Santiago!

 The final day of riding was both one of the nicest, and one of the ugliest.  Nicest because from the hotel we headed north along rural roads that we absolutely empty of traffic.  We knew from the ride profile that we would be climbing for about 5 kilometers almost right away.  And climb we did through forested mountain sides that were lovely to be travelling along.  As we reached the top of our ride the road turned into the trees.  I think it was a local park, reservation - similar to a undeveloped provincial park in Alberta.  The road was more of a cart path.  The morning was cooler and a little more humid that we'd been experiencing, but the smell of the forest, the pine needles littering the path and the quiet made for lovely travelling.  The caveat was the always present uncertainty that the path would actually lead us where we wanted to go.  RidewithGPS indicated it would after about 3 kilometers.  We wound around turning right, then left, then slight left - bending north.  The GPS on the phone announced a turn in 500 meters.  As we approached we could see we would leave the gravel path behind.  The road was once again a lovely country lane passing from small village to small village, past small fields with a couple of cattle, sheep and the occasional barking dog.  In 99 percent of the cases dogs along the way are well restrained by fences and or leashes from coming onto the road.  On only one of our days - perhaps from Alvaiazere to Condeixa did Sandy have to deal with a small dog chasing her ankles.

For much of the first 1/2 of the 40 kilometers or so we would ride to get to Santiago we followed the country road.  We saw two or three cars and few people.  The road followed the top of the range that we'd climbed to from the hotel rolling up and down along the way.  At about the 16 kilometer mark we began to descend.  Before long we were turning onto the highway in preparation for a river that we were approaching.  The GPS led us to a small bypass that was ideal for bikes.  A couple of yellow arrows told us that we were on a Camino route - although even now I'm uncertain which one we were on.  The Camino Portuguese was about 10 kilometers or so to the west.  The GPS had indicated it would have, overall, more climbing than the route we followed.  The Camino Francais and Camino Norte are north.  They join east of Santiago entering together on it's eastern edge.  The Camino that comes out of Spain following the Portuguese border some of the way was east of where we were although like us, approaching Santiago from the south.  Either way, it was a nice reminder that we were getting closer to our destination.

After crossing the river we paused for a coffee where the path we'd follow turned away from the highway.  We knew there was some more climbing ahead - and hoped that the 400 meters or so that we had left would be relatively gentle - not unlike the rolling hills we'd passed along earlier in the morning.  Initially, it seemed it wasn't so bad.  The numbers maxed out at about 7 or 8 percent over the first little while.  But as we approached Santiago the hills got steeper, and a little more undulating.  By the time we reached the last two climbs that the GPS counted as climbs \

The GPS is notoriously inaccurate when it comes to climbs and descents - it tells us relatively accurately the overall numbers but seems to have a mind of it's own about what constitutes a climb or not.   Different apps report different results.  On the computer the route may show four climbs and four descents; but on the Garmin it will begin by telling us we are on slope 1/7 with x number of meters to climb as well as the distance the climb covers.  Sometimes, in the middle of a climb, there will be a descent and yet the Garmin said there are 2 kilometers of climbing yet to go.  The scale is difficult to see for these 60 year old eyes (and depending on the lighting, difficult to read).  Not infrequently will the Garmin inform us that the climb is complete as we look at what seems to be an endless rise in front of us.  Sandy will inform me that I, or the Garmin, lied; complain about the hill, and soldier forward.

