moved my bedroll up a floor to the other dormitory, I wanted to sleep.



16th June
Mondoñedo to Vilaba



I had looked around the night before to see where I should leave from, and someone said as I walked from the lower part of town up hill, turn left at the fountain but I got it all wrong. They probably said after the fountain. Anyway this morning I came down from the albergue in the opposite direction and turned right and went under a house archway and turned left and climbed some way up a steep hill and came to a gate across the path. I felt sure I was wrong and turned round and went all the way back down. Next to the archway under the house, a street turned left, up a hill again. I walked a little way and looked through a doorway. I saw two bakers making bread for the day. They kindly put me right, I had to go back to the fountain then past it up the hill, the way I had come from the albergue, and turn left. There on the wall at the fork I found the shell! I had passed it yesterday and on the way down today with out seeing it!
Climbing the narrow streets I came to the top and out of the town. I could see the albergue and a street that would have brought me here much sooner had I known. But now I had arrows to follow and set off up a very steep and hard climb up a mountain to the Plato. It was very pretty all the way up through forest and a couple of little hamlets.



On the way up the Galicano chap that snores passed me as I stopped to rest and relieve myself, his pack not much bigger than a daypack. I walked fast behind him for a while and he sped up to show how fit he was to the Australian. I slowed down then to a sensible pace as I reached a very steep dirt track to the top. Down a hill I could see it was beautiful rolling farm country ahead. On coming down into a small village I was gasping for a coffee and, as I came round the bend there appeared a bar. Right place right time, I mused. I stopped for the coffee, the two girls had said they thought you could stop the night here sometimes. I went on and found the Galicano outside a hotel on the other side of the village. From the snippet of his conversation I heard, I believe he was finding out if he could get a lift to the next albergue that was some seventeen kilometres ahead. Yes I chuckled to myself, you can walk faster than the
Australian if you only do half the distance per day! I pushed on to the next albergue at Vilaba and to my surprise there it was this side of town. There were no restaurants near and although it was a big modern building there were only two of us booked in and yes, the other one was the Galicano! He had taken a bus! I did the usual chores, had a ‘clara’ beer and lemonade in a bar next door and found out they would be open for breakfast in the morning . Then I went back and cooked up a bowl of soup in the albergue kitchen. That night I took a bed as far away as I could get from my room mate at nine o’clock. I had walked about thirty-seven kilometres today and it looked to be about thirty tomorrow.


17th June
Vilaba to Baamonde


I had a good breakfast and set off following the arrows alongside a big main road. I then crossed over by a bridge and now followed a small road up to the town proper. I had a good look round and took some photos of the Torre dos Andrade, now a parador. Then the arrows led me to a dirt camino and I followed that. It was nice at first but hard going, as it was quite hot. I stopped at a café just off the track at about ten thirty. It was a small place and full of lorry and delivery van drivers and some men may have been hunters. It looked as if there was a lot of hunting done here as three boars heads stuck out of the wall on one side. Two of them looked comical as they had straw hats and sunglasses on. I got my coffee at the bar and tried to follow the conversation as the men bantered with a female van driver and I gathered they got back as much as they gave her. As the conversation slackened I turned to the young man next to me and said
“Do they shoot them round here like that,” pointing to the pig with the hat.
He looked at me and nodded
“Yes” he said, then he noticed my grin and turned back to take another look at the pig.
He turned back and said grinning,
“Without the hat and glasses on” and we both laughed.

Or the story as I like to tell it

It looked as if there was a lot of hunting done here because three boar’s heads looked down from the wall on one side. Two of them looked comical as they had straw hats and sunglasses on. The biggest one winked an eye at me as I entered and went up to the bar. I got my beer and tried to follow the Spanish conversation as the men bantered with a female van driver and I thought they got back as much as they gave her. As the conversation slackened I turned to the young man next to me,
“Do they catch them here like that,” I said pointing to the big tusked and straw hatted vicious looking hairy pig that was grinning down at me.
The young man turned to me and nodded
“Yes” he replied, then he noticed my smile and turned back to take another look at the pig.
He turned back and said grinning,
“Usually without the hat and sunglasses” and we both laughed.
“Oh we have much bigger ones in Australia called a ‘Woipertinger’” I said and winked back at the pig. “Their rear legs are massive like a kangaroo! Make super hams if you can catch one. Hellish hard to catch though! There’s only one way, because as you line up to fire your gun they’ll jump two meters in the air! No hope of hitting one with a bullet. I’ll show you if you come to Australia one day. The only way is to chase it for ten kilometres or more in a jeep and when it stops and removes its hat and sunglasses, to wipe the sweat from its eyes, jump out of the jeep and ram that hat over its eyes and tie its legs together.”























Getting back to what really happened:

I arrived at Baamonde, a small town, fairly early but could not get in nor find the key. I asked at the bar and rang the number and got sent to find a woman in the hairdressers but couldn’t find the hairdressers! In the end I went to a restaurant and in it I saw the Galicano and he by all accounts was already in and told me to put my hand round through the window and get the key. There was no way he could have walked and got there before me I thought. I had a meal and it was very ordinary but expensive. I went back after the meal and the place was half full and the woman put me in a downstairs room on my own. But it soon filled up as lots of cyclists and several van loads of tourists showed up to get a cheap nights lodgings. The local bar gave the impression of being a bit wild with several good-looking sexy girls working there. I was not having a very good day and after chatting to a Spanish couple I got my washing dry then went to bed.



