Claudio and I left early, just before 6am. The sun had yet to rise. The weather was already warm at 22c. Today was estimated to be one of the hottest so far. The light of our headlamps danced across the stone walls lining the outskirts of town. Before long, town faded into beautiful dirt tracks, hugging the side of a meandering river. Trees, bent and withered with age, hung over the trail. Dew clung to spiderwebs, glinting in early light.
We were about 50km to Porto, and I had a decision to make. I had planned to take a rest day in Porto before continuing the remaining 240km to Santiago. My left tendon had been bothering me the past few days. After a few hours walking, the pain usually subsided - or perhaps it was the multiple cups of coffee on the way, who am I to know. I’d been pushing pretty hard with many 30km+ days, and Porto is a city that I have longed to explore more. After my last camino, I had caught a bus from Santiago to Lisbon with a brief stop over in Porto. The hour I had to explore wasn’t nearly long enough. Now, I had walked all the way back here. I deserved some time to immerse myself in the city.
Before we reached Porto though, we had to figure out today’s route. The logical choice was to split the two days into a managable 25km each. I had my eyes set on Lourosa though. Lourosa was 35km from Albergeria de Nova. My guidebook had indicated that there was a Bomberos, or Fire Station, in town which allowed pilgrims to stay. I had tried to stay in a Bomberos my first day out of Lisbon, but it was closed. Lourosa was my last chance. I made up my mind and set my sights on a long hot day.
Claudio and I kept a good pace passing the time making up funny stories and recording short videos like we were some big-time youtube influencer. Claudio narrated our surroundings like the cow patty he almost stepped in, or the pointless signs that appeared to have no idea how near or far Santiago really was. I played a n upbeat musical score on my harmonica. As much as I tried to give it a spanish feel, the melody always sounded more like a Irish lilt on crack. We laughed for hours, effortlessly crossing the landscape.
By early afternoon, our exuberance had wained, replaced with a sweat-drenched determination. I checked my phone. The temperature read 36c. There was no shade. We had left it far behind as the outer suburbs of Porto spread its urban wings. We trudged on meeting up with Agata and the other Italians. I sucked down water from my camelback. The sun radiated off the bitchumen underfoot. Did I tell you how much I hate walking on roads? It’s a lot. a lot, a lot.
We arrived at the Bomeros just past 3pm. Friendly and accomodating, the fireman stamped our credentials and showed us to the gym. In the far corner, a pile of old foam mats was stacked to shoulder height. Opposite the gym were the showers, and next door, a McDonalds. The entire setup was very basic, and I loved it!
I pulled a mattress from the stack, flinging it over to Claudio, then grabbed another for me, putting it up against the wall. I dumped the contents of my backpack atop the mat, spread out my sleeping back, and grabbed my toiletries before heading to the showers.
Clean and fresh, I headed up to McDonalds to do a little work, feed the hiker hunger, and relax. I booked a hotel in Porto for two nights, and researched restaurants where I could get lasagne. Perhaps it was walking with Italians for the past two weeks, but I had been craving a huge slice of lasagna! Yes, hiker hunger is real.
In the evening, we went to a small restaurant for a meal of, yup, you guessed it pasta. We shared wine and salad talking about our plans post Porto. The route split with two primary options: one along the coast, and the other more central. The central route was the traditional path, and the one I planned to take. Both paths intersected about 5 days further north. I wanted to take the traditional route and planned to pick up the coastal route in the future after I had done the Camino del Norte.
Outside, the sky had turned a dark blue. Streaks of crimson clouds painted the horizon. It was still hot, with the gym stuffy with little breeze coming through the small windows set high in the walls. I lay on my sleeping bag looking around me. Despite my simple surroundings I was content. That part of my brain that always wanted more, always wanted to be on the move, always wanted what’s next, was still. I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep happy and content.