Camino: Sarria to Portomarin

We have a week to go! I need to get more stamps in my pilgrim passport – I’ve been saving it for the good ones with rich designs from churches and inns, but I need to start getting coffee bars and other stops along the way each day.

So I began by getting a stamp in the little chapel at the top of the stairs in Sarria.  We loaded up the bus this morning with all our baggage and set off about 9:00 to the town, where Celso let us off in the same parking lot exactly where we finished yesterday.  We are nothing but honest about this walking.  Last night Alex would not let me get a stamp in the monastery in Samos because we had not actually walked that route to Sarria during the day.

Our route out of Sarria was up some steps – literally – and through some streets of the old town.  There were wooden signs on bars and other establishments to make the path of the pilgrim – clearly a big business in this part of Spain.  Gradually and imperceptibly the terrain became more rural and open, and soon we were walking down a steep hill, over a stone bridge, and across farm fields along the railroad tracks.  I hoped for a train, but one came only after we were some distance away. At about that point, both Maria and Pat climbed up an old tree. Those antics will be in Maria’s movie. 
 

Pat and Leslie and I stopped in a nice looking albergue for a coffee and a stamp, while Maria continued on.  When we got to the Iglesia de Santiago church at Barbadelo, we stopped again for a stamp and a look at the beautiful old altar which appears to be early Renaissance in style.

As we left, we passed the lady who is walking the camino, pulling a small suitcase on roller wheels.  We can’t quite imagine how she does this when she comes to the rocky and hilly parts, or where the trail is not suited to wheels of any kind? I for one walked onward fast to get away from the noise her suitcase makes on the asphalt road.  There’s a pretty good climb in here and it is beginning to get warm. 

I am noticing that in this part of the Camino, we have stone markers that look as though they date from long before the modern ones.  These are flat pieces of grey granite, standing on end along the Camino, as though to channel our energies toward Santiago de Campostela. Some have yellow arrows painted on them and others seem to have some long faded markings or carving.

There is a pool and a non-functioning fountain at Peruscallo. It features a Miro-like abstract figure drawing in blue and red that was apparently the symbol for the Tour de España one year when the bicycle race came through here. The pool has scum on the surface and you sure would not want to drink any of that water.  The fountain no longer flows. 

Hórreo

I saw my first of many “hórreos” – the stone and brick, or better and more authentic, stone and wood, granaries that are set up several feet off the ground, with a stone ledge at the bottom to keep the mice away from the cereal grains.  The sides are ventilated, so the wind can help dry the grain.  The word hórreo comes from the Latin word for “to blow through,” according to Alex.  Some are of hallow red brick, but others are of good old fashioned wood and stone.  They look a little like a large mausoleum standing up on pillars in a farmyard. I took pictures of many hórreos today.

100 kilometers to go!

We also passed the “100 kilometers to Santiago” trail marker today just before lunch.  Actually, I was walking up with Leslie and we saw a most uninspired marker that said 100, but it was a fake, not the real thing.  The real one was a little further along the path, decorated with various tributes left by perrigrinos who had already passed by.  Pictures were taken, let it be said.

Before too long, our luncheon stop, Ferreiros, appeared. There was a café just across the street, but we seemed permitted to use their picnic area on the other side of the road. 

This was just after I greeted an old Gallego with “Buenos tardes,” only to have him reply that “Well, it’s not that late so probably ‘Buenos dias’ is still more correct.”  I agreed with him, and asked to take his picture.  It later turned out he was in such a good humor because Karen had given him a playful kiss just a few minutes before. 

Lunch was a make your own sandwich event, featuring however a gazpacho soup made and sold in Spain by McDonalds.  It seemed really good at the time, although thinking it over, it probably is not as rich and thick as some gazpachos should be.  But not bad at all. 

Cate showed off her expertise in standing on her head (who knew she had such talents?), getting only a small knee scrape in the process of performing for the many cameras. I got another stamp in the café.  Shucks, at this point, I’d take one in a gas station if the opportunity presented itself.

Anyway, lunch was fine and it seemed time to set off and do the last ten kilometers.  It promised to be hot and sunny.  I walked with Joe and Mary Ellen for a while.  We took some photographs of the picturesque small chapel and mausoleums as we departed Ferreiros.  There was a little stone bench under a tree that gave a lovely view of the chapel and the village on the hillside behind it in the afternoon sun.

The rest of the walk was pretty much all downhill, but sunny and hot under clear blue skies.  (Hard to believe it’s going to rain tomorrow?) I put the Fresco neckerchief under my hat in such a way that it protected my neck and cheeks from the sun.  More hórreos were photographed, including a little self photography. There was a breeze, and it was not too hot, but one tires of doing the same motion over and over.

Trail: hot and dusty

The Miño

Eventually the descent brought me to the first vineyard in a couple of days, and the outskirts of Portomarin.  The pilgrim path crosses a large bridge over the river Miño, which seemed to have very little water in it.  I understood that the Franco government decided to build a dam and flood the city, so many buildings, including the large stone church, were rescued stone by stone.  Both  the Romanesque church of San Pedro and the monumental church fortress of San Nicolás, that now sits in the main square,were saved from the waters this way.  This history explains why today’s Portomarin looks so new and sterile for a Spanish city. The medieval bridge stayed underwater and all that remains is the base and one of its arches at the entrance to the new bridge.  When I crossed, the water level seemed very low and it was hard to imagine this river causing any damage.

There was a long stair-step approach to the city after the bridge, and I had to ask directions to the main square and the Church of San Nicolas.  After taking a couple of pictures, I settled into a chair on a deck overlooking the plaza and ordered a beer.  My GPS says we walked 13.8 miles –but it had stopped for lack of battery power. A calculation of the map distance would be 14.7 miles (23.5 kilometers).  I thought others of our group would arrive before long, but they never did.  I finished and paid for the caña, and went in search of the Pousada Portomarin, a former parador.

Church of San Nicolas.

I checked in and got showered before Carl arrived, and he took a nap while I played with wifi in the lobby.  I used my Skype account to call Marcia on the phone in Bilbao.  Eventually I decided to get up and move around, mainly to stretch and not allow muscles to seize up after all that walking today.  (I ate a banana this morning specifically to counter cramps.) 

About 7:30 p.m. some ten of us met and wandered into town in search of dinner.  Alex had recommended a little place, Café Perez, on the square by the Guardia Civil office.  It more than  suited our needs tonight.  I had lentil soup and pulpo gallego, as well as Torta de Santiago and coffee.  Celso, our driver, ate in the same place and kindly bought us a round of post-coffee liqueurs like "aguardiente de orujo," a firey pomace brandy.

Getting a stamp in the church

Back to the hotel this evening where it’s a little close in the room.  We have a nice sized room with a big bathroom, but there is no air conditioning and no way to cause a breeze through the room.