18th June
Baamonde to Sobrado de Monxes


Before I left I managed to receive a message from Maisie to say she wasn’t well but was unable to reply because of a bad signal. The first part led me along the road parallel with the railway. It turned left and crossed a lovely old stone bridge and past a beautiful little church hidden in the forest with a fountain in front of it. Then it wound its way past moss covered stone walls and I climbed up to the top of a big hill through the trees. Here I tried again to contact Maisie with no luck. The sun now rose higher and coloured the country with soft tinted light, as I set off again. The Spanish couple caught up with me and I


walked with them for a little way. I walked with the man first then I dropped back to talk to his charming wife but their pace was very fast. I noticed the two of us were getting left behind, and I could see she wanted to close the gap so I wished her well and said I would see them later if we stopped in the same place tonight. I managed to get water from a man that set his pump going from a well but I couldn’t get bread anywhere. The track crossed a moor for ten or so kilometres and then rolling hills. There was nowhere to get anything to eat or drink. As I came to another small sleepy village I heard the harsh shriek of a grindstone and it stayed and increased in its volume as I walked. I came round a corner hemmed in by high stone walls with the noise at a crescendo and suddenly I saw through a gap in the wall a man standing on a rough scaffold using a hand held grindstone cutter on an almost life size elephant. The huge block of granite was very realistically carved. The head was smooth and I presumed almost complete. The body and legs were still ribbed by cuts made by the grindstone. I walked in and asked if I could take a closer look and he stopped his machine and told me how much it weighed, some five-ton I seem to remember. Whether that was before or after his cutting started I have no idea. It was very good but I could not but feel it was completely out of place in a sleepy Spanish village and I could only think ‘why an elephant?’ but I couldn’t risk offending him by asking the question. I thanked him and left him to his work and wondered what the neighbours thought of his noise and mammoth task, excuse the pun. The country rolled away into the distance as I ambled along still short of water and with little food. The phone was useless,
I could not text Maisie all day.


I could see a main road to my left but it promised nothing as far as I could see regarding a café or shops. So I kept to the country lane I was now on. After a while I found a shady spot near a tree in a field. Set well back stood a farm cottage. I thought if I see anyone I’ll ask for water but if not, I’ll leave it, most farm cottages had big dogs guarding them.
A barbed wire fence stopped me getting under the tree so I sat down on the verge with my feet in the roadside drainage trench, and promptly stood up again as a damn bramble drove itself into my backside. I looked more carefully next time and sat down again.
I now searched my rucksack for food.
One tin of sardines I’d carried for weeks.
A bag of pimientos - this bag of little green peppers were uncooked.
One raw cabbage leaf, stolen from a plant growing too near the road yesterday.
A small but thick slice of sweaty cheese, I couldn’t remember when I’d bought it. A tiny bit of chorizo sausage, at least a week or more old.
A rather ripe banana from yesterday but no bread!
I opened the sardines and started on them and got the oil everywhere, over jacket and trousers! I poured most of the oil away and ate a couple of fish. I decided something green would help them go down. I took a green pepper from the bag and chewed away. My suddenly mouth caught on fire.
“Wow!” I hollered aloud trying to blow on my own burning lips at the same time.
Trust me to find the hot one! Raw it was ten times hotter than when cooked. I gulped down some water and put that pepper to one side. I now tried the safer raw cabbage leaf with mayonnaise and sardines. The mayonnaise had a little crushed garlic in it. Not a good recipe but it helped the sardines a tiny bit. Still hungry after two thirds of the tin I tried the cheese. Now cheese is good, but cheese and thick sardine oil and sticky mayonnaise still clinging round the mouth and no bread to clear the palette, well! Somehow I finished the cheese and sardines and the cabbage and decided I could perhaps risk one more pepper to get rid of the sickly taste and damn me that was nearly as hot as the first. ‘Crikey! I’m going to be sick if I’m not careful’ I said to myself, ‘It’s as well I’ve finished the last sardine and last bite of cheese.’
All told it hardly filled a hungry stomach but it would have to do. My next worry was water.

