September 30, 2003
Rest day in Ponferrada
We hadn't planned a rest day, but its pouring. By the time it eased up at noon, we had booked another night in the hotel. So today was our first day to hang out, drink innumerable cups of espresso and cafe con leche and read books.
Our hotel is a lovely spot to rest. Typical of homes here, the windowed wall has a small balcony. At night the windows close tight on the outside and shutters on the inside, so its both quiet and dark. During the day you can fling them both open and the life in the plaza virtually comes into the room. Great had we been so lucky - - our room looked over a construction site. But you get an idea of the possibilities.
October 1, 2003
Ponferrada => O Cebreiro
55 km today / 643 km to date
Its still pouring with rain. But the biggest vertical climb to the trip -- 2500 feet -- is calling us. We delay as long as possible drinking enough coffee to waterlog us, but eventually have to admit we're stuck with this weather. We've checked the weather forecast -- our Spanish is improving -- and it calls for improvement, but only marginal.
We don our rain jackets and off we go. We're soaked within minutes. But the air temperature is reasonably warm and the cycling is good -- rural areas and small towns such as Cacabelos.
By Villafranca we need coffee to warm up, but at this point are undaunted. Its not until Trabadelo, about 31 kms into this trip, that we're near frozen and have a decision to make. We're waffling over our umpteenth cup of coffee, watching pilgrims come in, one after another, to book a room. One such group included a German fellow who told us he had just called his meteorologist friend to get a weather update. Now this is one high-tech pilgrim!
With the information under our belt that tomorrow's weather launches an improving trend, we decide to go just a little further today and then wait for a change in the weather fortunes. Off we head. And wouldn't you know it? The downpour ceases, the sun comes out. We travel light-heartedly through the pretty town of Vega de Valcare (stay here next time), with flower beds and garden plots and a generally inviting atmosphere.
Since this is all too good to ignore, we head up the mega-hill. Within seconds, I'm panting. Within minutes we're reaching for the water bottle and the energy food. But looking down into the slowly receding valley, its green and lush, quite and beautiful. Why is it suddenly so lush? You guessed it -- it rains a lot. At least, based on this one-day sample that appears to be the case. We're drenched. We have miles to go uphill. The road surface is fine, but its still too steep to cycle. We push our bikes uphill for 1 1/2 hours. People at the top later tell us that they check our progress periodically and urge us on in spirit. By the time we finally, finally reach the top, the wind is whipping around us.
Brent calls this a "one-foot-after-the-other adventure". I can think of other catchy phrases. Fortunately, and somewhat unexpectedly, there is a very cool place to stay at the top, O Cebreiro, population 20. It seems to be managed by a very indifferent, if not outright rude, manager who is not sure if he can find a room for us. In scowling over his tattered looseleaf book and stopping to count his wad of bills which is big enough to choke a horse, he keeps us shivering and freezing for about 15 minutes. But who is going to leave on point of principle under these conditions? Not me!
In the end, he offers us a room if we agree to leave by 8:00. Why in the world does he care? But whatever, sure, sold! His equally gracious assistant walks us over to a glorious, huge, new stone building and opens it just for us -- although by day's end another couple occupy another guest room. Brent is one happy guy. He examines the wooden frame windows, the structure of the tall ceiling, the stonework, the marble work, the construction of the bay window and the inset cupboards. I hit the bath to thaw!
At dinner, our friendly host presiding and keeping everyone waiting 3/4 hour, we share a table with a Dutch/American couple currently living in Spain, who are starting the trail here. In fact, many people start here because, not only does it avoid the vertical climb, but the most spectacular part of the walk starts here.
This was another first for us -- a chance to talk in-depth to people who live here. Because we don't speak or read Spanish, we've no idea what's going on in the country because we can't watch the news or read newspapers. While history from a guidebook is great, we have many questions from our general observations. Why is there such a building boom in Spain? Is it related to Spain joining the EU? What's happening with Spain's relations with its trading partners? How much do people support the current president? Is the government good or corrupt? What are Spain's imminent prospects? We have a great time.