This became a problem on hills 5/7, 6/7 and 7/7 as we came into Santiago.  Hill 5/7 showed to be about 4 kilometers long with an average slope of about 4 percent.  It was, in fact, a rise of about a kilometer that went from about 4 to 8 percent, then a descent of 2 kilometers, followed by a city road at about 13 percent...whatever it was, it was ugly.  We were both tired and Sandy was threatening once again to quit.  Hill 6/7 followed shortly after.  We'd been riding near the freeway on a service road, switching from one side to the other on what was a relatively gentle undulation.  We were noting the playgrounds, soccer pitches and basketball courts built on highway overpasses - a tunnel for the cars below - and a playground for the adults and children above when the road descended quite sharply.  The GPS indicated we would go left at the bottom, under the highway, and right onto the service road.  As we neared the right turn the GPS indicated we were hitting the next climb.  The slope it showed was black, which I've come to learn is over 15 percent.  We'd turn into the hill on the left, and again as we turned right after passing under the highway.  I took the cowards way out on this one, warned Sandy that we were in for a rough climb and pedaled grateful for the pedal assist on my bike.  Sandy wasn't grateful...the turns were too much and she needed to walk up the hill.  We knew we were getting close.  The GPS suggested one more climb - the reality was a little different; in the city the climbs didn't register with the GPS.  There wasn't much we could do.  The final climb of the day we both walked while Sandy suggested that the problem was I could have gone a different direction...I really don't know whether we had any option or not - in the middle of Santiago it's near impossible to know which direction you're moving.  At the top of the climb we found ourselves blocked by a school full of children being released for the day.  The GPS indicated we needed to go left.  The road was full of cars honking, buses, vans, taxis.  We arrived at what seemed to be the busiest time of the day.  Our hotel was to the right - the end of the Camino involved riding deeper into the city and finding our way to the Cathedral.  There was no point in riding.  The sidewalk too narrow and full of pedestrians, the road full of all shapes of vehicles going in what seemed to be improbable directions.  We turned left and walked our bikes a little down the road and I realized that it was, in fact, the ring road around the old city where cars are have limited access.  It made more sense to walk into the old city alongside the many other tourists and pilgrims, dodging the salespeople trying to entice us to lunch in a restaurant, or to looks at souvenirs in the gift shops...there would be time for that.  We walked in a circle.  We grew frustrated with Google's lack of clarity in the small alleys of the old city.  BUT...we eventually found our way to the front of the Cathedral where it seemed hundreds of other pilgrims, coming from other directions were also completing their Caminos.  We were done!  A picture!  And now it was time to go to the hotel.  Time to shower and change and then begin to explore the city in new ways.

Jeff Rock and I had kept in touch.  Jeff, who seems to have trouble staying still for long, had taken a side trip on the Camino Espirituel - following the route that legend would have it brought the remains of St. James to this part of the world.  His plans, ever changing, made it difficult to know if we'd connect again.  The night before I'd received an email from him.  He hoped to arrive in Santiago later on Tuesday - did we want to have dinner?  After a bit of rearranging, our plans for Tuesday were a Tapas tour of Santiago, we were going to be able to connect.  We set a meeting time for 6 pm at the Cathedral with Jeff to let us know if it needed to change - he had a significant distance to hike to make Santiago that evening.  As Sandy and I enjoyed a drink at a nearby cafe an email came telling me he was in the city and 6 would work.  After returning to the hotel for a bit of rest we made it to the Cathedral and enjoyed the evening celebrating our success at completing our Caminos.

Jeff, always planning, was leaving for another part of the Camino on Wednesday.  He'd hike to Finisterre and Muxia before returning to make his way to Madrid this weekend.  Sandy and I will bus to Lisbon on Friday after a couple of days recovering, resting and preparing for the trip home.  We arranged to meet Wednesday morning to attend the pilgrim's mass at the Cathedral and enjoy one last coffee together before following our separate paths back to Canada.

It's been a special part of this trip travelling the Camino separately and yet together with Jeff.  It's made me much more aware of how our individual journeys are so, well, individual.  His walking 30-40 kilometers a day - often doing twice the distance of other pilgrims while we cycled.  I was skeptical in Lisbon of Jeff's ability to make Santiago without skipping important parts of the route - having cycled from Coimbra to Porto while he took the bus and jumped ahead doing so allowed him to follow paths we may never see - along the Camino Espiritual, for example.  By walking and staying in auberge's Jeff encountered and met more pilgrims along the way than Sandy and I.  Different experiences, different stories to tell and to share.  It's been nice for us to connect again ten years after his ordination and move to Red Deer to serve at Gaetz...good to share memories and make new ones along the way.

