Camino Perspectives: Laza to Xunqueira de Ambia

 "The beauty of nature is a gift that cultivates appreciation and gratitude."
Louie Schwartzberg

Camino Sanabrés  Stage 8 / Via de la Plata Stage 32

We set the alarm clock for 5:00 AM this morning, knowing the stage was a long one with a 900 m elevation gain at the outset of the morning’s trek along the Camino Sanabrés in addition to the fact that the weather forecast called for 32°C by early afternoon.  Although our room in the hostel was very quiet last night, it was on the top floor and was also very hot, meaning we didn't get much sleep.   After a breakfast of coffee from downstairs and our usual breakfast of bread and jam, it was a relief to escape into the cooler air outside.

Return to the Camino

Navigating the luggage set out in the hallways for transport this morning, we deposited our keys and made our way down the quiet streets of town.  En route, we stopped to admire the church, whose steeple was lit up from within.  Many small birds and a few bats were busily hunting for insects around the lights along the main route.  As we followed the paved road out of town, the streetlamps behind us made a line of warm lights leading back towards the comforts of civilization. 

For the first few kilometres, we walked along the highway, which followed the quiet river valley.  As the sky grew lighter, we saw mist rising from the river on one side, partially hidden by a line of trees.  Occasionally, we would catch a glimpse of the meadows and hay fields beyond the trees, looking like a magic world just out of reach.  At one point, a deer leapt and bounded through the tall grasses, quickly disappearing across the water in a truly impressive bound.  

We Each Walk our Own Camino

The morning seemed to just keep getting more beautiful.  As we stood on the edge of the road, Sean was photographing when we were passed by a pilgrim we had seen several times.  He was marching with great speed and determination, and seemed to have chosen to walk straight down the middle of the road instead of following the yellow arrows into the first village of the day.  

We had seen him doing this for the past few stages, always walking on the road, not to the side but directly down the middle, waving for cars to go around him. Last night, when someone finally asked him about this behaviour, he explained that the Camino was meant to follow the Roman road, not a made-up trail beside it, and so he was staying true to the original route, which lay beneath the pavement. He went on to lecture the room, insisting that everyone else was actually walking farther than necessary and that his way was the smarter choice.

I have always found it interesting to see how we all create boundaries to justify ourselves while critiquing others. Every day, we saw him marching straight down the roadway, regardless of how much traffic there was. Each time we passed him, we were amazed that he hadn’t been struck by a car or killed by a truck. Today, as we checked our GPX tracks, we saw him again. We called out and pointed to the Camino route, but he simply waved back in a friendly manner and continued striding down the middle of the road, clearly intent on following his own way.  

I had to remind myself once again that we each walk our own Caminos, but not for the first time, I couldn't help feeling that being in too much of a hurry to experience this magical morning would be a missed opportunity to experience one of the many gifts of a pilgrimage.

Soutelo Verde

About half an hour into our walk, we reached Soutelo Verde.  This sleepy village was located on the main road and offered the possibility of a coffee, but nothing was open so early in the morning.  Despite this, it was a beautiful, typically Galician village with many well-kept stone homes with slate roofs and flower boxes outside.  It also featured a covered outdoor lavanderia, which is something we haven't seen in a while. As we crossed over a small stream, we passed a tiny chapel and also saw a very nice covered rest area for pilgrims.  It was too early for us to take a break, but we appreciated the thought.  Another interesting thing we spotted was a home that had corn hanging from the rafters on its porch in long braids.  Most of them had been stripped clean, but one bunch still had the dried corn husks intact.

When we passed out of the village, we followed a dirt track that continued to weave through the quiet countryside.  Large vegetable gardens, small ploughed fields, meadows, orchards, and hay fields blanketed the valley floor, framed by the outlines of rounded mountains.  The mist was still rising in the fields, and as the sun rose, we found ourselves once again marvelling at the ethereal beauty around us.

We had looked at the elevation profile for today's stage and knew that we had a big climb early on in the day.  Obviously, I once again hadn't paid enough attention to the details, because I had thought the climb would begin at the edge of Laza, and I had hoped we could get through as much of it as possible before the sun rose and the temperatures began to increase.

