21km

Out the glass windows of the albergue, I see a layer of clouds between the mountains below me.

At 8.30am, I go for breakfast at the same place we had dinner last night, starting the day with a cortado, bizcocho (sponge cake), and zumo naranja natural (freshly squeezed orange juice).

I leave the bar at 9am, but admire the view for a bit more before I leave the town. It’s -2°C but it feels alright, even refreshing. I start off on a gravel path with mud, a line of snow, and just some ice to be careful of. The path is adjacent and elevated next to a road, and the occasional car passes by below me.

At Liñares, I sit down at some benches near a water fountain and take some bites of my barra de pan. Edoardo catches up, and we walk at equal pace for some time.

As I ascend up another snow path to Alto do Poio, I concentrate to avoid anything translucent, aiming for gravel or snow.

There’s finally an open bar when I ascend to Alto do Poio. Edoardo is already there. I get sopa de lentejas (lentil soup) and café con leche, which gives welcome warmth. Antonio and Gerlinde come in after, taking refuge together from the cold.

I take a snow path next to a road. It’s flat, and easier, and the crunch of snow makes a nice sound. I get used to the rhythm, perhaps a bit complacent, because I slip on some ice and have my second fall this Camino, with my tailbone landing on my trekking pole, which doesn’t feel good.

The smell of farms waft over. I find a steady pace again. I have my next fall soon after, as I near Fonfría.

At Fonfría, there’s a closed albergue with an outdoor beer garden. I stretch it out at some benches there. I hope my body fares ok from those falls.

I start descending towards warmer climes ahead of me. Snow starts to disappear from the path, which makes for a steadier walk with less fear. I love snow, but I now appreciate these dry steps after my two falls. I’m also accompanied by green hilly landscapes, and I like that I can now enjoy the amazing views without watching my feet.

The sound of flowing water and a small waterfall is welcome familiarity. The world is not frozen, it’s moving again.

At Fillobal, there’s a man washing his farm equipment. I sit on some benches along a slope in the quiet town, for some water and a bite of bread.

Follwing a dirt path lined by trees going down, I hear the tweeting of birds. Mossy walls demarcate my path, and the dappled light on them is lovely. I hum a tune to myself as the footsteps get regular.

I take a break at some benches before the route crosses the road, and have a stretch. I finish my Takis and turrón and have some torreznos.

At Pasantes, large dogs growl at me aggressively. At one of the houses, a large one is chained, but the other slips below the gate and comes towards me. I shout, “No, go away!” repeatedly and point my stick at them, as I walk steadily past, adrenaline in my veins.

At the end of the town, there’s a fountain that creates a stream in the middle of the downhill stone path. Sunlight glitters on the flowing water. The sound gives some calm after the harrowing encounter.

The town of Triacastela appears on my left about a kilometre away, nestled within surrounding hills, looking good in sunlight. Birdsong is in the air and a tiny stream alongside the path makes its way down with me. Mossy rock walls and fallen autumn leaves line the sides. It’s a world of difference from this morning.

Ingrid sends me a photo of my discarded Takis and turrón packets in the bin at the rest stop. She’s just behind me on my trail!

I check into the Xunta albergue at Triacastela. David, Antonio, and Edoardo are already there, and Ingrid arrives soon after. James is at a hostel with Gerlinde, but they join us for dinner too at the nearby restaurant, one of the only two open in the town. I get sopa de lentejas (lentil soup) a beef steak and fries, and to our delight, there is queso con miel (cheese and honey). A simple meal that fills.