Camino Portuguese - Part 8

From Vigo to Pontevedra - At the Mercy of the Weather Gods

Smoke filled skies of Vigo, Spain

As I left the hostel on Sept 1, the talk was of massive flooding across central Europe. Here on the Iberian Peninsula, hot and windy weather persisted with daily day time highs of 80-85F. The pristine coastline was replaced with walking on hot, unforgiving pavement with no shade. It definitely took a toll on my body as I limped into Vigo for a much needed two day stay. But alas the winds of weather are everchanging. News of the wildfires that closed much of the way between Lisbon and Porto finally reached Spain. I arrived too smoke-filled skies. Thick hazy smog had blanketed the city of Vigo. At least the temperatures had pop cooled off.

The history of Galicia Providence is rich and varied. It derives its name from the Celtic, Gallaecian who lived there as the Romans conquered the region. There are still remnants of Celtic culture in music, art and yes even some ruins.

I spent my day off wandering the streets, sampling seafood and wine that the region is known for. Walking up the hilltop overlooking the city where Monte O Castro is located. An old archeological site dating back between the 3rd and 1st century BC.

The skies finally cleared as I left Vigo using google maps as my constant companion, those yellow arrows, were nowhere to be found in this concrete jungle. A croissant and coke zero to fuel my body filled with songs to make me smile. A song that makes me thing of home and pushes me along. It's 9am and children are off to school, parents off to work. The bakeries busy and food stalls opening there gates.

"Baby I'm from New York. Concrete jungles where dreams are made of. There's nothing you can't do."

The urban maze winds uphill through a park where bicycles out number cars. Village after village. Park after park as I walk towards my next destination, Redondela. A small, sleepy village to grab dinner and a good night's rest.

I wake up to what I was dreading the most. The first signs of Galecia's wet season. I hoped to miss it, but alas it wasn't meant to be. I reached for my poncho that has been buried towards the bottom of my backpack. A steep uphill, forested path awaited me this day. There is a magical power about walking in a forest on a misty, drizzly morning.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and to see if I couldn't learn what it had to teach."

As I continue, Thoreau's Walden popped into my head. The many adventures in my twenties exploring the northeast states. The earthy smells brought tears to my eyes. The city energy replaced by foresty magic. Forest gave way to farms, fields and vineyards as I made my way downhill to the towns of Arcade. It was here the Spanish forces were able to force the French troops led by Napolean in 1809 to retreat and evacuate from Galicia. Across the Puente Sampian bridge, a relic from the Roman area.

Not every day on the Camino is filled with magic. Leaving Arcade, I knew the way would be similar, wooded trails, up and down hills with old roman rocky paths. My energy level was really low. I struggled with each step, both physically and mentally. The Portuguese Camino has three paths that converge in Redondela. The influx of pilgrims on the trail was mind blowing. I missed the solitude of feeling like the only one.

And the Camino provided. Halfway through the day the main trail divided. The main trail continues on the road while a smaller hidden path goes through an urban forest park. As I approached, the forest trail was blocked by red and white caution tape. I knew I shouldn't go. But I went anyway, and no one was there. It was me alone in the woods, just what the soul needed. There were some trees uprooted, hence the caution tape but otherwise it was clear. All too soon the trail re-emerged onto the road as I approached my destination for a mini vacation, the city of Pontevedra.