Tamicelas Spain

It took another half an hour to reach the village of Tamicelas, another small collection of homes and old stone buildings, some of which looked like very romantic stone ruins.  It wasn't until after this small community, which had a lovely mountain view, that the climb began in earnest.  Straight out of town, we began huffing and puffing our way up a steep dirt track.  Almost as soon as we began, the sun poked its face above the treed ridge on the far edge of the river canyon, bringing with it stunning views.

For a few minutes, our progress ground to a halt as the white mist rose up from the valleys below us and the blue shapes and curves of the mountains appeared in layers that receded into the distance.  On either side of the trail, exuberant sprays of broom exploded in bright yellow blossoms, while small mounds of purple heather added additional colour.  As if that wasn't enough, dew sparkled on the tall grasses on the trail's edge, and turned the blankets of spiders' webs in the grasses to silver.

Progress was slow, not just because of the steep, rocky terrain but also because we stopped to photograph and enjoy the spectacular mountain scenery.  Eventually, the track took us up into a stand of pines, and even though it was still early, we could already smell the slightly spicy scent of hot pine needles in the air.  It reminded me of so many other pine forests I've known, including those along the Trans Canada Trail in northern Ontario, and a few memorable stands along the Camino de Madrid.  However, I also noticed that in the here and now, it was going to get hot very soon.

Elevation Gain

At one point, the Camino arrows pointed us up onto a very steep, rocky stretch of track.  I obediently followed the rugged hiking route, while Sean opted to follow the wider, flatter logging road that curved around the slope lower down. 

We kept each other in sight most of the time, and when the Camino made a jog away from the steep sides of the river canyon, I made sure Sean switch backed up the slope back to the trail.  He reported that there had been a significant washout on the lower track, leaving only a very narrow ledge on which to balance while not plunging into the river far below.  It made me very grateful that I had taken the higher road, as that kind of terrain terrifies me. 

Albergueria

It was a long climb, and when we finally reached the top, the sun's rays were already hot.  We followed a paved road into the small town of Albergueria, where the Cicerone guidebook suggested we should end today's stage.  Almost right away, we spotted the albergue, and outside was sitting the lady in the Camino shell shirt whom we've been seeing on the trail the last few days.  We really should ask her name.  She was sitting outside with a coffee, and had a cat under the chair and a dog beside her. As always, she radiated happiness and contentment. 

When we ducked into the bar, we discovered that the walls, ceilings, and every available surface in a side room were covered in scallop shells that bore the drawings and messages of pilgrims who had previously passed through.  It was really interesting looking, and the owner was extremely nice. Upon reflection, we realized that this establishment represented a shift in this Camino.  We are now less than 150 km from Santiago, and we had just found an open pilgrim bar, that had a stamp, and served Santiago cake (which of course, we had for a snack!).  Only a few short days ago, none of those things existed on this Camino.

As we enjoyed our second breakfast, we chatted with our fellow pilgrim. She told us that this was her ninth Camino, but that she felt like something on this one was different than previous ones.  We had felt the same way, but none of us could put our finger on exactly what it is.  She also said that now we are so close to the end, it is hard for her to stop walking.  We have seen this phenomenon before, when some pilgrims speed up to reach the end, while others slow down to make the journey last as long as possible.  Many of the pilgrims on this route have expressed a dislike for the final 100 km of the trail into Santiago, which makes the desire to speed up and get them done strong.  We are still torn between the two extremes.

Hiking Boot Woes

As we all got ready to leave, our companion was putting her shoes back on and showed us the bottoms. She has walked from Seville, and she has literally walked through the soles of her running shoes!  She managed to plug a large hole in the sole of one with a plastic spoon, but it can't be comfortable to walk on! This puts my dissatisfaction with my own Keen boots, whose tread is gone and whose soles have flattened and collapsed into perspective. While walking the 28,000 km long Trans Canada Trail, my previous pairs of Keen hiking boots used to last around 2,500 km before they needed replacing, but my current pair will be done when we reach Santiago, having covered only around half that distance.

