I had planned to spend another day resting in Lisbon before I started walking, but by 5:00am, with jet lag keeping me awake, and the draw of the trail, I knew I would be out the door at the first rays of sunlight. I packed my bag, filled my water bladder and studied the day’s route. The way seemed flat, mostly through the outskirts of Lisbon before heading inland. I planned for about a 30km day. At 6:45am, I dropped the keys at the front desk of my hotel, and closed the door behind me.
Foggy clung to the water, tendrils snaking into the narrow city streets. A light glow emanated from the horizon, casting shadows as locals began their day. Delivery trucks carrying breads and milk stopped on each corner, catching with owners. The occasional runner pounded up steep inclines, offering me a buen camino between heavy breaths. I was back where I belonged - on the trail.
I climbed a narrow street to the Cathedral de Se, the official start of the camino. I briefly stopped by yesterday to collect my credential, obtain my first stamp, and scope out the route. In general, the camino’s are well marked with yellow arrows, but I have learned that navigating out of cities in the dark is hard. It’s always best to find the next arrow in the day light, then return the following day.
I walked up to arrow, leaned down and touched it, marking the beginning of my journey. Beside me, a taxi pulled up and a man wearing a blue flannel shirt and carrying a backpack, exited. He introduced himself as Jesus, from Barcelona. He too was walking the camino. I picked up my backpack and we headed off today. We chatted briefly before parting ways. He was making a solid pace and pushed on. I wouldn’t see Jesus again until 19 days later when I passed him walking into Santiago.
I continued walking, the sun rising on the horizon. The way took me towards the waterfront where I walked watching the day come alive. The path stretched out across the water along a wooden boardwalk. After 6km of hard, urban walking, the wood felt soft beneath my feet. The fog had burned off and a light breeze caressed my face. I was free and happy, the constant noice of my mind, still.
I turned inland, bidding farewell to the sea, and followed a river inland. I passed under highways, passed bus depots, and derelict house. I saw remnants of squatter camps, rubbish, and overgrown bush. The city faded away for the next 5km, but was never far out of reach. I arrived in Alverca, about 20km from Lisbon. My guidebook indicated that there was a small albergue here and a good option to start slow before building up the miles. It was too early to stop. I continued on aiming for Alhandra, another ~6km ahead. Just passed town I met up with an Italian pilgrim, Claudio. Claudio and I hiked, and chatted for the next hour before I pushed on, eventually arriving in Alhandra at around 14:30.
I found a bar and ordered a coffee, my first for the day since leaving Lisbon. In broken Spanish, with a smattering of Portuguese I asked her where the albergue was. Angrily, she said there were no places to stay in the entire town, and walked off. Had I said something to offend her, or was she just tired of pilgrims asking the same question? I typically walk in the Autumn months, at the start of the camino season. This time, however, it was August. Pilgrims had already been walking for months already. I paid my bill, wished her a good day and hunted for accommodation.
I found nowhere to stay in Alhandra. I had no choice but to push on. I walked another 10km, mostly along pavement, following the waterfront again. Cyclists whizzed passed, families strolled into the afternoon sun, and I plodded on. I felt tired, but strong. My feet throbbed with the hard ground, getting tender after so much road walking. I had read that the first few days out of Lisbon were pretty rough. By the time I reached Villafranca, I had put in 40kms on my first day! I found an albergue near the train station, paid $12, dropped my gear in a small room with two bunk beds and took a shower.
After the shower, I returned to the room to find Claudio, the Italian I had walked with earlier, occupying the bunk beside me. I guess he hadn’t found any accommodation earlier either. I lay on my bed, relaxing, flipping through my guidebook. Tomorrow I could go either 18km or 30km depending on how I feel. Jet lag began to kick in. I called it a night by 20:00 hoping to get a good night sleep, ready for another day on the trail.