I woke up to rain but that was expected to decrease as the morning went on. It did -enough to give me some confidence about the day, but it was never far away. The day consisted of light shower after light shower but was fun nonetheless.
Leaving Pontevedra entailed retracing yesterday’s paths through the city. It’s a nice place but today again, it’s overcast and drizzling. I was quickly out past the train station and into some less than celubrious suburbs. The route today was quite scenic which here means that it went up a lot of steep roads and through villages. My route shared most of the Camino Portuguese and every few kms, there were pilgrims trudging through the rain. I’m not sure who felt more sorry for whom.
Some of the tiny lanes through villages were some of the steepest I’ve ridden on.
I stopped for morning coffee in one of these villages at the same time as two pilgrims – a Dutch lady and a Costa Rican guy. As usual, they were great people and interesting to talk to. When they left, they took quite a few photos of my bike. I though I was the celebrity in this relationship and not ‘This Moment’.
The day went downhill after that. I stopped in a nice town, got some shelter from the rain for a while, but it only eased a little rather than stopped. Next were some very steep hills to climb. I was happily going up one of 12% when it turned right and the incline seemed to double. I was quickly off and walking as the trail wound its way to the top.
One young pilgrim came the other way walking slowly and gingerly. We said hi, and after 50m, I looked back and she was walking slowly backwards down the steep slope. She must have been in major pain. It’s pain I understand well from my marathoning days. She has a long way to go to get to Santiago.
I’d been avoiding any dirt roads because of all of the rain recently. I just didn’t feel like going through mud for kilometres. However, there was one I couldn’t avoid – there was no alternate route, and initially it was pretty good and a bit of fun. It was gradually descending and puddles and thick mud became more frequent until I came to a creek that I couldn’t ride across. It wasn’t a major issue, as the water was only a bit above my knees but pretty cold.
When I got to the other side, I read an information board and realised that I’d crossed a very very old stone bridge that was under water.
The shoes and socks went back onto my very clean but cold feet, the dirt road finished soon after, and I started going through the suburban area of Tui. It was starting to get a little dark as I crossed the Minho river into Portugal. I was just outside the walls of Valença.
There was an easy but long way to get to the hostel, but I chose to wheel my bike straight up the stairs and take the short cut. Everything was going well until I encountered the crowds strolling through the old city. Gee it was busy, and gee these people were slow. Eventually I made it and the Bulwark Hostel is fantastic.