Seeing a man working on a water pump by the fence I asked if I could get drinking water anywhere. He came over and led me to a big open water tank complete with thick green slime on the top. He fiddled with the ball cock and water squirted into the tank. Taking my bottle he removed the cap and rinsed the bottle with the slimy green water from the tank. He then filled it from the pipe! I would have been much happier had he not bothered to carry out that rinse but I could not tip it away and try again. I tasted it and it seemed ok. Oh well my stomach should be able to cope with a few germs after eating a lunch like I’d had.
I went on.
It was pretty hot and I walked till about two thirty and was running out of water again. A cluster of houses could be seen ahead and one had a beer advert outside. My prayers were answered I thought and went in. Yes a bar stretched away from near the door but no bar person behind it.
“Hola” I called several times.
It was a moment before a little old lady came waddling out of the room behind me. Her bright ginger colour hair looked as if it had not seen a brush for a week and was all sticking up. She came over rubbing her eyes
“What do you want” she said sticking a finger up her nose and digging around!
Oh Gord! I suddenly felt not hungry.
“Er a coffee” I asked tentatively wondering how hygienic that would be.
“No coffee” she replied!
“Er then a beer.”
“Only from a bottle”
“Bueno” I said thinking at least the liquid would be untouched by hand.
She was still digging round in her nose as she took the bottle from the fridge and put it on the counter. “Thanks” I said and started to drink it but I was very dehydrated and could feel it going straight to my head.
“Could I have a glass and some Casera lemonade please. I’m thirsty and think a ‘clara’ would be better.”
The glass came looking half-clean and the finger was still there. She let go for a moment and pulled out a Casera bottle and put it alongside the glass for me to pour. I poured myself a big cool ‘clara’, drank it and made another while she looked on.
“Been asleep on the floor in there” she said pointing towards the door where she had appeared from.
The beer still made my head feel light I needed something to eat to soak up the alcohol but what. Anadvert for ice cream hung from the wall behind me, I caught site of it as I shifted on my barstool. ‘Ice cream should be in a fridge and hygienic,’ it was worth a try.
“Have you got any of them” I said pointing “be nice and cool, it’s so hot today.”
“Yes I’ve got some, come and choose the one you’d like” and she led me through the darkened doorway into the shuttered back room and past her blanket on the floor.
“That’s where I was when you came in” she said as she lifted the lid of a big freezer.
“That one or this one” she said holding up the different ice creams, the cones completely foil wrapped I noticed
“Oh any one” I said so pleased they were in paper. I got my ice cream and returned to the bar where I finished my clara and paid her what I thought was a very small amount for my beer lemonade and ice-cream, so unwrapping my prize stepped out into the hot sun again. I felt rejuvenated but still had withdrawal symptoms for not finding a coffee. I would get one in the next village I promised myself.
The next village was miles away and by the time I got there I was very tired again. The monastery and albergue seemed over the other side of the village and every time I asked I was told they didn’t know how far it was.
“Maybe two to four kilometres, could be, I don’t really know” was a typical reply.
I found a bar and went in. Two children seemed to be in charge.
“A large white coffee” I asked in Spanish
“No coffee” said the oldest child.
Grandpa appeared from a door at the rear.
“No coffee” he confirmed.
Devastated I ordered a beer to cry in and swigged it down, paid and left. This was unheard of, ‘Two bars miles apart and no coffee! I’m in Spain! It’s gone to the dogs since I left twenty years ago,’ I said to myself as I plodded off through the village. I came out into the country again walking through thick woods with still no sign of the monastery, and I would not find it until much later and back on hard road again.
I came down a valley and passed a peaceful looking scene, a lake with two rowboats and fishermen casting their lines. As I looked I remembered my lost walking poles that made into a fishing rod, then I saw two towers in the distance. Now I came into Sobrado de Monxes and asked where I had to go. There was a big high stone wall on the left and houses to the right.
“Through the arch and round to the left” I was told.
This I did and came into the big Plaza and a bus was loading tourists by the arched entranceway into the monastery. I pushed my way through, with people staring at a peregrino in some distress, exhausted as he arrived after some forty-seven kilometres I later calculated it to be. You can imagine I was heavily dependent on my two sticks as I came up the magnificent entrance and the Spanish couple I had befriended last night shouted encouragement to me as I came on and told me where to go.
I entered the big doors into a office reception room and there were the smiling faces of Marie and Cathy and three Spanish men. They helped me dump my pack and one man stamped the carnet. Cathy and Marie kindly said they would show me the dorm.
We went through and came into a patio or cloister then under the arches and through another door on one side. This led into the dormitory, where a row of good solid looking bunk beds were down the left side of the big room. The Spanish couple had taken the first two lower bunks, then further down there was Marie and Cathy’s and I took the second to end one. All of us had taken the lower bunks. It was a fairly dark room with very subdued lighting but after a while I got time to look round a little more. I noticed the wall behind the beds was made of beautiful stone work, and behind each bed was a stone arch forming a recessed trough at about waist high, inside each recess was a slab dished like a bowl. We were in fact sleeping in the refurbished stables. Each was a horse-feeding trough.

It was very well done and at the far end were the showers and toilets and a place to do the washing. Opposite the beds in the centre of the dorm wall was a door that opened directly into a secluded outside area where we were to hang our washing. When a little later I went out there to hang my clothes to dry I found there were no washing lines as usual and no where to tie one, only a small clothes-horse that blew over in the wind as soon as you let go of it. I found a small stone and hoped the weight would stop it doing just that. Being late in I hoped it would dry before nightfall. I was informed by Cathy that there was a ten o’clock curfew.
“Well we had better get cracking and find somewhere to eat then” I said. “It’s getting on for eight now.”
“We have eaten but we’ll come with you for a coffee if you don’t mind” they said
“I’d love your company, I’ve been on my own all blessed day” and we walked out and into the town.
Oh there were bars and cafes everywhere but the only restaurant was closed and as the girls said it was a long way to the one they had used we chose a bar and asked if the lady would do some tapas for us. She agreed thinking we all wanted to eat and supplied us with three big plates of cold meats and cheeses and some crunchy bread. Bread! We washed it down with beer wine and orujo and had a great time chatting, with me telling them about my lunch and my day when I couldn’t even buy a coffee. Cathy told me how bad I had looked on arrival and Marie said she thought that it was not a good idea to get so exhausted.
“I’m a nurse” she stated looking at me as if I was one of her patients, “We took a car with a friend that we will be staying with in Santiago. She has an apartment there. It was a lovely ride.”
“Well today you did the right thing, that was a hell of a hard walk and hell of a long day, and if we don’t stagger back soon we will be sleeping under the arches. Come on lets go.”
Three happy and rather tipsy peregrinos collected their washing. I was particularly pleased at being reasonably successful with only one pair of socks still a little damp, and then we crashed into bed and slept



