A whole day in the mountains of Galicia, with rolling green hills as far as the eye could see. The best thing of all, it was a very gentle ascent.
The alarm didn’t have a chance, I was up at 5.50am. I decided to get ready and head off. A complete different experience to last nights albergue. I was out the door just before 7.
Once out of the town it was pitch black requiring the head torch. I was passing a small holding and heard a rustle to my left. In the torchlight I saw two eyes glowing and a muzzle. Could this be the Iberian wolf? No, it barked, it was just a farm dog.
By the time the daylight arrived I had gone beyond yesterday’s flame grilled earth and amongst the mountains. The route followed a road high above the huge reservoir ‘Portas’.
The only issue was, it was tarmac walking. In fact, I reckon 90% of today was by road. My feet took a beating, but it was worth it for the views.
Again I was in no rush. I was soaking in the silence and peace. Apart from the sound of my footsteps and the occasional bird. There was nothing to be heard.
At Bolaño I stopped at a picnic bench overlooking the rolling hills. I had done 13km and felt the need for some snacks. It was bliss.
A gradual decline along the road giving great views of the reservoir got me to Campobecerros, with the promise of a cold drink and food. Unfortunately only the former was on offer.
A short up climb through Portocamba finally took me off the road onto a forest gravel track. It hugged the mountain side with constant views of the valley to my right.
Each corner had picturesque scenery. At ‘As Eiras’ I was back on the road for the last 6km into Laza. Known for its festival where the villagers wear huge hats with animals painted on them.
I had to check in at the ambulance station for the albergue; getting the keys to the building. Again I’ll be the only peregrino stopping the night – this is now day 4 without seeing a pilgrim.
Chores done I had a walk around the village. The shop closed at 2.30pm and the restaurant didn’t open until 6pm. I went for a siesta.
At 6 I went in search for a beer. Everything was still closed except for a small back alley taberna. An inebriated Spaniard was propping up the bar. Tattoos all down his arms, neck and knuckles. Hooped earrings.
I had already entered. I ordered a caña. Impressed I went for a big beer, he struck up a conversation. This really put my pigeon Spanish to the test.
90% of what he said – no idea. But what I did get, he is visiting his mum. Lives in Switzerland. Loves heavy heavy metal music and gave me the low down for tomorrow’s stage.
I then asked him about somewhere to eat. He took me to a local restaurant that is open! One not on google maps. I bought him a drink for his time.
The Camino magic didn’t stop there. This weekend there is a tradition where local singers bring their instruments to bars and serenade the patrons.
After some food I retired for the night. Tomorrow’s stage is a tough one.
Stu's Camino 