Day 16 - Redondela to Arcade...well, and then Caldas de Reis

 This day began with rain.  It was wet for the first time on our Camino.  Out came the rainwear we'd carried with us from Edmonton before we shipped out suitcases to our next stop.  Breakfast was in a cafeteria about a block from the hotel - actually more of a bakery.  It was full with pilgrims beginning their day.  And breakfast here consisted of toast, coffee and orange juice - not great options for someone who is suppose to manage without gluten.  I've maybe overdone my cheating a bit too much and have been struggling with an unsettled stomach since Vila Praia de Ancora - although I'm not sure if it's gluten, or sea food, or eggs and bacon at breakfast cooked in Olive oil.  Either way, the diet has been good as I was down five kilograms in Vila Praia and the 20 Euros we spent on candy in Redondela has been a treat.

We'd crashed at about 8 pm the evening before.  We had two rooms and beds for four in the apartment hotel where we stayed in Redondela.  It was luxurious to have the space even though it was only for one night.  An opportunity to make sure that everything that needed to be charged was charged.  We knew that the coming couple of days held some substantial hills.  From Porto we'd been following the coast and normally between sea level and 50 meters of altitude.  We'd cross a couple of mountain ranges to reach Santiago where the altitude is around 250-300 meters above sea level.  Our days would have between 700 and 1000 meters of climbing and I knew Sandy was resigned to dealing with the hills.  Our of the gate at Redondela we'd climb to about 250 meters before returning to seaside in Arcade then follow the inlet to Pontevedra before climbing towards Caldas de Reis.  At least that was the plan.

The climb from Redondela was painful.  About 5 kilometers averaging around 4 percent.  I've learned that if the average is 4 percent in Portugal or Spain it's likely the hill will top out with slopes of around 13-15 %.  We'd adopted a system that I'd move ahead to a place where a stop for water or to catch breath was an option.  Sandy would swear her way up the hill and then we'd enjoy the downhill that inevitably followed.  We were off to a strong start on this particular day despite the wet weather.  We climbed up and coasted down coming to Arcade on the other side of the mountain.  Arcade was lovely and we'd joined the Camino route in a way that we hadn't really done often this trip.  It was full of pilgrims.  We didn't run into the Americans from the pizza place in Redondela, but there was a group of about 20 German roofers walking in traditional garb - black outfits with white shirts.  The outfits were corduroy and no doubt warm.  But they were a sight to behold.  We stopped to take pictures of a Roman bridge where another pilgrim stood in front of Sandy admiring the bridge unaware of the picture being shot behind her. 

 We were passing groups of pilgrims bunched along the road when...snap...Sandy's bike came to a sudden halt.  The drop post/ hanger that was straightened way back in Tomar broke completely.  The chain twisted in the derailleur and the bike was not going any where fast.  A consultation with google and there appeared to be a bike shop about 1/2 a miles away.  We unloaded the pannier from Sandy's bike and draped it over my pannier.  Sandy pushed the bike holding the rear wheel off the ground and we turned around to find the bike store.

It was relatively slow going but we were making progress in the right direction and hoping that a quick solution could be found.  A spanish gentleman caught up to us from behind and acknowledged our plight telling us he didn't speak any English.  Nonetheless he spoke enough to help.  He called the bike shop to discover that, being a Monday, they were closed - at least I think it was a Monday that was the issue; it might be the store was just...closed.  Our options then were to return to Redondela (how?) or move forward to Pontevedra - again, how?  Either way we needed to keep moving in the direction of the bike shop.  The train station was in the same area of town and we could investigate the issue of the where we needed to go, and how to get there.  On to the highway and across the bridge - this one considerably busy with traffic that the Roman bridge we'd just passed.  Before that happened though the kind gentleman had an inspiration.  Taking us to his home he pulled out a tool kit and we removed the derailleur from the bike - Sandy could now push, even coast, the bike along.  In town we got to the train station where, as I purchased tickets for the train on the internet Sandy and a woman from the U.S. got to visiting.  The woman was hosting a tour of older single women travelling the Camino.  One of those, walk a bit, bus a bit, and get to know a new part of the world.  The commiserated over the challenges of travelling as a single woman, dealing with men (in general), and age - the rules for this woman's groups were single woman over 60 on her tours - men and children created problems.  I got the tickets for Sandy and I praying that there would be room on the train for the bikes.  It was an eight minute trip from Arcade to Pontevedra and then we'd figure out what they tarnation was going to happen from there.

