A sunny start to the day. The view looks great this morning and the day ahead does not seem so bad. My legs don´t feel so bad and the feet seem OK too. A good strong black coffee and a chocolate croissant provide the needed boost for setting off, it´s about 8.30 am, uncertain of how far I´ll get today.
Soon after leaving Portomarin we are into a sparse forest and about an hour into the journey the rain starts falling once again. By now I am familiar with the routine: head down cape wrapped around me and just move forward. There´s no need to avoid puddles because within minutes everything uncovered is wet. Also little point changing sox too often since they will be soaked soon enough and you´ll be left without a dry pair when you reach you destination.
OK, walking, interesting scenery, everything green, endless green, but into the third day of rain and green you start to wish for a bit of red soil, a bit of sun, something not quite so green since it reminds you of the rain needed to keep it green.
The small villages go past and now that we are out of Lugo they even have names. The numbers on the milestones get smaller and an occasional stop at a bar for a hot cup of restorative tea or infusion perks up the spirit and restores the body for another spurt of trekking along the Way.
Writing this almost a week later I can think of nothing in particular that stands out. The occasional breaks in the clouds give the pilgrim a chance to have a little break, eat a snack or just rest and admire the scenery. All this sort of reminds me of Ireland or parts of England, even down to the low stone walls. All rather bucolic and peaceful and reminiscent of summers in the country.
I keep walking and pass through some interesting little hamlets with lovely stone churches. One of the best (in my unbiased opinion) is San Xulián and any saint with a name like mine must have been a great guy. As you can see from the photos, it is a lovely little spot and the church unpretentious but effective.
Eventually, and fortunately with clearing skies, I get to Mélide. Once again, I had not planned to get that far but the hostels were closed so there was nothing to be done but carry on, fortunately on rather level ground.
It is just as well I made it to the big town. The hostel itself was nothing to write home about. Still, the bed was comfortable (3 €, usual for Public hostels) but the shower not very hot. Feeling sore and tired I wandered into town to find a pharmacy and to look for dinner. The chemist advised against my selection because of possible stomach trouble (no one committed themselves to a negative diagnosis) and sold me a muscle relaxant instead, commenting that the combination would see me sound asleep and refreshed the next morning.
Now for dinner! While making my way through the town to the hostel noted various "Pulperias" and started to wonder if thais was a specialty of the town. Now Pulpo is Octopus and one of those specialist places stood out because of the copper vats near the entrance. The whole octopus in boiled in this stock and then cut up to order. As with anything simple, there is an art to doing it well and that particular place took my fancy so I headed back there.
It turned out to be a favourite, judging by the number of pilgrims already there. I ordered a salad, some local white and a serving of pulpo. Now for a word about the wine. You can buy bottled wine or you can get a jug from the barrel. This is unfiltered and of pretty good quality, considering. In Galicia it is served in ceramic "cups" or rather small bowls like the ones you see in Asian restaurants. Very interesting and rustic. I managed to get through most of the jug and cleaned up the substantial serving of pulpo as well. Chatting with other pilgrims was also a pleasure and added another level to the meal.
So, refreshed, restored and well fed I wandered, hobbled, back to the hostel for a very sound and uninterrupted sleep.
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