After the disaster of Day 3, today was my highpoint. The rain was off wandering around on some faraway hills and we had a nice clear misty morning after breakfast in Casa Rural Dona Maria. After the obligatory selfie with a horreo in the garden, we set off down the road through fields that looked like they were in New Jersey. I’ve never been to New Jersey so I don’t know why I would think this. Maybe it was the grey skies or the cabbage that looked like they were alien species.
The 24km to the hotel in Metanzos was essentially downhill so it should have been plain sailing. Because we got a taxi part of the way the previous day, we missed a local sculpture park which included dinosaurs and tractors. Instead, we pass an old stone church with a statue of San Paio (Pelayo) who was a child martyr back when the Islamic Berbers ruled Spain. He got his head chopped off and his statue was particularly gruesome looking. Rather than show you a picture of that, here is a bad photoshop of us taking a selfie at the tractor sculptures we never saw.
That morning we stopped for coffee and snacks at Bar O Cruceiro which a roadsign tells us is the last cafe before Sigueros, the next big town. The coffee is good and we plod on agreeing that we will all stop at every 5km marker today. Along the way, we see a turtle pond and a big red house. Neither is worth taking a photo of but we do meet a donkey and this is always worth a photo.
For the next few km we are hiking through scenery that is so agreeable that I cannot remember anything about it. We are still mostly on the road but this area is very quiet and we never meet cars. Tony and James are seriously impressed by the farm machinery sitting in wooden sheds along the way which look like they been cobbled together by clever Galician farmers. I’m impressed by the number of acorns everywhere and I munch on the little sour peaches that I stashed from Casa Rural the night before. Tina is beginning to realise that she is a lot more unrelaxed than she expected. This is due to the constant checking of google maps, time pressure to get to our accommodation before we run out of energy, the ongoing disruption of her food schedule and having to look at Ruth’s slightly off-kilter rucksack cover for too long.
Ruth has developed Burney foot syndrome, a little known condition which means that her feet are on fire aswell as being sore. I’m pretty sure sore feet on the Camino are hot feet but Ruth says it happens when she skis too and I’m not a nurse so what would I know. One of the lesser known symptoms of Burney Foot syndrome is the sufferer will share the details of it constantly. Rather than spend the next few km listening to Ruth swear that she is never going to do this again, myself and James protect ourselves by talking about work.
Tony has bombed on ahead again and instead of stopping at the agreed 5km marker outside a cafe he carries on. He met two girls coming out of the cafe and they convinced him not to stop as the owners were rude and the toilets were awful. This becomes Tina’s low point as she was planning on sitting down for lunch. Instead, we walk on while she nibbles on nuts and I pull out a day old ham roll which I found in the bottom of my pack. We follow the motorway, plodding along for 4 boring km until we arrive at the outskirts of Siguero. Before we get to the town centre, Ruth must swap her shoes once more for sandals.
The Way of St Jacques skirts the industrial zone of Siguero before making a quick dart through a scenic river park into the centre of the town. Walking into this Galician town is strange. We pass playgrounds with no children, outdoor swimming pools with no splashes and schools that are eerily empty. It is about 3pm. Everything appears to be shut. There is nobody about.
Luckily, Tony has scouted ahead and has found a part of the town where people seem to be going about their business normally. Shops are open. Food is being served. We are given menus with pictures and it looks like they have regular food like burgers, salads, pizzas. We eat like only Irish people can who are outside their comfort zone.
After the food, we have not far to go to our accommodation in Metanzo but it is another one of these places that is slightly off the Camino up ahead near the motorway. I have a fair idea where it is and I am pretty sure I know where to jump off the Camino and scoot into the unknown to get there. Ruth and Tony, emboldened by their full bellies, suspicious of my navigational abilities after yesterdays mishaps and perhaps realising that I have been winging it so far decide that they are going to follow the motorway. I don’t blame them. According to Ruth, her feet apparently are dangerously close to spontaneous combustion. Tony sees no point in walking further than necessary. I would go with them myself but the motorway ahead is busy and noisy. I have grown used to the quiet roads and laneways and despite the fact that the road turns into the unknown around every bend I am sure that I will arrive where I am supposed to. We agree to split up and they tramp off in the direction of the oncoming traffic while myself and the others turn off the main drag and follow a twisting laneway.
As we cross a bridge over the motorway I have some misgivings. Down below, the road is wide open and not as busy as it was when we left Siguero. Our chosen road certainly looks quiet but it appears to be taking us on another loop. Before I can wonder any more, Ruth and Tony appear on the bridge calling us. Apparently, they were not allowed walk along the motorway and had to double back to catch up with us. Only that my time on the Camino has blessed me with an incredible measure of humility I did not laugh at them. But it was damn close.
When the time came to jump off the Camino we did so and were immediately stopped by a helpful Galician family who pulled up in a car looking like they were the Lost Pilgrim Patrol. They were obviously worried to see us walking along with rucksacks in the opposite direction of the Camino and tried to direct us back the way we had come. Looking back I can see that this was my own special Camino moment. Once again, I had found myself turning away from a well-trodden path and once again I met well-meaning people trying to put me back on track. Hotel, I said to them and pointed ahead. Ah, they said and drove off. I just had this feeling that everything was going to be alright. We carried on and the road brought us down along the motorway once again until we found an underpass which let us cross to the other side. We passed a number of dodgy-looking buildings before we eventually found the empty hotel with two staff members waiting for us to arrive.
Next up, the final stretch to Santiago.