Whatsapp has been a great help dealing with the bike issues we've faced this trip.  We've messaged back and forth with the bike company and found solutions along the way.  They've been gracious in the face of my anxiety wondering what might happen next.  In Pontevedra we were told a replacement bike would be brought to us - although the bike that was coming did not have a pannier rack - could we combine our belongings?  We managed and Sandy discovered the weight that I'd been carrying in my panniers along the way.  

The bike arrived and we set off to Caldas de Reis having jumped about 10 kilometers up our route on the train.  The pathway that followed was lovely.  Running parallel to the train tracks through the woods it was quiet and pastoral.  There were a few other pilgrims along the way and we passed with wishes of Buen Camino to and from them.

With about 8 kilometers to Caldas de Rei our route turned east and we began to climb.  I'd relied on the RidewithGPS app to plan our route and it had done a decent job of finding a relatively direct track.  I played around a bit to ensure our climbs were at least equivalent, if not less than other less direct routes.  The two things that I didn't know were that the hotels address and it's actual location were about 2 kilometers apart; and that we were cutting cross country to get there.  RidewithGPS showed that the roads were paved - another reassuring sign.  But, they weren't!  We climbed a significant mountain - perhaps more significant than the one we'd gone over from Redondela to Arcade; passing farms and barnyards with a few cows, sheep and other animals.  At the top - at least I hoped it was the top; Sandy was less optimistic we turned passed a farm and the road changed from pavement to rough gravel.  There was really no option but to keep going.  The road became rougher and became apparent that it was actually a logging road.  For about four kilometers we moved along the road dealing with the groves and leaves and broken branches littering the ground.  Finally, an intersection and we were back to pavement.  A downhill and we were coming close to the hotel.  The GPS guided us into a side road, around a corner and told us we'd come to the end of our route.  The house beside the road was comfortable looking enough - a bed and breakfast, perhaps?  A consultation with google maps to understand and we realized we had some more riding to go.  It wasn't bad - couple miles of highway with little traffic, and downhill to boot.  We got to the gate of the hotel about 4 pm; only about an hour and a half off our preconceived schedule.  The hotel was something else.

In a remote spot, alongside a small river, the hotel was in another recarnation an old flour mill.  There was some irony, or something, to this.  On our previous Camino journey, on our penultimate day of the trip, we'd travelled cross country over farmer's fields to find ourselves at a similar inn east of Santiago.  This time the inn was more crowded - in 2019 we'd been one of two guests at the inn.  In 2022 there were several groups of travelers staying.  The sign on the gate indicated the restaurant had been listed in the Michelin guide in 2018.  The setting alongside the river with landscaping around rock outcrops was simply lovely.  The kitchen was closed until dinner, but they managed to rustle up some snacks and a drink - a bottle of white wine, and some potato chips would have to suffice for the first food I'd eaten since breakfast - Sandy had eaten a sandwich while waiting for the bike.

Day 15 - Vigo and Redondela

 Technically, it's Day 14, 15 and 16 of cycling but I counted the rest day in Baiona so my numbers are off.  

WE'RE IN SANTIAGO!  The final three days of riding were a major challenge.  Sandy, whose approach to climbing hills, is to call down the curses of heaven upon them - I think her idea of hell might be an assignment levelling ALL the mountains of the Iberian Peninsula using a bobcat - faced some ugly riding as Santiago came closer.  Our biggest day of climbing was our last.  Depending on which system we used to measure it was somewhere between 780 and 950 meters.  The slopes reached up to 16 percent and for a couple of stretches we were riding on logging road.  On the other hand, some of the riding was the nicest that we experienced on the whole trip - very quiet roads; for the first 30 kilometers between Caldas de Reis and Santiago we saw two cars. (More about that later)

We left Baiona for Redondela on Sunday.  The first 10 kilometers was following bike paths around the bay that holds Baiona's harbour.  It was a little cooler because of our proximity to the ocean and the skies were a little cloudier than most of our trip.  Yet, from our departure to the turn North to Vigo we could catch glimpses of the fort where we had spent the weekend, and say "good bye" to the ocean as we followed the inlet towards the city of Vigo.  As we turned north we started to follow the regional highway from Baiona towards Vigo.  It was Sunday, so we could only assume that the traffic was lighter because of it.  Yet, I would still call it moderate.   Sandy's take was that this part of the ride was uninspiring and I generally have to agree with her.  It was simply the way we had to go from A-B.  The Camino path was closer to the water, and may have been prettier; but I knew from Camino Forums that as we got to Vigo the path became more industrial and wasn't excited about dealing with that type of traffic.