19th June Sobrado de Monxes to Arzúa



In fact we slept too well. The Spanish couple had left and we woke about seven and it must have been nearly eight by the time we left. I walked for a while with Cathy and Marie, then I stopped and tried to get bread from a bakers but was told to try the next village. I found the ladies too slow so with their blessing I went on. We did meet again later when I stopped for a coffee at a cross roads cafe in a village but I had been there a little while so it was I who left first and I never saw them again until much later that evening. It became very hot with very little shade and I was tiring fast and drinking lots of water. A herd of cows were driven into the road in front of me and I had to slow down behind them and got into conversation with the chap herding them along. He was, I suppose, a typical local farm worker and discussed the quantity of milk his favourite cow produced.
“That one with the big udder now she gives some forty five litres a day. She does nothing but eat that one” he boasted then continued “Would you have a bottle on you I could fill?”
I thought it a really kind gesture but thanked him and said I hadn’t. I had, but knowing I wouldn’t be comfortable drinking milk straight from the cow without it being pasteurised first, I refused the offer.
“Oh never mind then, have a good day” and the lead cows knowing the way turned down a track to my right and I waved goodbye and continued on.
Another rather amusing incident came a little later. I came round a bend and saw in front of me a bus shelter at the side of a road junction. Facing me and sitting on the bench seat in it were five old men. I bantered to them as I came up,
“You’ve found the best bit of shade round here for miles.”
They all shuffled around trying to make room for me to sit down.
“Don’t worry I’m young enough to get down here” I said in my bad Spanish, flopping down on the bit of concrete floor that was in the shade. They still wanted me to sit on the seat and were pushing up to one end but none really wanted to move out into the sun that was quite hot. I stayed where I was. The conversation became quite funny as the man in the middle translated my words into Gallego and one of the others made a reply in Gallego, the chap in the middle then translated it to Castellano for me.
I asked if they were waiting for the local talent to walk by, and very soon like most male conversations we got to talking about the opposite sex. It got quite naughty which I found quite funny because there could not have been one of them under seventy five years old.
“You behave yourselves when the next peregrinas come by later. They’re two French ladies and I’ve got to see they come to no harm” I joked.

I was beginning to wonder at this province! Was it full of old men like this?
"Well, you were there!" Was my wife’s comment while reading the first draft of this journey!
Only the other day I had chatted to an elderly man eating some windfall peaches outside his house where a much younger woman probably in her early forty’s was washing them just inside the wide open window, she could hear every word spoken. He gave me a peach and asked
“Where you from?’”
“Australia, the other side of the world”
“How long have you been away?”
“I started from Irun the French border the second of May.”
“Married?”
“Yes”
“You should take a Gallego woman while you’re here, they’re the best” he assured me pointing at the not too unattractive lady washing the peaches who smiled back at me but kept her hands in the sink and continued to wash the fruit.
“Have you heard what he’s saying” I bantered back to her raising my eyebrows and laughing.
She just smiled back!
‘Gawd! Am I being offered his wife or daughter?’ I wondered and decided I should move off before I got talked into something that I couldn’t talk my way out of.
“Better be off now, Adios amigos.”
“Adios” and they waved back!

I regress: lets get back to today, I left the old men to their watch and walked on and wondered if there ever was a bus that came by here, down this narrow lane.
It was very hot and still with very little shade, and some way further on I came to conflicting yellow arrows, one pointed straight on, the other pointed to the right. As I could see some houses to my right, I turned right and managed to call and get the attention of a lady hanging out her washing. She told me to keep going the way I was and I’d come to the main road and there to turn left and to stay on the main road all the way into town.
I did and as I came into town I found a really good bar with a menu for seven Euro so I had a nice meal on the raised patio. It was a hostel but they didn’t have any rooms to spare, so after eating I went into town to find the albergue. There were people everywhere, the nice little ‘plaza’ or square had a good café with sunshades and tables out and they were each full of happy peregrinos. I was back on the Camino Francés now! The albergue I discovered was just a street away but that too was supposedly full. The chap in charge passed me over to another man and he took me in his car back a long way to one street away from the hostel where I had eaten earlier, where there was a private albergue. At seven Euro a night I thought it quite good. I settled in but this too became crowded but was quite comfortable although there is always one person with a really loud snore as I discovered while taking a short siesta. I washed and showered and walked into town, it was quite a distance. I sat in a bar in the Town Square and got a bit fed up as I saw no one I knew. I received Maisie’s message saying, I thought reading between the lines, she wants me home. I had had no signal all day but recharging the battery I got one out saying I’d try to get my ticket changed on my arrival in Santiago. Then to my surprise I saw Cathy and Marie walk across the square and we sat and had a few drinks together, they had also found a private hostel but not the same one as me. When we parted later we agreed to meet in the same bar for breakfast in the morning.


20th June
Arzúa to Arca

I walked into the bar, there were only two people there. One of the chaps was the guy I had asked if Cathy and Marie were at the albergue the evening before. He obviously remembered because he asked me if I had found them.
“There were several came in later that might have been them, I gave them all your direction” he chuckled, “I wondered if you had found them.”
“Yes I did thanks, I’m waiting for them now” I replied
“We spend half our life waiting for the opposite sex” he laughed.

