Day 5 - May 2, 2017 - Balugaes to Ponte Lima

Eucalyptus trees & calla lilies

From the farmland around Balugaes, we walk through beautiful forested areas with huge eucalyptus trees that provide shade for the heart-shaped white calla lilies.

From the hilly terrain forest, the road opens up as it passes by small farms bordered by old stone walls. As we march along a narrow stone road empty of traffic, a Canadian with a British accent catches us from behind. Short and lean and 30 something, he tells us he's from Nelson, B.C. so I comment on the beauty of the area. He responds by complaining about the lack of employment. He tells me he works in software development plus landscape gardening and something else. 

He goes on to say this is his second el Camino. On the French el Camino, he walked an average of 40 kilometres per day. Now, the Portuguese side, he's down to just over 30. He complains that his feet every day just like they did on the French el Camino. I don't understand.

Do you need new shoes? I ask.
No, the shoes are fine, he replies.
Maybe you need a rest, I say.

Calla Lilly

He doesn't respond.

I don't understand why he just didn’t slow down. I understand the el Camino to be a challenge and a spiritual journey for some. Certainly not a race or an instrument of torture. His interest in me is minimal and so our conversation ends. 

At the same time, I'm talking to the Canadian, Nicola's conversing with his British buddy from university, a friendship that goes back 20 years. Nicola tells the British dude about our kids, their education and jobs. He tells her about his previous el Camino, Donald Trump, Brexit and the German attitude toward rules. (They should be obeyed.) I don’t know how the conversation came up but he describes a conversation he'd had while travelling in Germany for work. One of his co-workers had wondered aloud why anyone bothered to pay for transit in Germany as there were no entry gates that required a ticket. The response from his German friends had been outrage. “Why wouldn’t you pay for it? It’s only one Euro. Besides, it’s the rule.” A rule that, in Canada, would be largely ignored. 

It doesn't take long for the Brit and Canadian to tire of our slow pace and leave us in their dust.

Scarecrow in field we passed

Along the same stretch, flat with farm fields bordered by stone walls, we catch up to an Irish dude we’d previously seen at a café on the outskirts of Barcela. He's tall and skinny, with glasses and a wide brimmed hat. Like other very fit people on the el Camino, I have difficulty determining his age. Usually they're older than they look. So, when he starts talking about a son, I'm guessing an adult. Who knows? Our conversation takes on the easy cadence of old friends however when he doesn't mention a wife, I don't ask.

Hay swathed by scythe

We do mention that our daughter’s fiancé has family in Dublin to which he replies, “North or south?” We don't know. Apparently, it matters. He says he hasn’t been on any walks in Ireland however he says there are some nice ones in the U.K. As we walk at the about same pace, I expect to see more of him on the camino.

As we approach Ponte de Lima, we are greeted by a fish run of all things. At least that’s what the Irish dude says it is. This is a series of steps over which the water flows. The fish must consider them rapids and so swim up them to spawn. Just past the fish run, we spot the beautiful medieval bridge of Ponte Lima from which the town gets its name. As we approach the city centre, the path turns to cobblestone road lines on both with large trees that create a tunnel of shade.  

Fish run Porto Lima

From a distance, the town could be a Lemax village like the ones people set up on a table or mantle at Christmas. Incredibly picturesque. From the downtown area, we walk across the old bridge to the albergue on the other side. It look nice but we have booked a hotel room and I'm looking forward to another good sleep. Beside the albergue is a pottery shop that sells merchandise made locally. It's pottery so we don't even consider a purchase. In the courtyard out front Nicola identifies a rosemary bush she says is “huge.” I can't even pretend astonishment so embellishes. They don’t grow anywhere near this size at home, she say. Oh yah, I reply. 

Tree lined path to Porto Lima

Nicola also comments on the plants growing on the side of the bridge. Tiny flowers sprout plants clinging to a life dependent on nutrients and moisture acquired from tiny cracks in the stone structure. Again, I try to be excited. Over the edge of the bridge, I watch teams of rowers practice their strokes, starts and stops on the slow-moving river. Most of them are school age, in K1 and K2 kayaks and C1 and C2 boats as well. 

We find a table at a café in the downtown square overlooking the river for drinks next to a group of young people finishing the last of many beers at the next table. We order sangrias from a surly, middle-aged, her large size hardly concealed under a red apron and floofy white blouse. Nicola takes one sip and remarks, “Best I’ve ever had.” They are very good. Always calculating her next cocktail, Nicola figures the reason for it's tastiness has to do with a good quality of wine.  

The sun is slipping over the horizon as we finish our drinks so Nicola checks the infamous Trip Advisor on my phone to determine the best rated restaurants in the area. She discovers one just up the street off the square where we're sitting. Despite the growing chill, we find a table outside where we enjoy a somewhat obstructed view of the river and I watch a local merchant throw bread for the pigeons and, I wonder why. 

We order a white vino verde Nicola says is supposed to be good however I'm not crazy about it. I admit I'm having a hard time developing a palate for these young wines. The tapas are excellent. By the time we're finished, the air is getting quite cold so we retreat inside for coffee. Besides a lone female at the table next to us, the tables outside were empty. Inside, we can only find seats at the bar where we're entertained watching the bartender mix a variety of cocktails. We admire photos of historical figures that hang on the wall beside us. 

Nicola with her Sangria

The restaurant combines ancient architecture with state of the art technology. Very modern light fixtures hang from the ceiling and ultra-cool appliances match the walls covered in deep red wallpaper and matching upholstery on the chairs. When the bartender delivers a wonderfully strong and tasty expresso, he includes a small glass of coffee liqueur. Nice touch.

After dinner, we wander the area with its 16^th century architecture all lit by indirect, subdued yellow lighting that accentuates the fantastic texture of the stone of the walls and sculptures hidden in niches. Nicola fell in love with the cut-out life size soldiers standing at attention in two ordered columns on the bank of the river. So, down we go to have a look. The two soldiers at the front and back of the columns  are actual manikins each holding a plastic spear. The soldiers are 2-D wooden cut-outs. Weird. I’m sure the kids like them along with the appreciators of the silly and nonsensical like Nicola.