Vigo was a whole new experience.  The largest port city on the Atlantic Coast of Spain it's a lot like Edmonton - albeit hillier.  It had a somewhat developed system of bicycle lanes that seemed to start and end in the most inconvienent places.  My plan had developed using heat maps of the city to follow the most popular cycling routes from south to north; which worked to a degree.  For a kilometer or two we followed a river valley trail system; not as developed as Edmonton with gravel instead of paved paths.  It was away from the traffic - which worked nicely.  But like all good things that come to an end the trail we were on became an alleyway through apartment buildings then ended altogether.  Back to google and we developed a plan to follow the heat maps into the commercial areas of the city.  We turned a corner onto what looked like a nice road to cycle - a small but usable shoulder - and a sign that I read permitting cyclists and pedestrians.  Only the sign wasn't permitting them, it was prohibiting them.  We road forward anyway.  After all the sign didn't have a bar across the prohibited forms of transportation.  In Spain they let you know what isn't allowed using a sign with a red cycle around the banned forms of transportation - as I said, without the bar across it.  After about 500 meters we realized we were cycling on Vigo's equivalent of the Whitemud Freeway.  The narrow shoulder was very narrow.  Luckily we didn't encounter any police, and no one honked madly at us - in fact, most drivers moved over around us.  We got off at the first exit which was, conveniently, a significant distance through the city.  Finding our way to the main road which would become our road to follow from Vigo to Redondela we found another bike path.  Sandy rode like a true Albertan - if there wasn't a visible reason to stop at a red cycling light, she didn't.  I tried to keep up and prayed that the drivers would be forgiving - the road was not quiet.  Stores, restaurants, patios - a little like riding along Whyte or Jasper Avenues at their busiest.  We made it.  Over the top of a ridge the city opened to a view of a suspension bridge over the inlet and the road moved downhill above the inlet.  The traffic was still moderate as the road we were on fed into the nearby freeway at several spots.  We could see the platforms harvesting Mussels in the bay.  It was overcast and cooler - rain was forecast for Sunday night and Monday morning - and again the riding was not particularly inspiring but getting us towards our destination for the night.

That destination, Redondela, is where several different Camino routes come together.  It was transparently so as soon as we turned through the roundabout at the edge of the small community.  A bedroom community to Vigo it preserved some of it's history in ways we didn't get to see in Vigo.  The roundabout led to a small square beside an old monastery.  The monastery was surrounded by fencing, but still in some use as we could see people inside.  Workers, Religious folk?  It wasn't clear.  Our hotel was around the next corner and busy with pilgrims coming and going.  We settled into our room, showered and went in search of some food and drink.

Returning to the square we found a table in the midst of several outside a cafe/pizza joint/bar - it seemed to be a little of all of them.  We'd just settled into our seats when a larger group of American pilgrims pulled into the table next to ours.  It felt like we didn't exist all of a sudden.  They arranged the chairs around the table crowding the table we were at and began discussing their trip, ordering food and drinks and visiting with one another.  I learned more about them in about 1/2 hour of evesdropping - is it evesdropping if you don't have to work to listen? - than almost all the other pilgrims we encountered along the way.  This group was from the Washington, DC/Alexandria, Virginia region.  There were a number of older women (I know they were over 60 after a long conversation discussing a Danish gentleman who stopped to speak with the group for a few minutes.  They speculated about his age for awhile after he left and there were several comments about wanting to be 60 again as they walked...) Oh, the irony.  Turns out their "walking" was supported by a bus.  The driver would drop them off and take pick them up along the way.  They'd be taken from hotel to hotel walking whatever was comfortable for each of them on any given day.  It left me thinking about the ways in which the Camino is for each person a very different experience - to do "the Camino" means about as many things as the 400,000 people a year that walk it can conceive.

It took about an hour but the pizza we'd ordered shortly after the Americans sat down arrived.  It was now about 3:30 in the afternoon.  The pizza was an Octopus pizza with a number of different cheeses, a generous covering of Olive oil and "fluffy" dough.  It was quite good so the wait for it to arrive amid language confusion over whether the kitchen was open or closed became, mostly, a thing of the past.