The bar soon became quite crowded and no wonder, the flaky pastry croissants with chocolate in were superb and I ate two.
Cathy and Marie arrived and I joined them at a table out on the Plaza. They had a coffee then we left. I stayed with them for some while but found it a bit slow for me. You get used to walking at your own pace and it’s hard to change. At the top of a hill I was in front when a young Spanish woman came by walking quite fast. I spoke to her and we chatted in Spanish and I felt very at ease with her as she was with me. I asked Patricia if she minded my company and she said no, and by the time I looked back we had left Cathy and Marie way behind. I knew they would not be offended and would come along at their own pace and wouldn’t mind my leaving.
Patricia was very attractive and a very feminine lady but a lady who knew her own mind and was very liberated if that’s the right word. Asked why she was walking the Camino she said it gave her a sense of freedom, to be away from all the chores and responsibilities of home. Here on the Camino she was her own boss and to her that was important. The mobile phone rang and it was her husband and she told him she was walking with an Australian. “Un buen hombre” she added and smiled across. I moved ahead to let her speak in some privacy.
A minute or two later she joined me again and we both told our stories. Patricia had walked the Camino several times but always the Camino Francés. She said she would be a little worried about walking the other routes because there were less people and albergues to stop at. I assured her it was not a problem and said a powerful walker as she obviously was, could do the distances easily. She could too, we were travelling at a great pace. It was me that was having to re adjust my speed, but I soon settled down to her pace. She asked what weight I was carrying and was amazed when I told her. She had a good-sized bag with about ten kilos I think. She was just great, sensible, interesting, attractive what more could I want in a walking companion.
She answered her phone again.


“Oh that was my son, they all worry about me, which is nice I know, but I can look after myself and they know it. If I had my way I’d throw this damn thing away” she said indicating the mobile phone in her hand. “When I can’t get a message back it’s me that finishes up worrying. Before I had the damn thing I never worried.”
“Same here” I replied “the family get worried when you can’t send a message and that happens quite often out here. My family bought mine. Trouble is it’s not just the phone to carry there’s charger, what with that and the camera and spare batteries and a charger for that as well,
It must be a good kilo and half or more”
“Same here,” she laughed “my son bought me mine. ‘You got to have one Mum, what if something should happen?’ he kept on at me. Well no one would worry till I got home would they, or if necessary I’d find a phone somewhere.”
Shortly it rang again, her son once again, her face was all smiles as she took the call. She was pleased she had that phone I know, but I knew what she meant, we had both had experienced it at times, when travelling on our Camino, way out on some mountain, the joy of being there all alone. You might just shout out loud knowing no one could hear you, the last thing you want is a phone to ring at that moment.
Patricia said she was going to stop at Arca as I had also decided.





“I like to leave early in the mornings” she said in passing. There were some people ahead sitting on a bench and she said “Excuse me, I see some of my friends” and left my side and went across to them. I carried on on my own for a while till a few kilometres out of Arca at the top of a hill I found two cafes, I decided to try the one across the road and crossed over. I got a beer and a bocadillo and sat outside and Patricia came by on the other side of the road and I called to her and she said she wanted to make up for the time she had stopped and wanted to get to Arca soon. So promising to meet me later she went on, while I finished my sandwich and wine. A while later I crossed the road again and followed in her tracks. I was pretty hot and sweaty by the time I arrived at the albergue about two thirty but it wasn’t open, we had to put our bags in line and wait. I could not see Patricia anywhere, she must have gone on I thought. I left my rucksack and had a coffee up the road then came back as the queue started to go in. I got a good bunk near another long distance walker in a recess similar to what I had had before here. It seemed strange to be in the same place that my good friend Piero and I had stopped in and I had met the charming Lisa. I put out my washing and bumped into Cathy and Marie. They were pleased to see me and I was forgiven for leaving them. We went for a meal at my local, the bar up the road, and were pretty well oiled by the time we returned at eleven o’clock. At the entrance of the albergue Mari received a phone message that said her old mother had been taken sick and was in hospital. There was little signal and the mobiles would not send out or receive now. We tried the phone box with no luck and we racked out brains for an alternative but poor Marie could not find out how bad her mother was. As always at a time like this you fear the worst. In the end we had to go to bed and hope she could find out more in the morning. I slept fairly well but Cathy and Marie hardly got a wink of sleep, what with worrying and then a woman in their dorm said she had been robbed at about five in the morning and this had woken everyone up again.

21st June
Arca to Santiago Compostela

I was out in the café when I saw Marie. She said she had managed to get through to home and it seemed everything was under control and her Mum was in good hands. Marie is a nurse so naturally wanted to be there. I left with the idea that they would take a taxi to Santiago. I left the café and found my way out of the town and was walking through a wood and had just stopped to text Maisie. I just sent it and heard my name called and looked up to see the pretty face of Patricia
“Hola” she said smiling
“Hi. Oh I’m so glad to see you, the French ladies have had problems. One of the ladies Mother is sick and they won’t be walking today and it looked like I’d have to walk into Santiago all alone and I was not looking forward to that. It’s something that should be shared. "
“The girlfriend I was walking with went sick two days ago and took a taxi to Monte de Gozo. I have received a message to say she thinks she is well enough to walk from there into Santiago if we go very slowly.” She added, “you can walk in with us if you like.”

