I do like Margo’s mile count (Strava miles), and it’s most likely far more accurate as we deviate each day for coffee and bathrooms and other such diversions.

I woke from my headache feeling passable even though I didn’t sleep the whole night.

We were out before the sun again, and saw the most wonderful sunrise of the trip. It’s starting to cloud up again which keeps the heat at bay too. The services were few and far between; we had a 7-mile walk next to a busy highway before we got to our first cafe. I wouldn’t have done it except for the instant coffee packets I brought from home. I usually make one each morning, even if it’s with hot tap water from the bathroom sink. Not ideal, but being uncaffinated until 10am is even more unideal. On top of the distance between services it was the weekend, so the communities were even sleepier than they normally are.

We had a delicious late breakfast when we entered Sigüeiro. I have been needing to eat more protein, well, both of us have, and the normal cafe fare of a croissant or cake or bread in the morning just isn’t cutting it. When we are able to shop at a grocery store we usually pick up yogurt, fruit, and cheese or olives…but today we ate ham and cheese on our croissants and toast. It made a difference, and THEN we bought yogurt and all the rest. I’m shopping at grocery stores more this year,  and it really helps even out my food diversity. Margo is usually a vegetarian and she said to get the calories and protein she has been eating more meat on this trip since she was a teenager!

So, we just motored along, sort of ready to be done. Not feeling well last night has added lead weights to my legs and the prospect of being finished tomorrow sounds like a siren song to our ears.

We came upon our hotel for the night from behind, and had to take some silly photos with the cardboard cutout of an old pilgrim.

We napped and then struggled to figure out where and how to eat dinner. Of course we hadn’t learned our lesson and went looking for food at 4pm right when the hotel restaurant closed until 8:30. Waiting wasn’t happening, so we called an expensive taxi to take us down the road to a big supermarket that had a deli so we could buy whatever we wanted. An even more expensive taxi took us back to the hotel where we got ready for bed and watched some strange women’s sports on TV, like handball and barefoot sand-soccer. Ouch.

Our mileage in my count above is fairly arbitrary. Margo has strava’d our walk each day and the count is sometimes several miles higher. My number is based on some random gpx file uploaded into caltopo to make my own map, and the Camino apps we are using have slightly different numbers too. The point is that we are walking, and it is adding up.

To help manage my ongoing mobility I brought my stick roller – something you may remember me bringing on my Appalachian Trail section hike in 2022 and beyond. I swear by that thing to ease my sore legs and calves and help prevent another bout of plantar fasciitis; it just feels good too.

Ok now, this morning was a bit rough, I didn’t sleep well and am surprised that day after day I keep going out here on minimal or poor sleep. This is where my body is running on muscle memory I guess…and lack of sleep can’t be good for the growing tumors (good for me I mean), but we only have a few days left, and then there is a full rest day ahead of me once we get back to London before the conference Margo and I are going to next week. I can sleep then maybe?

We left the posh comfort of our cabin on the lake for a chilly road walk up into some more trees. We were both a bit disturbed when we passed what looked like thousands of caged white furry animals…a mink farm? They were silent, which made it even spookier.

The way was flat(ish) once we reached the top, and there was even a small section of new trail. We saw folks on small machines yesterday building more new trail to help get the pilgrims off the roads, which is astonishing as this path is 1,000 years old. It just goes to show a trail is never done, no matter how old it is; there are always improvements that can be made.

We had a coffee stop mid morning, and kept on trucking south. At another break we had cold drinks and chatted with a couple of guys from the UK while we gazed at a sculpture garden across the street. A very impressive dinosaur figure silently roared at us from the field, and we enjoyed the easy chatting that comes from speaking the same language.

The afternoon got hot as we alternated walking between road shoulders and tree tunnel paths built just for us. It was early afternoon and we hadn’t had a proper meal yet when Margo identified a restaurant disguised as a lovely country home.

