I woke up early, around 5:15am and was out the door of the albergue by 5:40. The sun had get to rise and walked through rolling eucalyptus covered hills. Heavy fog lay low filling the air with a damp, fresh scent of toiled soil. I hiked at ease, alone and at peace with my body and surroundings. This is why I love to hike. Everything slows down. Your thoughts drift, and your heart finds a rhythm with your steps. I always hear of the struggle to live in the moment. Some seek that moment through yoga. I find it comes easily on the trail.
Before I knew it, I had walked 15km in about three hours, stopping in a small town for my first break of the day. I found a local cafe, ordered coffee and an almond croissant so fresh that it melted in my mouth. I sipped my coffee slowly, every ounce of stress leaving my shoulders. I sat in silence, smiling to myself.
Eventually, I picked up my pack, threw it on my back, tightened the straps and headed out of town, climbing a hill, passing a large school before, once again, being enveloped by trees and a dirt track bordered by ancient stone walls, flecked with moss.
An hour later, I walked through a small pueblo where a pack of snarling dogs approached me, fangs bared. You get used to dogs along the camino. Most venture no further than their master’s property line, cautiously warning you to keep walking, but never really threatening. This time, however, it was different. This was the first time, I actually thought they would attack. I kept eye contact walking past them slowly trying to show no fear.
I continued out of time for another hour until I found a bit of shade and patch of grass. I was hungry and decided to take a break to eat some lunch. I pulled out some rice crackers and a tin of spicy sardines, heaping them atop. As I ate, another pilgrim, a middle aged Irish woman will a wonder lilting accent stopped briefly. She had quit her job and decided to walk the camino to think about the next phase in her life, and find some purpose. Like most people I have met so far on the Camino Portuguese, this was not her first camino, having completed the Frances a few years back. We discussed the difference between the two, agreeing that the Frances still has something special about it. I told her of the Le Puy route, by far the most beautiful of the camino routes I have completed so far. Speaking about the Le Puy, I knew I would have to walk it again.
I finished my meal, said farewell to the Irish pilgrim and continued on. I walked the remaining 9km arriving in town feeling fresh, like I could keep walking for hours still. I consider going on, but stopped the Albergue. I was called Albergue Bonito. And, you know what, it truly was bonito. There was a pool, small cafe, and great beds. As I checked in, the rest of the Italians arrived. There is not much else to say, but bonito.