I left Sarria in the dark of early morning again.  The Germans with whom we shared early breakfast in Tricastela where just outside the hotel as well, and they laughed when they saw me heading out.  I trudged up the same hill Lee and I had walked the previous day.  Like clockwork, other pilgrims began coming out of the side streets.  Soon we were a swarm.  There was café open at that hour, and I took advantage by having coffee and breakfast cake before leaving the town.

As usual, the first part of the day involved a climb.  After it, I began to see the swell in pilgrim numbers.  Sarria is the favorite Camino starting point for the more-than-half of pilgrims who walk enough (100 km) to make them eligible for a Compostela certificate.  There were all sorts, young, old, families, groups of young people, and mainly European although that’s true of the entire Camino.  They were louder, more festive if you will.  They crowded the cafes and for the first time, it became difficult to get a seat.   I don’t mean to complain about this – I am glad to see anyone walk any part of the Camino – but it changed the “vibe” and I had to adjust to it.

I saw my Chicago family again, and the ever-presence of young Koreans, whom I seem throughout this trip and previous ones.  They are invariably respectful and polite, wishing you at every encounter a “Buen Camino,” even if it’s the 15^th time you’ve seen them.  I liked the Koreans a lot.

For the days leading up to Sarria, I felt my body telling me that it would like to have a rest day.  I couldn’t accommodate it, of course.  I had lodging and, more importantly, airline reservations that would be difficult to change without a significant financial penalty.  As if in protest, I started to feel a soreness in my left ankle.  I thought it might be a blister forming as a result of the rubbing of my hiking shoe and so I put some padding in there to cushion the impact.  As that didn’t help, I resigned myself to stopping and taking off my shoes to see what was the issue.

It turned out to be a sore tendon, not a blister at all. I googled “sore tendons” and realized that it was the consequence of so many downhills I walked bracing my feet against the steepness of the descent.  There was nothing to do but rest it and take ibuprofen, and I couldn’t much do the former.  I took the ibuprofen and vowed to walk more slowly.  Somehow, by the end of that day, and for all the days to follow, the pain went completely away.

The walk was pleasant enough.  The ascents and descents were manageable and the underlying trail was dirt paths, many times through woodland, which provided shelter against the sun.  But it was Galicia, a region of dairy farm communities, and passing through them, one had to dodge stepping into cow manure.

I was still weaving and dodging with the youth group.  They would pass me, then stop at a café where I would pass them, only to be passed again when they finished at the café.  I felt like the tortoise moving along with the youth-group hare..

I did miss the pre-Sarria quiet.  Eventually, I created my own escape by putting on earphones and listening to my tapes.

The trek today involved a lot of elevation and I didn’t arrive at Portomarin until after 7.5 hours. The town was a pleasant surprise.  We passed over the big river Minho to get to the town and saw kids in paddle boats enjoying themselves.  It felt like a beach town and, in truth, it was.  A modern town with historic roots.

Paddleboats on the River Minho

Steps that take you up into the town of Portomarin

Swimming pool by the River Minho

Our hotel, while small, was modern and clean.  After I took a shower, Lee and I walked up to a restaurant, where after a small wait we were seated at a window table that overlooked the water and had a fabulous meal for just 15 euros each. Now I really felt I was in a resort town.

That night, we walked into town for ice cream and supplies at the supermercado. We stopped and talked to the Chicago family. It was Monday evening and we were both scheduled to get into Santiago on Friday.   I started to rethink our plan that night.   We would only get to stay one night in Santiago,  less time than was really needed.  I had four more days allotted to get there, but I felt I could cover the distance in three days if I pushed it.  Also, it was no longer required that I walk exactly to a particular point. Our lodging for the next couple of nights would not be on the Camino route anyway.  Lodging on this leg of the trail was at a premium because of the crowds.  We were booked into casa rurals, which were as much as 8-10 km away from the Camino trail.  Wherever I stopped,  I would still need a ride to our lodging.   The hotels accommodated that with shuttle buses, but I had Lee to help with that.

Lee and I agreed that I would push it the next few days, leave early, and walk until mid- to late-afternoon each day.  The goal was to get into Santiago a day early.