25km

I eat a small breakfast with Ingrid at the albergue, and we leave at 9am, the last to do so. We walk past the bar we had dinner at last night and realise it is open, and the Moon family, Gerlinde, Edoardo, and Antonio are having breakfast. So we stop there too to get some coffee.

We set off to a light drizzle. The forest ahead is misty. At this stage you have to choose between two ways, via San Xil (17.8km), or via Samos (25km). Both are known to be good walks. Ingrid and I choose Samos because the route is closer a river, and there’s apparently a beautiful monastery at Samos.

The mist hangs low. I exhale steam with each breath. We go along some wooden boardwalks by the road, trees with maroon-tinged tips around us. There’s the sound of a fast-flowing river below on our left, and of birdsong.

I stop to take a pee after San Cristovo do Real, and so I end up without Ingrid. The path after goes through forest, and with the twisting branches, the moss and the mist…being alone in the forest takes on a mystical air. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found a witch now.

The rain gets heavier at times, one of the heavier rains so far. It’s wet and cold, and I would love a coffee, but the small, old villages we pass through are mysteriously empty.

The constant rain means that I can’t write or take much photos, so I focus on walking for some time.

At Samos, I step into the first bar I find. Ingrid is there, she just arrived and got a coffee. I join her, getting a coffee of my own. I order a tortilla francesa (plain omelette) and receive a huge bocadillo of it. I didn’t hear them say “bocadillo” clearly, so end up getting more food than I wanted. But it’s alright. I eat half and para llevar (takeaway) the rest.

The rain is lighter when we leave the bar. The air is also less misty and a bit clearer. The monastery was nice from up top, but checking it out, we don’t find it open and there doesn’t seem to be anything special to explore, so we move on.

As we walk along the highway, the rain stops. Big cargo trucks pass by us. We leave the highway to a forest path with old trees, ferns growing up their trunks. The sun comes out, and birds chirrup.

I tell Ingrid how after all the pork and beef, I’ve been dreaming of chicken, which seems to be served less here.

We see an interesting place with various carts of knick-knacks for sale in the garden, and go to check it out. At the entrance of the house, María is smoking, and calls to us excitedly and beckons us in. We realise it’s all part of a pensión, and María has been enjoying some food inside. Pensión A Fonte das Bodas is a homely place run by a lovely lady called Isabel. She asks if we want to eat, and we keep saying un poquito, having just eaten at Samos.

She sits us down at a cosy dining table with some wine. We accept her offer of caldo gallego, which warms our insides. Turns out we are actually hungry, or maybe because the food is good and warm. Isabel continues to ply us with food and wine, turning this into a proper meal. She serves us a plate of potatoes, chorizo, and chicken(!)—to my delight.

The meat of the chicken is not white, and tastes a bit like duck or turkey, although the texture is chicken. It’s delicious, maybe the best chicken I’ve ever had. I ask about it, and Isabel tells me she rears her own animals, along with the vegetables she also grows herself. It feels like another example of a Camino wish come true, the provision of something even better than what we could ever imagine.

The conversation in Spanish between Isabel, María, and Ingrid is really interesting, and I try to comprehend as much as I can. I am also newly christened as Xeremiño, now my local Galician name.

In Castilian Spanish, it’s common to add the suffix -ito to make something littler and cuter, for example, “un poco” > “un poquito”. In Galicia, “-iño” is used instead, so it would be “un poquiño”

Isabel ends the meal with cake that has crema de orujo poured over it. I am feeling such warmth (and not just because of the alcohol) just like in Grañón. She too, gives us hugs before we go. I think we spent two hours there, because it’s 4.50pm when we leave.

Walking with María is a vibe. She takes large strides with her two poles to the beat of music from her portable speaker. She introduces us to a Camino song, A Santiago Voy, her favourite being a modern cover.

A Santiago voy ligerito caminando
Y con mi paragüitas por si la lluvia me va mojando
A Santiago voy ligerito suspirando
Por mi niña Carmela que en Compostela me está esperando

Voy subiendo montañas, cruzando valles, siempre cantando
Oh, verde me acaricia porque a Galicia ya estoy llegando

A Santiago voy (lixeiriño)
A Santiago voy (camiñando)
Como un peregrino por el camino de la ilusión

A Santiago voy (a Santiago voy)
A Santiago voy (a Santiago voy)
Y con mi Carmela en Compostela me quedo yo

I’m going to Santiago by walking
And with my umbrella just in case the rain gets me wet
I go to Santiago slightly sighing
For my little girl Carmela who is waiting for me in Compostela

I’m climbing mountains, crossing valleys, always singing
Oh, green caresses me because I’m already arriving in Galicia

I’m going to Santiago (lightweight)
I’m going to Santiago (walking)
Like a pilgrim on the path of illusion

I’m going to Santiago (I’m going to Santiago)
I’m going to Santiago (I’m going to Santiago)
And I stay with my Carmela in Compostela

Isabel’s alcohol and María’s music makes the next few kilometres a blur. There’s some mud is but it doesn’t faze us. When I reach a fountain, I let the water wash my trail runners through.

We see Sarria ahead from about two kilometres away. The most delicate of showers start. The setting sun renders everything beautifully as we near the city. A full rainbow appears behind us, a precious fleeting moment.

Ingrid says someone told her Sarria is like “a city with the heart of a town”. It feels a bit like that on the way in, but I don’t go out to explore once I reach the albergue. It’s late, and the rest except Ingrid went out for dinner when I took a shower. I’m still full from Isabel’s and have half a bocadillo left, so I decide to stay and rest. It’s also so warm and comfortable here.

Sarria is slightly more than 100km from the ending at Santiago de Compostela. Some pilgrims who can’t do as much time or distance start their pilgrimage here, because it fulfils the requirement for the Compostela certificate.

We’re chilling together at the common area of the albergue, waiting for our clothes in the washing machine, when at 10pm, someone knocks on the door of the albergue. In walks a young Korean called Jae Hyeong. He’s had a long day, walking from O Cebreiro, my stop two nights ago. He had planned to stay in Samos, but the albergue was closed, so he went even further. We give him whatever food we have on hand to help assuage his hunger. He happens to really like my torreznos.