Once again, by the end of the day, we've forgotten all about some of the yucky bits in the middle.
October 2, 2003
O Cebreiro => Sarria
47 km today / 690 km to date
Rain, rain, go away. It is fantastic scenery, but the wind and rain are big distractions. The rain stops and starts over the course of the day, but mostly starts! Then, to add insult to injury, at the bottom of the 20 km hill, Brent realizes he has left his secret pouch with passport, credit cards, etc, up at the top. Call a cab, race back, thank goodness its there, return to the foot of the hill to carry on. At least the taxi was warm.
Under other (i.e. warmer) conditions, the cycling would be superb. We're now in the misty countryside of Galicia -- populated by Galicians, a Celtic people with their own language. Stone walls, quiet back roads, green meadows, rolling hills. It even looks a bit like Ireland. In Samos we pass an enormous and well preserved monastery - with the largest cloister in Spain - before settling into a nondescript room in Sarria to recover from our recent exertions. Tomorrow is another day!
October 3, 2003
Sarria to Portomarin
28 km today / 719 km to date
A late start and some bike maintenance in a local stream (clean brakes, wheels, brake pads) meant we weren't really rolling until about 2:00. We got lost once again on the road, but the cycling itself was great. Back lanes and tracks, grazing cows, patchwork meadows -- a gentle and pastoral beauty.
By the time we'd had a huge lunch and reached Portomarin it started to pour again, so we stopped early, splurged on a 3 Euro bottle of wine (compared to much of the Euro .6 -- $1 CDN -- selection) and settled in to fight with the currently unco-operative web page.
Coming into town today we crossed an enormously high bridge, required since the 1963 damming of the Rio Mino. Since there is little water in the river right now (although surely that will change after the downpour of the last three days), the evidence of the old stone houses and walls is sadly clear down below. We do amazing things to improve on Mother Nature.
I chatted briefly with a journalist who is writing a piece on why people walk the trail; what kind of spiritual experience they are having. He has been walking for 4 days, has covered 130 km, and is thinking of going back to his departure point and starting again because people are so preoccupied with the rain that they are having trouble thinking about spiritual aspects. So much for adversity breeding strength and spiritualism! One suspects such growth must be after the fact!
October 4, 2003
Portomarin to Arzua
54 km today / 774 km to date
The weather systems continue to pass through at a ferocious rate in what is standard pattern in this part of the neighbourhood. Sun 10 minutes, later rain, 5 minutes later light cloud and wind, 5 minutes more and its back to rain. Such are the weather systems coming in from the Atlantic and stirred up as they approach the mountains now behind us. But overall today it was poor rather than pleasant. We have come to understand why the small granary at each household is on stilts!
The landscape is much the same as the last couple of days, although we're back to red tile roofs after a few days of those marvelous slate roofs, and there now tend to be many small farm holdings with cows beginning to outnumber sheep as the predominance of flat rather than steep land changes the farm economics, all of which makes for the most scenic pastoral cycling to date.
We've also become attuned enough to the sounds of spoken Spanish that we notice the different accent of Galacia -- the most notable being "th" replacing the "s-sound". Gracias becomes grathea. Our Spanish is bad enough without adding a lisp!
Soldiered on through Palais de Rei and Melide to a clean but rather decrepit hotel outside of Arzua. There were nicer places in the town, but at least one of our twosome didn't plan to turn the pedals one more time!
October 5, 2003
Arzua to Santiago de Compostela (the goal!)
42 km today / 816 km to date
The day was clear and sunny and the scenery generally inviting as we passed through Alzada, Amenal and San Marcos in our approach to our final destination. Small villages dotted the landscape as we did the final traverse through meadows and fir, oak (complete with fall's falling acorns) and the ubiquitous eucalyptus groves. To be like real pilgrims we made a point of taking the exact track for the last 12 km or so, which stayed ruralish right up until the last 3 or 4 km.
