Thursday 31st March

32.5 km (94.4 km)

Packing up in the dark

The Albergue last night was remarkably busy given that we hadn’t seen any pilgrims really on the route. Everyone was asleep by 8:30 and I was quite surprised that Robyn and I were first up at 6:15. We had been in our beds for nearly 10 hours and no one was moving. This meant crawling around in the dark trying to unzip packing pods, and pack up sleeping bags in silence so as not to wake the other 10 sleeping pilgrims whilst at the same time ensuring nothing was left behind. We stopped for breakfast before joining the route and were greeted by strange looks from the now awake pilgrims en route who had probably packed up in the light of day as one.

Dusty tracks and big skies

This was our first big day so we were happy to be on the road by 7:30 am. The day was more like days on the Camino I’m accustomed to. The dusty grit path laid out in front of us twisted into the distance with flapping poncho-clad pilgrims dotting the landscape. The countryside was pleasant and passing time with the odd pilgrim here and there saw the first 13k go in quickly. Robyn decided to take a taxi that I managed to book with a mixture of Duolingo Spanish and google translate Portuguese. I was quite proud of booking a taxi for my pal but suspect simply saying taxi and pointing at Robyn would have had the same result.

After bidding farewell to Robyn I set off to complete the remaining 20 km to Santarém. The route meandered through little sleepy villages, many with cafés boarded up. I’m not sure if this is down to covid or just the younger generations not happy with such a rural way of life, it was quite sad.

Through the region’s agricultural heartland

The villages petered out as we walked through fields of crops with manicured farms that from a distance looked like little villages; whitewashed with red-tiled roofs. It was all very lovely as was I walking along with the fields of vines, barley etc. The feeling of calm started to return today :).

Barking dogs

I knew I had a 1.6 km climb at the end of today. I was readying myself for this, repeating mantras of ‘my feet are not sore’, ‘my feet are not sore’ and so was not expecting to see, just in front of said sore feet, a horrible dirty growling dog. Now as anyone who knows me will tell you I am terrified of dogs but my dog-loving friends have tried to help with this phobia by saying as long as tails are wagging they are just saying hello. Of course, the tail wasn’t wagging and he was quickly joined by some fellow mangy dogs who also had forgotten to wag their tails. I was trying to keep my head when one ran at me and uncharacteristically I turned around and yelled at the pack, they all ran away – a new life skill learnt I reckon! I continued along ready to snarl at any dangerous beasts but they had obviously heard through the grapevine/bark vine to steer clear of the mad woman in the large blue poncho. I marched up the 1.6 km hill, arriving exhausted at the hostel – pretty scary looking from the outside but rather fabulous inside.