It was at the fork in the road a few miles outside of Pontevedra when it happened; when our journey along the Camino Portuguese took a diversion that would change everything.
This was day four of me and my friend Cerys’ 10 night adventure, walking Inntravel’s
Old Way to Santiago de Compostela. I’d walked the Camino Frances – the most popular of all the many paths that make up the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage – many years before, while dealing with some past trauma (which I wrote about in my book,
Wayfarer). But this time was different. Not only because I was in a much better headspace and travelling with a friend but, also, because we were taking a less trodden pathway to the cathedral and – because I was putting my navigational trust in a friend who – by her own admission – had such a bad sense of direction she would forthrightly walk in the opposite direction even when signs advised the route was to the contrary.
Starting the pilgrimage…
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” asked Cerys, when we had arrived in Tui on the Spanish/Portuguese border, checked into the beautiful Parador de Tui, and I presented her with our walk instructions for the trip ahead. To take her mind off the impending challenge, we wandered into town, where a festival was underway featuring locals wearing large papier mâché heads and dancing to Galician bag pipe music. We feasted on tapas and watched the locals of all ages gather by the town hall while a procession began. Around us everyone was speaking Spanish. Already this was a far cry from the crowds of tourists who congregate in Sarria on the last 100km of the more popular Camino Frances.
We had a full rest day before we set out, and used it to test Cerys’ navigation and road test the Inntravel instructions. She made a wrong turn as soon as we left the hotel – but quickly realising the proceeding pointers didn’t match, she corrected it. And, despite a couple more wrong turns – got us safely over the bridge that spans the Miño River, depositing us safely into Portugal.
“You see?” I said encouragingly as we explored the cobbled streets of the 13th century star-shaped fortress that encircled the town and sat down to sample the local caldo verde soup served with broa de milho (cornbread). “You managed to walk us into a whole other country!” With spirits lifted we set out the next morning, following the yellow scallop shells and Cerys’ instructions, to make our way through the many farming communities enroute to our rural destination of Saramagoso and the Casa Rural As Chivas.
Despite a few wobbles on the way, I was proud to note Cerys’ sense of direction and – more than that – her confidence was slowly improving. We began to see a few more ‘peregrinos’ (pilgrims) in the mediaeval town of Arcade, which helped alleviate confusion at a street junction, and by the time we reached the gorgeously preserved 12th century town of Pontevedra, more groups of pilgrims were gathering
Taking the quiet road
Resigned to being accompanied by more crowds now, and with limited expectations, the next day, a few miles out of town, we left the main route at that fork in the road, and instead took the 10-year-old Variante Espiritual – a fairly recent alternative option to the 1,000-year-old Camino trail.
If there’s one thing the Galicians do well it’s marketing – just look at the history and successes of the Camino in general. But this ‘Spiritual Variant’, which sees walkers take an alternative route between Pontevedra and Padron (home of the tasty salted peppers – as well as the stone that the boat carrying St James’ body is said to have moored to), is something of a masterstroke in moving peregrinos to different areas of the region to share the tourism footprint. Over the three days we followed it, it changed our whole perspective on the region. Not only did we escape the throngs on the main path, but there were highlights pointed out to us in Cerys’ navigational notes that made it feel as though we’d stumbled upon a secret Camino that other people miss.
We got to meet local school children at the gates of Isidora Riestra Primary who stamped our pilgrim passports and chatted to us to help improve their English; we ate lunch at the coastal village of Combarro with its enticing narrow streets, stone hórreos (grain stores), fishermen's cottages endless riverside seafood restaurants. When we were met outside San Amaro monastery, to be magically whisked away to the beautiful Quinta de San Amaro in Meaño for a rest day, I think we both realised how special this route was. To celebrate Cerys successfully guiding us this far, we tasted Albariño wine at a small co-operative’s warehouse and sat by the pool looking out at the vineyards of the verdant Rías Bajas region, surrounded only by Spanish locals who’d come here for a break from the cities.
Fairytale landscapes
Well rested, and Cerys’ navigational prowess sharpened, we rejoined the Camino, weaving along the ‘Trail of Stone and Water’ beside crumbling, moss-covered mills – it was a scene straight out of a fairytale. Arriving at Villanova de Arousa – a small seaside town where Galicians all seemed to holiday, the man who would skipper us on the 26km boat ride to Pontecesures following the only maritime Via Crucis in the world (a series of 17 stone crosses that line the Río Ulla, seemingly floating on the surface at high tide, marking the route it’s said the remains of St James followed), said that pilgrims were ‘like fresh air – breathing new life into the area’. That made us smile.
Our final walk from Padron to Santiago seemed to fly by, with Cerys no longer even looking to me for verification we were on the right path. We were waiting for our Monte de Gozo (Hill of Joy) moment – that part of the walk when you finally see the spires of the cathedral ahead. Once we spotted them Cerys was mentally already there. I laughed as she said: “I can see it now - I've got my feet up drinking Albariño in a cunca, talking wildly about how I navigated here without the use of any kind of map or arrow, just by sheer willpower and maybe the odd star.”
The only challenge left was tearing ourselves away from the many tapas bars that line the streets on the way to the Portico Gloria and the end of our journey. With tears in our eyes, and the sound of Galician bagpipes in our ears once more, we headed to get our compostela. Afterwards we arrived in the Parador to a view that looked out onto the Praza do Obradoiro and a celebratory bottle of bubbles and we toasted ourselves and all the other pilgrims who’d made it. I am still not religious, but I said a little prayer of thanks to Inntravel for giving my friend the tools to lead us on this incredible and unforgettable adventure.