At that point we came across the strangest holiday camp. Fifty one- storey concrete buildings; some for sleeping, some gathering rooms, a bunch of souvenir stands, grocery, etc. Parking for a zillion cars. All in regimented order. Given the beautiful countryside, this seems such an odd form of holidaying. I suppose what it has going for it is ease and no surprises. We joined about 300 people in their Sunday best eating lunch cafeteria-style!
For the last 15 km or so, we saw only a single pilgrim. This seemed very strange given that the closer we get to Santiago, the greater the number of folks who have joined the trail. I expect in the order of 300 daily complete the final leg this time of year.
Our solitary pilgrim explained that to many, Sunday mass is a special day. There is a pilgrims' mass each day at noon, which includes a recitation of the names of those who completed the trail (i.e. pilgrimage) the day previous, with associated blessings. For those who wanted this ritual to occur for them on a Sunday, they had made a push to get to Santiago Saturday night. For us, this meant the strange experience of completing the trail alone, having for the previous 700 km shared it with many.
I'm going to write myself a piece on the pilgrimage when I've given it a few days to sink in. Meanwhile, my impression of Santiago was a pleasant surprise. We had been warned that Santiago de Compostela is a tacky tourist town. Far from it. While there are indeed hoards of tourists, one too many buskers and no shortage of tacky souvenir shops, there are also beautiful buildings and architecture, pleasant plazas, trees and lots of sidewalk cafes. And, of course, the cathedral dominates the old city with an ornate entranceway, two-storey doors and general size-awe.
We got our final passport stamp and collected our certificate of completion, offered to those who walk at least 100 km or cycle a minimum of 300 km (or cover the distance by horseback!). In so doing, we met a number of people who were spending a day learning about the trail before they headed out to give it a go. They were full of enthusiasm and congratulations to us. We tried to be excited for their sake -- since we actually feel like we're still in the middle of a cycling trip.
Off to find dinner and buy us some of those tacky souvenirs!
October 6, 2003
Santiago de Compostela to Tui, Spain
66 km today / 882 km to date
We had planned to spend a second day exploring Santiago but, pretty as the city is, with the throngs of people crowding the square and a tour bus pulling in on average every 5 minutes, it seemed more fun to get back out into the country. We first wanted to see the inside of the cathedral (I mistakenly thought we'd see the mortal remains of St. James) but it didn't open to the public until 10:00. We found a side entrance which was open, slipped in and found a service underway. Not being Catholic, I didn't follow what was going on. But I can say that the enormous organ pumped out phenomenal sound, the priest or whoever was doing the singing had a wonderful amplified tenor voice, and the lights on all the gold gilt meant that we early saw the cathedral at its most impressive (although we missed the noted swinging of the incense from the great hopes hanging from aloft).
Now that we're almost at the Atlantic coast of Spain, its time to head south to Portugal. The day was dry and sunny, but cool, so we made good tracks, but knew we wouldn't reach the border until after dark. So we put ourselves and our bikes on a bus at Pontevedra and took the easy way to the last town in Spain (although by the time we navigated the Pontevedra, located the bus station, figured out the many bus lines and waited 2 hours for the bus, we could practically have ridden).
As it was, we reached the border town of Tuy (as it is called by the Galacians - and, after all, its their town) too late to cross into Portugal (that is, too dark to find our way) so we checked into a weird, weird hotel (our room was on two floors, had enough space for about 20 people, 2 bathrooms, kitchen, loft bedroom, blond wood, boarded-over skylights, chrome and glass, enclosed 3' x 3' balcony which could sit no one). We went out to explore the town and found no one about. Very strange in Spain at 9:30, where most places are just getting started.
