22 apr

Walked from A Gudina to Albergueria, 49 kilometres, including going steep down for one kilometre and steep up again after I misjudged a sign that was posted there to be misjudged. I was in the middle of a high speed train construction site when I realized something must have gone wrong. When I looked up the mountain, I saw all the pelegrino’s that I had passed earlier taking a different route. The fastest one is not always the first one, I told a group of Australian pilgrims that I had passed after chatting with a charming older woman for a while, and then had lunch with. They ordered a splendid omelet for me, to comfort me for my extra journey. It wasn’t necessary, the comfort. A long time ago I agreed to accept the mistakes I would make as part of the experience. Rather not make them on these long walking days.
Arrive here in Albergueria in the most charming pub. The owner is also a hospitaleros, owner of an albergue. His pub is filled with scallop shells with the names of pelegrino’s who have stayed at his albergue. There are hundreds, probably thousands of them. I can not see a spot where mine will be.
The last seven kilometres to Albergueria were a serious climb again. Difficult enough on any given day, but just strenuous on a day when you’ve already walked 40 kilometres. The barkeeper was a little sick and didn’t make supper. Luckily the French family – two sisters and a brother and two spouses of one of the sisters and the brother – invited me for dinner just when I arrived. I felt a little like returning to Merlin and dinner being served. The meal was good and simple, but not up to the standards that Julie has been setting.
Talking about spring. i saw bluebells again and lots of flowering fruit trees. The same thing as I saw in the beginning of March in France. It’s about 800 metres higher here, that makes all the difference. Saw the first potatoes coming up though. Made my heart ake again.
There were mostly clouds today, even a little rain, but it was spectacularly beautiful. The first four hours (including my detour) we walked basically on top of Galicia, with the spectacular views that come with walking on top of the world. Had to think of Into the Mystic by Van Morrison, inspired by what Deb wrote about that some months ago.
Every day turns out to have a certain theme song. Tomorrow will be associated with ‘Op een mooie Pinksterdag’, the sweetest song about a father-daughter relationship ever. Pity you english speakers that you do not have access to this cultural excellence, but here it is.

Just one other thought. There are clear differences between the Real Camino and this Via de la Plata. One clear sign is that the Galician road markers are not vandalized on this route. The beautiful tiles with the lovely interpretation of the scallop shell have been chiselled away from every marker, except one or two, on the real Camino. Here they’re all there, except one or two. The real Camino is a tourist attraction, with all the negative aspects from tourist behaviour. Here we have dedicated walkers.
The thing that’s mostly gone from the markers is the indication of the distance to Santiago. When I first saw one it said: 237,536 kilometres to go. Who really cares about this much detail, I wondered. The distance was also way overstretched, because it uses a track mainly used by bikers. This morning in A Gudina I was frightened by a sign that walkers would have to take this longer route too. The shorter route was unavailable because of the high speed train works. Luckily a villager came out of his door, saw me looking at the board and told me there was no problem. Phew, compared to the extra 40 kilometres I would have had to walk, the two I did were just peanuts.