We saw a woman who beckoned us in, and entered the loveliest restaurant/hotel we had seen this entire time. We were put on a back patio looking out over a garden that one could imagine on Pinterest or Instagram. There were flowers on the table, and our waitress even spoke English and helped us determine what to eat from the impressive menu. We both enjoyed a chilled glass of white wine and Margo invited another UK hiker, Ella, to join us at our table. We had never spoken this much English to other travelers so far. The whole experience was a true delight. Somehow we managed to fit in some dessert to our four course meal, and we positively waddled out the gate an hour later.

We were happily groaning as we walked the last mile to our lodging for the night, but the hot sun turned my happy groan into a sleepy slog. So this is why the Spanish take their siestas in the late afternoon – because they spend a few hours eating their biggest meal of the day and nothing can happen again until evening when some of it is finally digested!

We checked into our rental apartment for the night and I immediately got horizontal on the couch, then my bed.

Sometime in here the headache that I’ve been suffering for months crept back in. So far on this trip it has just been a hint, and I’ve been able to keep it at bay with my usual ibuprofen and tylenol, but it was back with a vengeance, along with what felt like the start of a cold. Well, the feeling of normalcy was good while it lasted (pre cancer normalcy that is)… I took to bed after a short bath and watched a movie on my phone while I hugged my hot water bottle. My bed at home sounded pretty good, but I’ll have ample bed time in a few weeks when chemo starts again. Sigh.

But I’m not done yet!

We walked our miles so quick today that we were able to lounge about like we were on a lazy vacay. Margo is almost ready for her first 40-miler! Too bad we don’t have 40 miles left to walk.

There was a significant enough climb out of Betanzos and the sun was due to come back after our rainy day yesterday, that we wanted to walk the bulk of it in the dark, which meant a 7am start time.

We had a quick breakfast of yogurt and instant coffee in the hostel kitchen and stepped into the street right at 7am on the dot. We were becoming a well-oiled Camino machine!

And climb we did. Soon I took off my long-sleeved layer to properly grind up the hill. And by grind I mean move my very paltry muscles at a snail’s pace. I don’t think I’ve walked 10 miles in a day at all this year, and my cardio was nil. I had been too afraid of hurting myself worse, or was sidelined by pain, but here I was, half way around the world feeling the best I had since the Camino last year. Make it make sense! To my mind it obviously meant that walking makes everything better, maybe it even resolved the new cancer starting to grow again? And then I had to remind myself of all the hiking I did leading up to getting sick in 2024: backpacking a section of the PCT, backpacking the Lost Coast Trail, backpacking in Big Bend National Park and in the Gila Wilderness. No, I probably hadn’t discovered the cure to Stage 4 non-small cell lung cancer (or have I???), but I was feeling pretty good, so I can at least enjoy it while it lasts.

So up, up, up we went, until we were back in farm land where the houses were few and far between. We had planned ahead for few services on today’s stretch, but we were so used to the frequent cafes that at every cluster of houses we came to we slowed down sniffing the air for the scent of freshly baked goods and whispering “coffee, where are you? It’s ok to come out coffee, we won’t bite”  but no coffee showed up to appease our thirst.

I did, however, resolve to give Margo the trail name “Cat Eye” because she had a knack for spotting the shy furry beings that would dart out of our path to hide in a near-by bush. Many of these poor creatures looked like their tails had been in a great battle, for some were crimped up like they had been slammed in a car door, or had been sliced off altogether in an altercation with Edward the Scissorhands.

When we came to the one cafe stop of the day, we we so relieved. Both of us needed a good sit done along with our coffee and cake. The establishment gave a nod to its medieval lineage a had impressive middle ages art works and a suit of armor inside. The proprietor noticed the sword in my pack amd said, “My sword is bigger,” so of course I had to take a picture next to it to see who would win the “most fierce” award.