The cathedral looks like a fortress and, like many cathedrals, in undergoing major renovation. On top of the hill, it is imposing nonetheless, and the winding labyrinth of streets around it were fun to roam around in, but dinner in a brightly-lit cafeteria-look-alike left something to be desired for our final meal in a country where we have become spoiled with fine wood and cheap wine -- and lots of both!
October 7, 2003
Busing in from Tuy, Spain to Leiria, Portugal
15 km today / 897 km to date
The border crossing from Tuy, Spain to Valenca, Portugal was enough to give our PACE folks serious envy. We really couldn't find a border crossing. We cycled the small bridge linking the two countries and came across a couple of fairly small government buildings which must have been important when people cared about such things. Now they house an art exhibit (of Picasso-like artistry) and a couple of government buildings unrelated to customs or immigration occupied by people who were not the least interested in us -- or anyone else who crossed the border. We wandered around for a bit, flapping our passports and Spanish exit cards, provided commentary to no one in hearing range on the art exhibit and, when no one still cared, got on our bikes and rode away. This EU thing really works!
At this point we realized all our Euros would be suitable currency in Portugal, so EMU garners another thankful pair of travelers.
Even though the border and currency are seamless, the bus lines are not, which is why we chose to bus to the border, cross on our own pedal power, and pick up a Portugal bus in the Portuguese border town of Valenca.
We're getting better at buses, but weren't looking forward to this ordeal in Portuguese of which, at this point, we have a vocabulary of only two words (yes and thank you). An English-speaking station- master cum janitor was a godsend.
The bus took the milkrun along the coast to Porto, then headed inland toward Leiria; although longer, this worked well because we got an early flavour of Portugal.
The coast is a popular holiday spot for the Portuguese and one can see why -- green landscape, fishing villages, long sandy beaches, crashing surf, river estuaries and sand dunes.
Porto (or Oporto) is a busy, industrial port city and the port is big - it wouldn't rival Singapore, but may be comparable to Vancouver.
Inland on the autobahn we pass through grape-growing country, eucalyptus and pine plantations. A lot of the points-of-interest signs here are for monuments and castles, more than cathedrals. We're off the beaten pilgrim track!
When the bus drops us at a service centre on the autobahn it takes us a while to realize there is nowhere we can go -- except onto the autobahn which of course is not allowed. But short of riding cross- country, we're hooped. Our rescuer is a fellow in a service vehicle who is able to open a locked service gate -- were it not for him we'd probably have had to get back on the next bus.
Dinner in Leiria was quite an event. As ever, execution didn't match plan. We headed for a Caribbean restaurant where we'd earlier been tempted by the aroma of cooking Cajun fish, and got sidetracked by the first restaurant we came to. Brent had an animated conversation with the owner cum chef, neither understanding a word the other said, but no less friendly or energetic for all that. Basically, you go inside and look at their cuts of uncooked meat and fish, select one and then go chat with the owner/chef while he cooks it on a BBQ on the sidewalk out front and his wife makes up suitable side dishes. All done with a smile and charm.
We were assisted in the more complicated ancillary questions by a friend of the owner who happened to be dining there with his family. He spoke a fair amount of English so helped translate. Next thing you know we were sampling their wine and Brent even snagged a piece of sausage -- straight off the gent's plate! By the end of the evening, Renato and Lena had joined us at our table and we'd covered religion, travel, plastics (his profession) and decided to meet up again tomorrow evening -- they'll drive down to join us. What an amazing spontenaity!
October 8, 2003
Leiria to Caldas da Raina, Portugal
80 km today / 977 km to date
Renato and Lena has helped us pick a plan that would maximize our time in Portugal. The first day we did a wide loop away from our final destination to see some of the coastal area.
We passed first through Marinda Grande, a town of glass-blowing repute. We visited the small museum of glass with some spectacular (and pricey -- up to $2,200 CDN) pieces, including the Guiness Book of Records certified world's largest port glass -- about 5 feet tall. You haven't lived! We had also watched some glass blowers at a local factory -- noses pressed against the factory window. Those craftsmen make a penguin in about three minutes and a turtle in about one. Another illusion shattered. It sounds so artistic and must be assembly-line-style mind-numbing.