After Albergueria, the map made it look like the walk would be mostly flat, with the exception of one hill near the end of the day.  This didn't seem to be the case.  We followed a gravel track across open fields and countryside for a little while.  From pastoral pastures to hay fields with fieldstone walls to divide them, the views were pleasant.  Apple trees in the hedgerows were blooming white and filling the warm air with a strong, sweet smell, and flower-covered bramble bushes reminded us of hiking Wainwright's Coast to Coast Path in England.

If we thought we were finished with the climbing, we were mistaken.  As we ascended gently but steadily along an exposed track, we were passed by the first of quite a few cyclists who would zip by today.  After a short while, we were back in another stand of pines, the smell of hot pine pitch now strong in the hot air.  Slowly, the views ahead began to open up, showing hills in the distance that were covered in golden blooming broom, and a valley blanketed with patches of green and brown fields.

Vilar do Barrio

After passing a huge wooden cross, we began a steep descent down into the wide, flat valley.  The dirt track was quite badly washed out, and the loose gravel made for slow going.  When we finally made it to the bottom, we were relieved to find ourselves on a partially shaded grassy track bordered by moss-covered stone walls.  This turned into a quiet paved road that was also shaded by small oak and chestnut trees, which led us to Vilar do Barrio, the largest village on today's stage.

We were very happy to find an open bar, and gratefully stepped into the darkness inside to gulp down two ice-cold Aquarius.  The young French couple was just finishing their cold drinks, and we stopped to chat for a bit.  They were struggling with the heat as well.  The lady behind the bar kindly gave us a small snack as well, which we greatly appreciated.  Receiving a 'little something' with our coffee or drinks was not a custom in southern Spain, and we had missed it during the long days of walking.

We debated about whether to get two Aquarius to take with us, but in the end decided to take another break in the village 3 km from here, which was also supposed to have a bar.  We should have known better by this time.  Ignoring our rule of always taking advantage of a service when it is available, if we think we might want it later, is never a good idea.  Unfortunately, that was the last open bar we found today, and while we did encounter quite a few fountains later on, none were specifically labelled as having potable water, which made us hesitate to refill our water bottles.

After our break, we headed back out into the bright sunshine and baking heat to continue through Vilar de Barrio.  The Camino spirit was strong in the town, with several creative signs and small Camino displays to brighten up the Way. We also stopped to look at the church, although as usual it was not open when we passed through.

Boveda

We followed a gently undulating paved roadway to Boveda, glad of partial shade from the surrounding trees as we went.  The sun on the hot pavement was radiating heat up at us, and we were wondering how we would manage to keep going as the afternoon wore on. As always, we could only hope for shade along the way, and not for the first time, it crossed our minds that this wasn't a trail to be walked in the height of summer.

By the time we climbed back up into the village of Boveda, we were feeling overheated.  We were surprised to see a whole collection of horreos scattered throughout the community, some of which were truly impressive in size.  It was a rather modern village, and very well kept, again with lots of flowers flowing over fences and garden walls.  We had hoped to find a cold drink here, but sadly were out of luck.  Boveda was essentially adjacent to Vilar do Gomereite, so we didn't give up hope until we reached the edge of the next town.  There we found a large fountain, complete with several pools.  The French couple were huddled at the edge, enjoying a bite of lunch in the shadow of a horreo, and they watched with amusement as we soaked our hats and poured cold water on ourselves.

Road Walking 

After this, we had a rather painful stretch of trail on a paved road across the flat plain of the valley bottom.  There was almost no shade at all, and the sun was beating down.  On either side were fields of newly ploughed earth, hay that was being harvested, and patches of newly planted crops.  The track was blindingly bright, and we found ourselves moving from shade puddle to shade puddle under the few trees that offered any relief.  The last time things got this bad was walking into Moissac on the Via Podiensis (GR65) in temperatures that topped 40°C. We were hoping to avoid the heat sickness that had caught up with us there.

As we walked on the large group of cyclists who passed us on the long descent into Laza passed us again.  We had thought they would be long gone by now, but their energy gave us a boost as they waved at us, wished us 'Buen Caminos,' and pedalled off singing vigorously to each other.  A short while later another cyclists peddled past, stopping to make sure he wasn't interrupting Sean as he photographed the trail ahead before going on ahead, humming to himself. We greatly appreciated his consideration, something that is increasingly rare in a world where we tend to pay less attention to our surroundings and the needs of others than we could.