Of course I said I would love to and we set off through the woods. There were many peregrinos now and we were walking much slower than yesterday and I put that down to that strange feeling that you get, not wanting to arrive and for it to be all over. We chatted and laughed on our way telling each other about things that had happened to us. We were just saying that we could do with a coffee and I had said I couldn’t remember there being a café when we came into a village and there was one on the right.
There were lots of people in it but we pushed our way in and found a table. I went to the bar to order and waited sometime to get served. Patricia came over and the barman suddenly took notice! We got our order and stayed at the bar to drink it. I had finished mine but Patricia had half left when she looked at her watch.
“Oh god! I am supposed to meet Toni at ten at Monte de Gozo come on.”
With that she grabbed her rucksack and was halfway out the door before I had hardly moved.
I could remember passing a sign saying it was nine kilometres to Monte de Gozo. My watch said nine, that was one hour to do nine kilometres. Impossible but it looked as if Patricia was determined to try. Ok it would be fun to try, we had an hour. My two sticks hit the road in rapid succession and I caught up after a few minutes. We were both going well, and luckily it was cool. We passed other peregrinos as if they were standing still. On one steep hill I pulled ahead but didn’t worry as it would give Patricia encouragement to go faster and I think it did because she soon caught up with me and we raced along together and then saw the first signs to Monte de Gozo. Down a hill then between some houses and up another hill.
“There she is” Patricia cried waving to a young blond woman and she pulled ahead of me. They met and flung their arms about each other and tears streamed down their cheeks. Two Camino friends had been reunited. I stood waiting for them to part and when they did Patricia introduced me to Toni. “We have just done nearly nine kilometres in less than an hour” I said to Toni looking at my watch amazed.
I now believe I must have got the distance wrong because I’m sure we could not have done that nine kilometres in an hour but it must have been more than seven.
While the two girls said a little thank you prayer, I lit a candle in the little chapel that stands here. I had seen it several times as I had walked by, but it had never been open before.
Toni looked very pale and tired and I felt for her, I could see she badly wanted to complete this part of the walk, she wanted to arrive. I had given Patricia a cloverleaf and now as we walked on I gave one to Toni. It seemed to give her a little more strength and we walked gently into the outskirts of the big city. We crossed a busy road at one point and started to walk past a tall monument that seems to be dedicated to all the Popes. There was a lot of clover growing in the short grass. I had been looking all morning with no luck but here I bent down and found a little five-leaf clover. I shouted to the girls and they stopped and I gave it to Patricia
“Now we shall have a good day” I said laughing and we carried on into our city and the final kilometres.
We came into the old town and there were lots of people about but we were arriving, nothing else seemed to matter. We came down some steps under part of the cathedral, past a man playing a guitar. Now we were in the huge Plaza de Obradoiro and walking excitedly over to the shell cut in the paving stones in the centre. I could see it and there was no one standing on it. We each placed a foot on it, the three of us circled in a huddle, our heads down, tears streaming down our faces as we hugged each other crying we’ve arrived
“Ha llagado, ha llagado”. The power of this moment is almost impossible to describe each heart pounding fit to burst, thoughts racing. I had done it again, another four hundred kilometres this time I’d finished with my two beautiful Spanish girls by my side, both unable to believe they had walked here despite the sickness of Toni’s. We started to break up to kiss each other on the cheeks to congratulate each other separately. As we lifted our heads and I moved to the side of Patricia, we all looked straight into a bank of cameras and camera flashes. The surprise and embarrassment showed on each of the girl’s faces. We had not realised it but we were the only pilgrims at that moment to arrive in the square and as such had been spotted by the busloads of tourists that were milling about in the square. This was what it was all about for them, snap a photo of pilgrims arriving loaded and tired after an eight hundred kilometre walk. What better than two beautiful Spanish señoritas and a old man with a floppy hat and massive rucksack hugging and kissing each other! One man said in English he was from old Croatia as he came in for a close up shot. Wiping way the tears we set about taking shots of our own and got a man to take one. Then Patricia spotted friends coming over and I was greeted into a big crowd of Spanish men. I had been very fortunate. This girl and her friend were very popular. Photos were taken of all of us then we went into the cathedral by the big main door at the top of the steps and again I risked getting trapped by the lions and touched the smooth place on the pillar and the two girls did likewise. Then we hugged the Santo and returned to try to find a place in the pews, there was little space left. I put my bag at the end and found a seat but I was apart from the girls and their group. They were behind me now. As I spoke to the man on my left, I was amazed when he said he was a Anglican priest. Next to him sat his wife. They had come by coach he told me.I was able to give them an idea of what was happening as the service progressed.
The big incense burner swung and filled the air