Approaching the coast, the traffic (previously noisy, frequent, diesel-belching transport trucks) eased to nothing and the terrain turned to short pine forest in sand. A big path made the final approach to Sao Pedro de Moel just about perfect.
This small seaside resort demonstrates both new wealth and the potential for Portugal's future. The homes are modern and stylish, they are also mostly closed up this time of year since the summer season is over. We are lucky to be having unseasonably warm weather at 25 degrees. There is no commercial activity here -- just a few restaurants, a lighthouse complete with thundering surf and fishermen perched on the rocks, and long, sandy, empty beaches as far as the eye can see to the north and south. This is La Jolla, California at about 3% of the price -- a place here costs Euro 35,000, about $50,000 CDN. Looks like a fabulous place to both stay and invest. Too bad we spent all our money on an eight-month holiday!
The next town we came to -- Nazere -- was completely difference in style. Tourists, loud music, busy esplanade, cars cruising, tacky souvenirs, hawkers. But a gorgeous, long, sandy, sheltered beach with only a handful of people on it. A different kind of crowd.
The long stands on the beach of drying fish and women in babushka- like scarves monitoring them seemed a charming throwback to a different time. But holy smokes, can they bargain! In some cases it was genial -- in others downright ferocious. We scooted.
We got lost, as always, so don't really know where we went. What we do know is that there were lots of hills and paving all over the place -- yet another sign of new growth in Portugal -- to say nothing of the communities springing up overnight all along the coastline. More wealthy enclaves.
At the other end of the spectrum are the truckers' stops that we often end up going to for lunch. Brent has a theory -- too often proven true. Truckers travel the same territory all the time, so they know where the good food, good portions, good prices are, the theory goes. Therefore, when traveling a busy road, look for a lot of trucks parked at a roadside diner and, voila, the best food around. Of course, such places are rarely located at cosy little cafes with outdoor patios and sea views. But then, when the food is served within 45 seconds of sitting down and its a race to see how quickly they can clear you out, who has time to look around anyway? Lunch is always served with a bottle of water and another of wine built into the price. We are relieved that all the truckers drink the wine sparingly and always leave some in the bottle when they depart.
Eventually we reach Calda da Raina and as we circle the city streets I remark to Brent that we must have missed the Tourismo office, which is lately where we having been going to get hotel information. "Its just around the corner", says an Aussie voice in the car beside us. Saved again.
Renato had been to Spain and Rena to Lisboa, as its called here -- Europeans do get around -- but we still managed to get together for a bit this evening -- starting at 10:00! We're still getting used to Spanish/Portuguese hours. We had a good time chatting, learning more about Portugal (average salary is Euro 500 weekly, apartment costs Euro 10,000 - 12,000), its plant life (eucalyptus introduced 70 years ago, plant which has been baffling us is couva which is fed to animals or used in soups), and much more; we are lucky to have met them.
October 9, 2003
Caldas Da Raina to Vila Franca de Xira (just outside Lisbon)
62 km today / 1039 km to date
Having spent most of yesterday along the coast, today we headed inland and up -- through the hills bordering Serra de Montejunte. This time we were in cattle land, olive tree land and grapevine land. Again, no traffic for most of the day and, since we had not much distance to cover, taking the hills at a slow pace was no problem.
We rolled into Vila Franca de Xira with lots of time to meander the shops (first time we've seen the lace that we've been watching for), people-watch over a beer in the main plaza (more ethnic diversity that we've seen to date), chow down an 8:30 dinner (earlier than most other diners; Dean Martin and John Denver in the background competing with the local news on TV) and do a final laundry (our hotel room a spider's nest of clothes line), before an early night.
