Portomarin to Palas de Rei

Last night, with 90 km to go, there were a
few options: two more 45s, three 30s, three 25s and a nice 15 to finish . . . depending on albergues, of course. Having confirmed with Maureen in Andalusia that I would arrive Monday or Tuesday, I was also thinking about hitch-hiking down.

Waking early, ready for a longish day, I realised I had left the adaptor for the Tablet charger in the restaurant where I had sought food, drink, electricity and wifi . . . the journey wanted to slow down. Yesterday I had pushed myself and discovered what could be done on a long day's walking. It was more than enough.

I wandered round to the restaurant at eight, but no sign of life, had a coffee in a bar and returned to the albergue. A brief and uplifting conversation with Jean-Pierre, on his way out. German, with a French name, gypsy. Living free, wandering.
Henning, from Heidleberg, has a different perspective. He takes this talk of living free as a criticism of his more traditional life. It's not. Just different. I first met him in Najera and was surprised to see him here. He started in Pamplona, saying his fitness level was not up to crossing the Pyrenees. He said he had hitch-hiked some of the way. Previously a finance director, he finds himself out of work at 56. Difficult, especially when you have a family and a comfortable life.

Then a longer connection with Alexis, from Nantes. He is going the other way, heading towards Perpignan, some work to sustain his travels. The camino is revealing a parallel world, where people live a different life from the mainstream, and seem to enjoy it.

Finally, having retrieved the adaptor, I set off at 10.30, looking at a 25 km, 5 hour day.
There is high cloud and easy walking. After two and a half hours, I pass a restaurant, sit down outside an albergue, make jam sandwiches with the last of the bread, and enjoy a quick lunch. Tania, the hospitalera from Portomarin drives up, opens up. I fill my water bottle, wash my hands, say goodbye, head off up the trail. Looking behind I see last night's albergue residents, five Germans, two French come out of the restaurant and follow behind. The French two pass, but don't pull away, the Germans are close enough behind to be heard too. I feel a little crowded after all day yesterday and this morning walking alone. I prefer it that way. I find a wall to sit on, take a rest, let them go on.

After an hour, arriving at a bar, everyone is there, enjoying the sun. I stop for a coffee, sit with the French two, find out about their camino. Aude is a special education teacher, Theotim her student. He had the choice: prison or camino. Some enlightened body is funding this amazing opportunity. If it changes his life it will be money well spent.

And so to Palas de Rei. After two Galician municipal albergues, I look for an alternative. They are soulless. Designed by bureaucrats, with no sign of any input from pilgrims. The regional government is in charge. In other areas the municipal albergues are run by local councils, with voluntary hospitaleros.
With these the heating is on all night, but no blankets are available. The first had no kitchen, the next a kitchen but no pots, plates or anything to make it useful.

In the end, after only briefly considering a room in a pension for €30, I fall back on the municipal albergue. Same format, but this is older, the rooms smaller. The kitchen has two pots and three plates. Anselm, from Germany, invites me to the shared meal he is preparing with Henning, Aude and Theotim. Which is nice.

On the wall is information about ALSA buses. They run every day from Santiago, taking pilgrims home, or wherever they are going. Except those walking on or back, of course. The Granada one leaves at 16.25, so an overnight trip . . . Saturday or Sunday?