Primativo to Frances

After a round of drinks outside on the albergue terrace we went inside for a communal dinner of seafood paella and wine. Delicious. We still didn’t feel like calling it quits so we went to the cantina next door for a few pitchers of sangria. Our usual group of six that have been together for days now was joined by William from Vancouver, who was actually a dual French national, which explained his accent. A rather rowdy time was had before we finally decided we needed sleep.

We had a light breakfast at the albergue then headed out. We soon passed the remnants of an old Roman bridge, where off course we had to pose. As always seems to be the case we went uphill first into a bit of a ridge where we saw more windmills off in the misty distance. After a bit the “soft” morning, as the Irish referred to it, turned to rain. Luckily a large tree covered us while we all pulled out pack covers and rain gear. Not more than a light rain fell so we kept on through farm after farm. It was a rather odiferous walk with all the cows and sheep and chickens. Again we had some sheep standing in the road but once they spotted us they turned tail and ran off. I’m amazed how close we walk next to people’s homes and farms, but it gives us good opportunities to greet locals.

The scenery isn’t as stunning as in the mountains but it’s more close to local life, seeing the differences in architecture. The horeos here have got a completely different look here in Galicia than Asturias, as do the roofs.

We stopped for a break at a rare bar along the way. The place looked very nice but we had Ms. Scowl-face as the bar tender. She seemed a bit put out that she had to put her phone and cigarette down to serve us. Luckily she’s not the norm. Usually we have delightful people that serve us and chat away.

Onward we went when right before our lunch stop Simon found a stand of bamboo from which he cut a walking stick, which he dubbed his “go-fast” stick. We sat for lunch at another local place where he cut the pole to his liking, while we were covered with flies, driving us all nuts. His stick seemed to work once we got going again as we just started to see a number of “100 k-ers” – those that only walk the last 100k into Santiago with a service carrying all their stuff. We sort of view them as cheaters. I know – I shouldn’t judge, but it’s hard not to, after all we’ve done. Simon’s goal was to pass all of them, which of course he did. Easier since he’s only 18 and has a long stride. 

We walked about 22 k into an albergue in the city of Melide, where the Primativo meets up with the Frances route. They’ll be may more pilgrims to contend with in the next two days into Santiago.

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