October 10, 2003
Vila Franca de Xira to Lisbon, Portugal and on to Johannesburg,
South Africa
28 km today / 1067 km to date
It is possible to cycle right into Lisbon because an autobahn runs directly beside the national highway road, so there's surprisingly little traffic. Once again we survive cycling entry in a 2 million person metropolis!
We were hot, though, so reinstate our new tradition -- get rid of as many coins as possible through drikning beer. Since we had a long wait and our 8:30 departure was delayed, we did pretty well.
Trip Logistics Summary
Spain and Portugal have both been places well worth visiting and there is much more to entice us back. The Camino de Santiago trail took us from the mountains at the French border, across the Castilina steppe and wheat fields of Leon, into the hilly green area of Galacia. We went from there to the river and estuary areas of the Portugal Atlantic Coast and into the Portuguese hills. These are all very different areas, one from the other, and still there is much more to these countries. The South, Costa de Sol and Mediterranean areas are very different again. We will come back.
Urban areas may well be expensive -- since we spent no time in them, we have had no exposure. But the small towns and cities are relatively inexpensive. We typically spent about Euro 45 (about $65 CDN) for a two-star hotel (which means small hotel, no amenities, but decent-sized room with a bathroom and often including a continental breakfast of coffee, bread and sometimes OJ.) Lunch of bread, water, wine (which we never took, but it was always available), a starter and a main course, dessert and coffee (this is the standard menu del dia or menu of the day) was around Euro 7.5 - 9 (approx $10.50 - $13.50 CDN). All told we estimate we spent Euro 2400 for the 24 days ($140/day). Of curse, we're not shoppers or late-night activity folks, and we had virtually no transportation expenditures, but neither did we scrimp.
To add to the appeal, people were friendly and hospitable. Many times as we stood peering at a map or even just looking lost people would come up and ask if they could help us, language barriers notwithstanding. And we were never rebuffed when we approached someone. Servers are cheerful, hotel staff deal happily with the storage problem of bikes.
Because we were primarily following a pilgrimage route, we were exposed (over-exposed) to cathedrals and churches. But there is much more to be offered in other routes. Museums, castles, arts, ruins and a fascinating history.
As for cycling, this is great territory, especially Spain. There are many quiet routes with little traffic and where you must take a busy road the shoulders are wide, often 3 - 6 feet. While there are large numbers of transport trucks on the busier roads, they are careful and courteous drivers. We saw only a handful of RVs and there are mercifully few SUVs. Diesel fumes is the biggest downer -- environmental regs/enforcement haven't caught up, especially in Portugal.
While the Camino de Santiago route is not for the faint of heart, it is only moderately strenuous if you stick to the road and/or the flat, even sections of the trail. Two weeks is about right; a shorter time would be do-able, but not much fun at our fitness level and with our look-around interests. Alternatively there are many other cycle routes and tours in both countries.
We packed reasonably well for this trip (aside from far too many books, as usual); four sets of socks and 1 or 2 of most other things - - pants, shorts, shirts. We look a lot like a Mountain Equipment Co- op advertisement - from our panniers and odometers to our cycling pants, shirts and rain jackets. Surprisingly they haven't yet come after us for a modeling contract!
This is a good time of year to visit -- perhaps a little earlier would be better. July and August are both very busy tourist times and it would be too hot for comfort for us. May, June and September seem to be the best picks.
As far as birding is concerned, this is not the best time. Brent saw only 50ish species, because its late in the year and most have migrated south. On the other hand, he didn't do any serious bird walks, so there may be more than he spotted.
We can now find stuff in our panniers. In cycling, every inch counts and none is wasted, so there is a place for everything. For the first few days, locating the Lypsol meant opening every zippered compartment and sometimes dumping all the contents of a pannier onto the ground. Now we home in like real retrievers. I guess we're ready to move on.
October 11, 2003
Arrival in Johannesburg and the safari adventure begins
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On to the South Africa pages.