It was time for Candy.  The problem was that the Candy store didn't actually open until 5 pm.  Spain has a rythym that is all it's own.  Stores generally open from 10-2 or 3; close until 5 or 5:30, reopen for a couple hours and then close.  Restaurants that open early are open at 7 or 7:30 - most wait until 8 pm.  We know this from our previous Camino but it takes some getting used to.  Again and again our plans are foiled by these schedules.  Ours, at home, is to eat breakfast by 8 am, work through the day, dinner around 5 pm, and then evening activities - in bed around 10 and repeat the next day.  In Spain that routine does NOT work.  Breakfast opens around 8 - just when our suitcases need to be at the front desk for pickup and transfer to the next hotel.  After breakfast we read, write emails until 10/10:30/11 before getting on the road.  Our rides have lasted 2-3 hours each day arriving at the next hotel around 2:30/3 pm.  Kitchens are closing down for the afternoon - if we're lucky a lunch might be possible (We can usually find a drink)...showering, a bit of sight-seeing, some relaxation after the ride will get us to 6:30 or 7 but waiting to 8 for dinner tests our patience.  We're learning to adapt but a large dinner at 8 with wine tends to create chaos when you want to be asleep at 10...I'm not completely convinced I've ever adjusted my system as most days I'm wide awake at 4 am.  It will be good to be home.

Day 12-13-14: There are more pilgrims now - on to Esposende, Vila Praia de Ancora, and Baiona

 I expected that leaving Porto would be anxiety producing beyond most of the previous departures from urban areas.  Porto is a busy city.  Lots of tourists both in Porto itself, but also because it is the gateway into the wine region of the Duoro valley.  The roads are often tied up with traffic as drivers compete with pedestrians for space on narrow roadways built before the world was created (it seems).  To top it off our hotel was built above the bus station taking passengers to the rest of Portugal - hourly buses to Lisbon; buses going north, east, west, south and all directions in between.  We've generally found that the buses in Portugal are more reliable than the trains and that is saying quite a bit in Europe.  Anyway, after breakfast we decided to head on our way at around 9:30 am - hoping to catch a break after rush hour and before the majority of businesses opened later in the morning.  We had a fair distance to travel.  It would be flatter, easier riding but one of the longest days of cycling - close to 60 kilometers to Esposende, a place we knew nothing about.  As it turned out we had nothing to worry about.  Somehow I'd managed to get the route selection right.  A couple of smaller one way streets with little traffic led us to a wide, three lane boulevard across the city.  There was relatively little traffic, and a separated bikelane down the middle of the boulevard separating eastbound and westbound traffic.  The bikelane had a wide sideway beside it for pedestrians and joggers, mothers with baby carriages, fathers walking with toddlers.  We found ourselves wondering if we'd landed on a vacation day.  Above us planes approached the international airport at Porto every few minutes.  The ten kilometers, or so, across town took us to a large city park and our route turned through the edge of the park to the ocean.  We had, finally, reached the Atlantic coast.  Riding to Esponsende was some of the easiest riding we've had.  The sidewalks along the road were wide and designed for pedestrians, cyclists, runners, families and just about any non-motorized form of transportation you could imagine.  It was, relatively, flat the only slopes we needed to contend with were around sand dunes and rivers where the sidewalks and bike paths joined roads to traverse the waterways.  It seemed as if everyone was out enjoying the day.  We really have experienced great weather throughout the trip and it has cooled somewhat north of Porto.

Along the Atlantic coast of Portugal, north of Porto, there seems to run and endless wooden walkway.  Closer to Porto it is restricted to pedestrians only but as we moved away from the city the signs shifted and we could ride the bikes along the boardwalk.  There were a few spots where we reached small villages and we rode through narrow cobbled streets.  There were also a few moments when we needed, for one reason or another to travel on the regional highway going north.  Such was the case as we came to Esposende where our hotel took us off the highway to a georgeous beach front hotel/resort for our first night.  The hotel was a busy place.  The World Sea Kayaking Championships were being hosted by the hotel.  Australians, Canadians, Europeans from Norway to Spain, South Africans and others were arriving to compete over the next couple of days in 20 kilometer races along the coast.  We spent the afternoon watching them prepare and practice.  The kayaks that are used are open designed for the races to recover quickly if they are overturned during the race.  They are sleek, long machines and the racers are impressive to watch as the glide over the water.  The would be racing, I think, from a city north of Esposende with the finish line of the race at the hotel.  Unfortunately, our itinerary meant that we couldn't stay and watch but we did enjoy the expertise that we saw from the beach.