with its pungent smoke and when it stopped they untied it from its rope and carried it away. Coming out of the side door into the other small square we all grouped up and they said they would find a place to sleep and wash then we should meet at two thirty, here on this side by the fountain. I agreed to be there and trotted off to my old Hostel. My landlady greeted me and she said it was a little difficult, as a lot of students were in town this week but she would find me something if I left my bag with her. This I agreed to when she said I could use a shower in a room above the café. I got back into the little side square before two thirty, no one was there yet so I went up to the credential office and got my second pilgrim certificate for this trip. I arrived back in the square and the girls and the group were there now. It was now I got confused with the language. I noticed the girls still had their backpacks with them. Patricia then said to me,
“Stay with the men they are going to eat.”
A big man called José Luis seemed to be in charge and was discussing where they were going to eat. I gathered the girls were going to find a place to sleep. I presumed we would all meet up later.
Toni waved for me to follow them and everyone was talking at once. Anyway I stayed with the men as the girls left, unsure whether I should have gone with them or not.
I couldn’t quite understand why José Luis should be in charge, he had been to Santiago once before but could find nothing cheap in the way of restaurants. We looked in a couple or three places and eventually it was agreed we should eat in one I had not tried before. The meal was good, really a tapas meal of tortilla, squid and braised beef or fish and chips and a sweet. We washed it down with a good Ribero wine. It was a lively party and the company was cracking jokes and telling stories that I tried hard to understand. One chap from Peru seemed to be the brunt of some of the jokes but it was not taken personally. We had a good time and the dinner went on for some time. When we eventually came out we all drifted off in different directions. I was not to see any of them again except for José Luis who I saw the following day and when asked he said Patricia and Toni had caught the train and left. Sadly I had lost touch with them probably for good this time.
I wandered around and had a beer and met a German girl, Gina, who had chatted with Cathy, Marie and me in Arca. She wanted somewhere to stay so I took her back to my hostel. There were no rooms vacant I was informed except with me so we went to look to see what I had been given.
The bar lady took us down the road this time to number twenty-two and sure enough I now had a room but it was just a small room in the centre with a window into a tiny patio but the thing was it only had a small double bed. We decided that was not on and asked if there was any other alternatives, Gina said it would be to hot to the woman landlady! The woman used the phone then gave us the name of a hostel at the end of the road that had a room at forty-five Euro a night. On looking at this Gina said this room big as it was, was not good enough. I gave up hope of helping her and left her to go back into town alone to look for a hotel. Back at my hostel the landlady pulled my leg something rotten about the bed being too hot. She was quite a jolly woman and we got on well and chatted for a while before I went back into town. Here I met Cathy and Marie again. There was some sort of fiesta on with different shows being put on in different squares at different times, giving you just enough time to swap venues. We watched a typical Spanish band that reminded me of Jo and John in Alfaz so many years ago, then we found two young men in the street with a piano that they played together.
I have never seen such playing in my life! They played jazz and popular tunes at different speeds, fooling about with them all the time. They were fantastic. From there we found ourselves in the small square with the fountain, where we saw a group playing the instruments depicted in the carvings around the portal above the column holding the statue of Santiago, the one we all put our hands on. We were now transfixed as they played and sang for some three-quarters of an hour. From here we went to the main square and listened to the guitarists playing pasodobles and other tunes. Here the ladies bought a music disc each of the college band to play at home. Next we had a go at doing the pasodoble round the square. All tired out after an exhausting day I walked Cathy and Marie back to their apartment. This was some way back on the edge of town near where we had walked into the city. That was a most wonderful and such a great day I thought as I got back to my little room and its hot bed!










22nd June Santiago Compostela


I met Cathy and Marie in the square and we did the ritual in the cathedral all over again, including the church service. Unfortunately for them the incense burner never swung this time, Cathy said it was because I never put enough in the plate yesterday! We arrived at the part where the peregrinos can take the Holy Communion and a great number went up to the priest. I suddenly had a strong pain in my chest from a bout of indigestion, I reached into my jacket and took out a indigestion pill. Cathy, sitting next to me saw me pop it in my mouth, and now had the hardest job not to burst out laughing, and sat trying to choke it back through this very serious moment in the service.
I dared not look at her for fear of starting off myself. Luckily this was one of the last parts of the service as the burner was not swung and we hurried outside, where she promptly poked me in the ribs laughing, thinking that I had done it on purpose.
We arranged to meet in the square at seven in the evening to eat. They had to find out bus times as they wanted to go to Fisterra the next day and a bus to Bilbao at nine am Friday. I left them to go back to their apartment to eat first, while I walked to the train and bus stations for my own travel details for going home. I had not realised just how far the bus station was from the train station. I set off walking to the bus station after getting details of train times etc. It was a very hot day and I had forgotten to bring a town map and wandered miles, often out of my way, before finding it. By this time I was bathed in sweat. I found out costs and times once again and although cheaper, it would mean twenty-four hours on a bus seat. Whereas for a bit more money I could sleep on the train. I also realised I would have another twenty-four hours sitting on the plane after arrival in Paris. That would be forty-eight hours sitting up in a seat. I decided I would use the train! I came away from the window and to my surprise saw Marie and Cathy walk in. The timing could not have been better, we returned to the office window and I was able to help them now get their tickets. All completed we decided it was too hot to walk all the way back to the city, it must have been forty degrees out there in the sun, so we took a bus! While they shopped I sent and read my emails. This took ages and I still forgot to look at our web site! We met up again as arranged and searched for a suitable restaurant. It may have been the time of day or something but we could not find anything for a while till we looked in a place that had an Italian chef. It looked good and we wanted to celebrate a little for this was to be our goodbye meal. The food was good, sopa del marisco (Shellfish soup) for Cathy and me, Marie a Ensalada Mixta (Salad with tuna fish) and then Merluza (Hake) for the girls while I had the Tenería al horno (Veal from the oven). All was washed down with a nice bottle of Ribeiro and three bottles of mineral water, as it was so warm still. We finished the meal with a nice tarta de Santiago. But the real charm of this meal came from the table next to us. Here a young Portuguese couple who spoke French fluently, were eating with their two young children. The youngest child took to Marie immediately and had us all charmed with her antics as she went from Marie and the next table and her mother. Now Marie and Cathy could speak their native French and were very happy to do so for a change, and Cathy now translated for me when necessary, where as normally she had to translate my English to Marie who’s English was not so fluent. We had coffee all together and finished with the young couple trying the orujo of course. We left here a little tipsy and I now set out to walk back with them to their apartment. This was a long way and passed through the Cervantes Plaza. We got to here all right but there were two or three similar narrow streets off it. In our happy state we were not quite sure which street to take, and decided on one which of course was wrong, although we did eventually come out on what I thought was the main road behind a church. If it was the road, we should cross it but none of us knew whether to go left or right first, to find the road junction. We were lucky as always, I was carrying several four-leaf clovers! We took a chance and turned left and soon came to the junction and got back on the right street again and arrived at the apartment.
Thanking them both for a lovely evening I said goodnight. I now had to walk all the way back across the old city. I found and crossed the main road again ok but, oh dear after that it was not so easy to find my way back to the cathedral!
I blame it on the fact that there were few people about at this hour and the narrow streets so dimly lit, and shop windows all shuttered up! Those same streets looked completely different in the daytime, crowded with happy tourists and peregrinos looking in those shop windows, and you have stars in your eyes looking for yellow arrows and the first glimpse of the magnificent cathedral towers, and dreaming of the moment of (llegado) your arrival.