The walking after that was smooth and fast, and before we knew it we were at our destination for the night…a bouge ecocamp where we had rented out a whole cabin. It was new and luxurious. We each had our own rooms and bathrooms! It was early afternoon, so we basked in the sun and applied more temporary tattoos.

We had a girl dinner of olives, chips, hummus, cheese and fruit and I bemoaned our lack for foresight to pack out chocolate. The TV had Netflix too, so we settled in to watch a heartwarming period piece about a Polish surgeon who got amnesia and unknowingly preformed brain surgery on his long-lost daughter. It all ended well.

It rained during the night. It rained HARD, but we were cozy and warm inside. The morning was still dark when we got up…if it wasn’t for the 8am luggage transfer pick-up, we might have slept in a little longer, but alas, one doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to not drag a carryon roller bag through the cobblestone streets.

Once downstairs we realized there was a breakfast spread laid out, so partook of coco puffs, yogurt, and fruit. I was on my second cup of coffee when the proprietor came in and told us we had not reserved the meal. Woops! Not speaking adequate Spanish sometimes backfires. We paid her and got on our way.

Today would be one of our shorter days because the lodging options get stark up ahead – it looks to be getting mountainous, and the towns with bookable options that accept luggage are fewer and farther apart. The cheap pilgrim hostels (or auberges) don’t accept luggage, and we didn’t really want to sleep in bunk beds with 30 other people farting and snoring all night.

We walked out into the heavy fog and it was kind of delightful because it gave everything a misty medieval feel…the legit medieval streets and bridges and crumbled ruins helped the vibe.

Even the modern influences somehow became otherworldly.

We were in quiet and green hills, and the humidity ate everything alive. Crumbled buildings were covered in moist decay; we dodged snails and slugs on the road, and fruit lay rotting everywhere. This is quite a lush area, a lushness on the edge of rot.

Mid morning we walked up a hill to find an oasis of umbrellas and coolers. This was a spot for pilgrims to relax, and at the center was a cross and a large pile of stones.

I hadn’t known what the piles of stone meant on the Camino last year, and therefore had no stone to leave. This year I brought two for me, and one for my lovely and brave friend Stacey who is going through a difficult time. According to someone else’s words:

“This is one of the Camino’s oldest and most soulful traditions. Many pilgrims bring a stone from home – something small enough to fit in a pocket, heavy enough to remind you it’s there. It represents whatever you are carrying in your heart. A regret. A grief. A fear. All that burden you have been carrying around long before you ever planned your Camino. Then, when you reach a place that feels right, you put it down. You leave it there. You walk away without it.”

I placed Stacey’s stone on the pile inbued with her “fuck cancer” burden in order to lay it to rest. She would have been walking the Portuguese Way had she not been undergoing some intense treatment right now. It was a very emotional act for me.

Minutes later the sky opened and poured so hard that it must have been a cleansing. I felt it. For her, for me. All the people who had placed stones were remembered, all are a part of this place.

I walked on and turned a corner to see a full rainbow. There were even hints of a double rainbow. It was magical. It was such a beautiful moment, and even hours later now as I write it, I can barely see through the tears.

It is such a gift to be here.

We sought shelter from another downpour in the shadow of a church’s eves and caught glimpses of our next destination, Betanzos.

Walking down the steep streets into this ancient city felt like a true step back in time. It is magnificent. The only thing that detracted from the moment was my wet and squishy socks. Betanzos has one of the best preserved old quarters in the area and was once one of the seven provinces of the Kingdom of Galicia. I’m not sure what that means, but it is as impressive as the city we walked through.

This city is also known for its famous tortilla. No, not the flat, round thing you fill with beans and cheese, but a popular Spanish dish of egg and potato. The Betanzos version is runny in the center, almost creamy. We went to Mesón Café de Segundo for one, and was quite surprised when the juice came pouring out of it when I went to cut a slice. The added chorizo inside was a spectacular addition.