One of the most notable experiences occurred on this leg of the journey.  We'd come across one of the rivers along the route just north of Porto.  We were following the bike path where we would in most instances greet cyclists riding in the other direction - a wave, a shout of Bom Dia, and acknowledgement.  We were seeing more pilgrims along the way.  It was obvious, to us, that most of the pilgrims on the Portuguese Camino began their route in Porto simply by the significant rise in the number that we encountered.  People carrying backpacks with scallop shells hanging off them.  Singles, pairs, small groups of people walking with purpose northwards.  As we came around a bend in the bikepath another cyclist came flying towards us - coming from the same direction as we were travelling.  I was approximately 50 yards behind Sandy when I realized he was shouting for her attention.  It turned out that he'd mistaken us for another couple he'd seen that day looking for the interior route of the pilgrimage.  They, like us, were cycling.  The interior route moves inland north of Porto.  We'd made the decision early on to follow the coastal route and were on the right path.  The gentleman who stopped us was worried it was the earlier couple he'd encountered and he was anxious to help point us in the right direction.  He had been a pilgrim 20 years earlier and once we'd completed clarifying our intentions had a delightful conversation about our travels, about our love of Portugal, and about the Camino.

From Esponsende we moved north the next day towards Vila Praia de Ancora.  This ride, like the day prior, was relatively easy - flat, following the coast which seems to be an endless line of fine, beautiful Sandy beaches.  We could follow the boardwalk when it was there - although that created challenges in one spot where the sand had blown over the board and covered them to a depth of about 3 feet.  Pushing the e-bike through the sand was good exercise, but I would have prefered to been pushing the pedals rather than walking beside it my feet slipping in the sand.  The scenery continued to be awesome and with most of the local pedestrians behind us we encountered more pilgrims along the way.  The highway was quieter when we had to follow it which meant that the riding was also less stressful.  We came to the small town where we would be spending the night after passing through several towns along the way.  Vila Praia de Ancora is at the mouth of a river.  Across the mouth of the river is a long, wide sandy beach.  Once settled in the hotel we found our way to the waterfront and enjoyed a driink watching the surfers and others enjoying the water.  The Atlantic is not warm water in this part of the world but some of the best surfing is to be found along the Portuguese coast.  In towns north of Lisbon can be found some of the largest waves in the world and there is a well developed culture of surfers moving up and down the coast "chasing the waves."  We removed our shoes and walked along the beach - yes, I did actually put my feet into the water. Dinner was in a beach front restaurant where we shared a platter of fresh seafood with Potatoes and vegetables.  Grilled Bass, Squid, Shrimp, Salmon, Halibut and Cod - before and after pictures are below.

Before

After - it was too much...

OK, someone forgot to mention the Roman road...

but the bulk of the road was like this

The hotel we stayed in was a beautiful older building in the historic part of town a couple of blocks off the beach.  Unfortunately our room was on the first floor above the main entrance.  The narrow roadway in front was busy with a steady stream of traffic.  Our preference to keep the windows open was foiled by the stream of noise coming into them.  Through the night we were kept awake as drivers seemed to race along the cobbled road in front.  A German bus tour staying at the hotel returned from a late dinner and their voices echoed off the buildings into our room.  Closing the windows resulted in becoming too warm, and the air conditioner clicked at us when running - it was not a good nights sleep.