23 rd June
Santiago Compostela

Cathy and Marie were going by bus to Fisterra for the day so I spent the day roaming around for train tickets and on the Internet. I managed to get everything planned then at seven I brought a T shirt for Maisie and the shopkeeper gave me a book on the French Camino, after I had spent my money too! I will send him a book that I promised him sometime. I took everything back to my room and went back and met Cathy in the square. She asked me to go with her to meet her friend Martine who owns the apartment, and join in the sardine fiesta that would be on nearby.
My landlady had already told me about it and how good it was, so now we walked back to a little square near their apartment, and met Marie. Two Spanish girls joined us, Esperanza and Gelis and a little later Martine.
Martine’s a schoolteacher and speaks Spanish, French, German, and English. Her arrival was a great help as I had to translate from my own and Cathy’s English to Spanish and from Spanish of the new girls, back to English for Cathy. Then Cathy would translate it to French for Marie. At one point a French man joined the conversation for a little while and Cathy translated for him too, we had a lot of fun and all understood each other, most of the time. A big bonfire burned in the middle of the Plaza and ashes were pulled to one side and a big grill covered with hundreds of sardines laid on it. When one side was cooked they pulled it off and turned the sardines and put it back again at. The pretty fair haired Esperanza bought us a pottery bowl full of red wine that you could refill, we then waited to get a slice of bread and a cooked sardine. They were great and we ate several. But it was a big crowd and it was a job to get served. As the evening went on we were all pretty boozed and Cathy got a bottle of red to save going back for a refill so often. Esperanza grabbed me and whispered in my ear and pointed out to me a grey haired man, saying,
“He’s Martine’s ex husband. Go across and put your arm around her. He’s sure to see and think that she’s got a new boy friend, it will make her day.”
I moved across and put my arm around Martine’s shoulders and gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek. She looked surprised but saw the girl’s faces and realised what they had set up, and put her arm around my waist and we all started to giggle.
All the food went and a ring formed around the fire. Youngsters started to jump over the embers at the edge of the fire.
“Come on! You have to jump the fire," Esperanza said, egging me on.
I realised that this was what was happening to all the young men here, each must now try to prove his manhood by jumping the fire. I, at sixty-five was being baited too. I must get out of this somehow, my mind raced, if I got in early and jumped over the edge now, while the main fire was too big, I would get away with my pride intact. I could say later as they jumped the main fire “Oh I already have” thus I’d be able to get out of trying to jump it with only half a lie. I lined up the easy bit I intended to jump. I shot forward just as a young girl did the same from the other side and we were heading for the same spot God!!!!! If we collided we could both fall in the fire! I turned a fraction as I leapt and luckily she did the same but the opposite way towards the fire!
We touched fractionally and she landed just clear of the flames scattering red-hot coals. That was enough for me I had almost sent the poor girl to a horrible death just to be manly in front of my charming female companions. Laughing it off I joined them saying
“Enough is enough, no more.”
But now someone started a small fire to one side and I was frog marched by Cathy and Martine over to it and we all jumped it three times and each made a wish. Well that I could do! And the wish? Sorry can’t say that, might stop it coming true.
Martine now told us we should all go and see the other fires in the town from a nearby viewpoint. We all wandered down some very narrow and poorly lit streets and came out into a very old lookout point. Ancient walls and mossy stone steps near an old church, all extremely dark. Leaning against an old stone wall, we all gazed out across the valley onto the distant city, that was under a pale moon in a star lit sky, it was so beautiful.
“Wow! Here I am in the right place at the right time again” I said to Cathy.
“Just wonderful!” she replied spellbound.
In the distance, amongst the flickering streetlights we could see curling smoke and moonlit haze across the valley but there weren’t a great number of fires.
“Last year it had seemed as if the whole city was afire. Oh! You should have seen it! Every plaza was ablaze! The new insurance laws have ruined the city’s fiesta.” Martine said disappointedly.
After my close shave with the fire-leaping maidens of Santiago, I at least understood the insurance problem. But just to stand here and to have the privilege to look across and see the old city of Santiago though this wispy haze, under a moonlit night sky was an experience never to be forgotten.
Back at the bonfire young men were leaping a large fire of red-hot coals four feet high and ten feet across and were often landing with one foot scattering the glowing coals. The ring of watchers around the fire never left more than four paces to run before the scary leap. Now a wooden pallet was thrown on and it to soon bust into leaping flames. Young men were still jumping and landing with one foot on it and pushing off again to land on the other side with legs singed of hair. That’s right, most were jumping in shorts! As the pallet burned, one man nearly fell headfirst in the flames when his foot broke the burning pallet slat.
“Time to leave I’m afraid, I must go home” Esperanza said and we all said a sad farewell leaving the young men to their revelry.
Sadly I would not see Cathy and Marie in the morning, they were off to Germany and I to Vigo to once again see my Spanish friends, Nieves and Angel who I’d met two years ago while walking the Francés Camino.
Cathy walked with me to the crossroads, here I gave her a hug and turned and crossed the road into the old city. The one problem with the Camino is having to say goodbye the your new friends.