I woke early, just past 6am. I didn’t sleep too well. The albergue was opposite a train station. the windows rattled throughout the night as trains rolled in and out of the station in an endless procession. I packed my gear chatting briefly with Claudio before heading out at 6:45. I crossed the tracks and headed towards a field. The air was cool with a deep orange sun hugging the horizon. It appeared bigger than normal, closer somehow. The way was going to be hot.
I was dragging this morning after such a long first day on pavement. The sun rose as I walked through the fields, corn towering on either side. Aside from the field I was currently in, the way was still quite industrial, but the air felt cleaning. I was catching glimpses of rural Portugal. I arrived in the quaint town of Villa Nova da Rainha. It was still early but I found a small cafe with a friendly owner who was happy to serve a weary pilgrim breakfast. After two coffees and a pasty I began to feel myself again.
I checked my guidebook deciding on a short day which would set me up well for Santerem, the first historical city I was looking forward to visiting on the hike. One good thing about long days is that it beats your mind into submission. You are too exhausted to overthink things. All you care about is town, food, a bed, and doing it again the next day.
I left Villa Nova de Rainha expecting a 6km slog down the n10 highway, but after half a kilometer, the path cut to the right into wetlands running parallel to the same train tracks I had slept beside the night before. I followed the path away from civilization. Birds chirped, gathering in the murky waters. Reeds blew in the wind, rustling their well wishings as I passed by. The sky grew overcast, cloud blocking the bright sun. To the left, across the tracks I saw the industrial lungs of Portugal wheezing and belching from smokestacks. To my right, agricultural lands spread far into the distance, the smell of rich soil hanging heavy in the air. The thin strip of dirt I walked on balanced between the two.
I arrived in Azambura around 13:00. I briefly considered pushing on, but decided against it. I was in no rush, and still had a long way to go to Santiago. It would be good to give my legs a rest. I found a local supermarket, grabbed some supplies: cheese, bread, and salami, and found a quiet spot in the local park to eat. I pulled out my harmonica and played the blues. Life was simple.
At 15:00 I checked into the small albergue with 12 other pilgrims. Most were Italian, including Claudio, with an American, and two Australians. I returned to the park until the sun set. It felt great to rest, but by the end of the day I was ready to continue. I could tell that every step takes me further from civilization, and closer to where I belong.