We weren't the only hikers struggling with the heat.  We passed a lady we've never seen before who was sitting in the shade, looking miserable. She laboriously hauled herself to her feet as we passed, and we asked if she was okay.  She said yes, but she didn't look too well.  She was wearing a tank top, no hat, and had only a 500 mL bottle of water.  She didn't seem to speak English, but insisted she was okay.  We noticed that she did have some water left, and at this point, the French couple were behind us, so we continued on, trusting that if she was in trouble, they could help. 

Padroso

It was a long 5 km to Padroso, and we were glad to be off the baking hot plain. At the edge of town, we were greeted by a slew of colourful hand-painted wooden signs with encouraging Camino-based messages.  The inspirational quotes continued throughout the tiny village, accompanied by hiking boots that had been spray-painted blue and yellow and other creative art.  The Camino spirit was strong once again, and it helped to boost our spirits.

What helped even more was a fountain with ice-cold water.  We basically soaked ourselves and our clothes, which brought down our body temperatures a little.  This felt very good, but we didn't realize we were in for an even bigger treat. 

On the far side of the village, we found ourselves following a completely shaded track bordered by mossy stone walls.  A canopy of chestnut and oak trees closed over our heads, making a cool green corridor that came complete with its own breeze. It felt like heaven!

Variety on the Way

We enjoyed this as long as possible, before setting off on the next section of the trail.  It is difficult to describe what came next, except to say that it seemed to include a sampling of every kind of trail we've had on this Camino so far.  We had a short stretch of road walking, during which we climbed up to a dirt track that was bordered by huge, blossoming broom bushes. 

There was no shade, and as we climbed higher on a completely exposed track, it began to feel like we were in an inferno.  Sean didn't appreciate the seemingly pointless meandering in the heat, but I suspect the detour was made so we could enjoy the panoramic views of the countryside, which were quite stunning.

    

Struggling on the trail next descended steeply along a rocky slope, which was not enjoyable on tired legs and with exhausted bodies.  After this, as though hearing our prayers for shade to cool off in the Camino wove into a forested tunnel along a muddy and wet track.  Eventually, we would pass through another small village before our final push into Xungueira de Ambia. 

Xunqueira de Ambia

We walked into the town of Xunqueira de Ambia completely shattered. Hoping for some relief, we went to sit in the cool of the church, a site where the Virgin Mary is said to have appeared in the 4th century. Since then, a monastery, a cloister, and a pilgrim hospital had all been built around it. Unfortunately, the church was closed and would remain locked for the night.

By late afternoon, we collapsed at the nearest bar across from the church and ordered a cold beer in its dark interior. After several attempts, we finally managed to reach our accommodations and then walked the two short blocks over. There, we gratefully changed out of our soaked clothes and took a shower.

In the evening, we went out to buy groceries, find something to eat, and explore the chapel.  However, the church was still closed, and even after sunset the heat remained oppressive, so we didn’t explore much, though the region itself, framed by views of the surrounding mountains, was stunning.

Camino Perspectives

We are now very close to Santiago, which means we have to begin making decisions about what we will do when we arrive and what comes next. The question of the day seems to be whether to speed up or slow down.

Some pilgrims are asking themselves if this will be their last Camino. Many comment that something feels different this time, that perhaps this will be the last Camino,  yet in the same breath, they admit to being addicted to the lifestyle and are already making plans for the fall or for next year.

There is a lingering question in many pilgrims’ minds now. Perhaps at the heart of this uncertainty is the fact that the final 100 km is not anticipated with much enthusiasm by those who began their Camino in Seville, Granada, or Cádiz.

For ourselves, the same questions hover in the background. Each journey feels complete in its own way, yet with every step we are reminded how much the Camino has shaped us, and how difficult it would be to imagine life without its rhythm and lessons.  Only the future holds those answers; however, right now, all we can do is continue on as best as we can. 

See you on the Way!