Well, today I actually start at Pedrafita, at the bottom of the mountain cause that's where the Madrid bus leaves me at 6 AM. It´s 4 KM to the top of the mountain and it's pitch dark but dry and cool. I start walking and it feels great. Not much sleep because I had to sit at just behind the driver, could not stretch my legs and had headlights in my eyes.
At the top of the hill it started to snow, typical, and a reminder of the lat time I was up this way. It eventually turned to normal day as the "sun" came up and it kept raining for the rest of the day. OK, it did stop occasionally but just enough to lull you into a false sense of security, remove your clothes and start singing. The it came down again unexpectedly and off you went again, cursing Galicia.
I had planned to take it easy on my first day so as to save my strength and last the 151 km to Santiago. I had a lighter pack , a lighter sleeping bag than last time and had packed more carefully. Still, it seemed heavy enough and there was a long way to go, up and down hill.
Not long after heading out of O´Cebreiro I took a wrong turn or, more accurately, did not notice the small arrow pointing to a slight but crucial change of direction up what looked like a goat track. I had walked about three kms before a local farmer stopped me and pointed out my mistake, Fortunately for me, he gave me a lift back up the hill. I felt a bit better when I saw several other people going the wrong way as well. It seemed that this was a frequent occurrence and that many people did, indeed, get lost. As it happened, this was to be a regular occurrence in Galicia where the interest in Pilgrims seems to be somewhat lacking. You´ll hear more about this as the days go on.
Ok, so there I was walking in the rain, not really seeing very much because it was not just a drizzle coming down but a regular, very regular, downpour. There was nothing to do but keep the head down and keep going. The scenery was lovely and you might just get an idea from the photos. Otherwise think of Ireland or even Scotland with the mist and the rain.
Finally, I got to the monastery at Samos. By then it had stopped raining and I waddled in tired and sore. This is one hell of a monastery! Massive! The Pilgrim's hostel was actually a room in the monastery, on the ground floor, fortunately, and supplied a bed and hot showers. It was run by an elderly Austrian lady who was very mothering and was concerned about my poor feet and the pain in the back of my knees. This was unexpected but then I had just walked nearly 40 kms up and down hills and mountains. Fortunately I had some of Mariluz's tortilla to keep me going.
After a shower and a little siesta I wandered around to find a pharmacy thinking that this is not a good way to stat a long trek and that there were another four days and about 120 kms to go. I was given some Voltaren (diclofenaco sodico, if you must know) and I also took some Ibuprofen for good measure. It did help but eventually played havoc with my guts and I stopped taking the tablets.
Later that evening we, the pilgrims, were treated to a tour of the monastery and at 7.20 pm we attended Vespers, hearing the monks sing beautifully. Together with my foot washing experience in Rabanal del Camino this added up to more religious experiences in a few weeks than I´d had in a long time. Dinner was taken across the road and I will not bother you with the details. Afterwards it was straight to bed and lights out at 10.30.
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