Our hostel was a short way away, and since we had such a big lunch, we basically ate fruit for dinner.

I want to come back to Betanzos.

After breakfasting on last night’s grocery haul in the lobby of the hotel, we took to the dark streets. Today’s walk would be primarily in neighborhoods and islands of green next to busy highways. Even though we could usually hear traffic, we couldn’t see it, and the effect was quite pleasant.

One small misplacement took us about a half mile out of the way…we really needed to pay attention to the Camino signs better…but soon we were back on track and marveling at the bright multi-colored houses we passed. Margo is a graphic designer too, so she would often stop to take photos of interesting textures, colors, or fonts. She also kept the Merlin bird ID app open and discovered lots of firsts to add to her bird list.

We talked and laughed and stolled through the streets, greeting the many cats we saw along the way, and taking several coffee breaks when the opportunity arose. The day was overcast and the walking easier, or maybe we were already trail hardened by this point.

Lunch was on an empty bench, and we rolled into our next stop in the mid afternoon with plenty of time to lay about in the room, do some washing up, and walking along the waterfront.

When we both got hungry we went looking for a restaurant, forgetting that food is hard to find at 6pm in Spain. Most restaurants don’t open until 8pm, so when we went to establishment after establishment, getting turned away we both became hangry and finally settled for an American themed joint. We didn’t come for American food, especially poorly translated versions of our recipes. We grumbled and ate lots of fried things, wishing we were eating steamed muscles and other seafood. We washed down the meal with TUMS.

Our hotel was in the middle of town and we slept with the window open for some semblance of air flow in the stuffy room – we inevitably woke a few times to trucks rumbling down the narrow streets in the middle of the night. Translation: we didn’t sleep that much.

Our roller bag needed to be down at reception by 8am, sunrise is later here, so we were out and walking in the dark; it gave off a certain familiarity though, because we had arrived in the dark too.

Before long we found a cafe for our first coffee and pastry stop, then continued as dawn revealed the large port city around us.

We would be walking next to the water for most of the day and Margo kept kicking herself for leaving her binoculars in London thinking it would be a weight savings. Turns out this birder would have gladly carried a pair because the chirping was almost constant.

This was her first long walk, and I went on and on about the joys of walking all day every day and being open to the flow of what the trail brings into your life. Today that was a row of big box stores. We went in one that looked like a giant dollar store in hope there was something that I could use as a hiking pole. At that point I would have settled for a broom or mop handle. As luck would have it, we scored actual poles, and then we found the Halloween section. Oh our imaginations soared with the possibilities of adding a special little something to our packs, and when I spied the sword selection it was all over. I found She-ra in the aisles of that store, and we topped off the costume with a sheet of temporary tattoos each. We resolved to add one a day until we were completely covered in tatts.

I also scored a hot water bottle for my neck and shoulders. Watch out world! Next up was a grocery store where we walked the rows picking up fruit, yogurt, veg, and cheese. This was a fantastic start to the walk.

When we finally resumed our amble along the path we came upon a guy selling Camino shells at a small table. He didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Spanish, but we managed to make the transaction. When I could tell he was making a comment about my crown and sword I pointed at my chest and said “superhero.” He laughed with understanding (I think) and posed for a photo with me. She-ra is out to play!

Then we walked, and walked some more. The sun was hot, so I broke out my sun umbrella and we both sweated in the hot and humid October sun.

We were wilting, and from the map I had made we knew we only had a short distance to the hotel, but as time passed the distance didn’t get any shorter. Turns out I had miscalculated where the stop was, and the true mileage was about 2 miles longer than either of us wanted to walk that day, so we ripped off the bandaid of needing to walk every mile and took a taxi the final distance. It would have been all uphill anyway and neither of us were too precious about a continuous footpath. It was all quite liberating.

The hotel had a restaurant that wouldn’t open that night for dinner, so we visited another grocery store for provisions. All in all it was a fabulous day.