Day three from Porto would be our final day of riding before another rest day.  We were moving out of Portugal and into Spain by way of a ferry crossing over the Tui River.  It was about 10 kilometers north of Vila Praia de Ancora.  Again the riding was good.  The pathways of the previous couple of days continued and wide sidewalks along the highway provided shared lanes for a decent part of the way.  The busy traffic continued and proved a reminder that Portugal has it's own way of transportation.  When we came to the ferry terminal we realized that the ferry was not operating.  The gentleman inside the building informed us that we could cross on the water taxi - a considerably smaller boat.  We wondered how the bikes would be managed - only nine passengers could cross in one go.  A group had left just as we arrived, and others were waiting - we settled in to have coffee and enjoy the wait.  Before long we were being summoned.  The boat was arriving, so we moved to the "dock" - a slab of concrete beside the inoperable ferry with two levels and a larger drop between them.  Our bikes were lifted, with the assistance of other pilgrims down the drop, and then loaded onto the boat leaning against the engine with the front wheel balanced on the top edge of the gunnels, and the back wheels settled into the bottom of the boat.  A large edge along the gunnels provided our seats for those of us brave enough to sit up - several of the pilgrims sank to sit on the bottom of the boat while we crossed the channel.  On the other side, a concrete pier with several large steps up to the ground became our landing spot in Spain.  The driver of the boat carried our bikes for us to the top of the steps and we loaded our panniers onto them.  We had a choice to make.  The Camino route traveled south from our location around a point of land before turning north.  Our alternative, the route that we took, climbed over the point to a city on the other side of the peninsula.  We climbed up the hill which turned out to be considerably smaller than we expected and rode down into the small city that was before us.  Our route through the city, once again, proved perplexing.  Our Garmin wanted us to turn right but showed our path lying straight ahead.  The problem was the intersection where right or left turns were the only option.  The Garmin, I suppose, wanted the immediate right turn to be followed with a left up what looked on the ground to be a street that came to a dead end.  We consulted the maps and turned to the left following a narrow city road around a large bend through the city.  As the bend came to an end the road turned to the left and we were following the highway north.

That's Spain - the mountain

We could tell we had moved from Portugal to Spain  The road was much quieter and although there was some traffic there were constant signs reminding drivers to give a meter and a half when passing cyclists.  Along the left hand side of the road a large lane painted yellow marked a bike path and shared use lane.  The Camino rose and fell from that path to the ocean front west of the highway.  The maps had indicated a difference of some 500 meters of climbing between the road that we were taking and the Camino route proper.  The difference was the result of the regular climbs and drops in the Camino path as it would climb up to the road before dropping to the ocean through a number of small villages.  We were happy following the road, and the shared use path.  The traffic less intimidating and the road undulated gently as it followed the contours of the land.  After another 30 kilometers or so we approached our destination for the next couple of nights.  This would be one of the highlights of the journey.  We are staying in a hotel built in an old fort on a point of land guarding the harbour at Baiona.  Baiona's claim to fame is that it is the location that news arrived in Europe of Columbus' discovery of the Americas.  The Pinta returned to Europe landing at Baiona to share the news.  The fort where we are staying would have been the location where the news was brought.  The fort has a history that predates the Christian Era.  Records of habitation begin as early as 160 BC when the son of a king in nearby Tui built a villa on this point.  It's a beautiful spot with open ocean to the west and views of the coast stretching both south and north beyond the bay.

Rest Day Two: Port, Port and more Port

 On the afternoon of the day we arrived in Porto we walked back, past the Cathedral (the official starting spot of the Portuguese Camino), across the bridge, and rode the Gondola down to the Port houses of Gaia.  Since we'd not yet eaten lunch we stopped for a bite to eat - a hot dog, a Portuguese Nata Tart, a bottle of water (I was thirsty), a beer (for Sandy) and a Gin and Tonic (for me).  It was hot, sunny and beautiful.  Once we'd nourished ourselves we decided to try some of the Port houses we'd missed in the Spring.  It didn't start so well.  At Sandemann the tastings came with a tour of the caves where the Port is aged - there were no more tours available that day so we made a reservation for 10:30 the next morning...not sure whether that was a good omen, or just a bad idea.  Leaving Sandeman we found a couple of houses that were more accommodating.  We tried a flight of aged Ports at Calem, a flight of Tawny ports at Quinto ???, a third flight at Burmiester.  Personally my favorite of them all was the 30 year Port at Calem.  Each came with an explanation of the process of making Port, which in itself is interesting.  There are small differences between the houses that make each version of Port unique.  At Calem the waiter explained that the 10, 20 and 30 year old Ports were blends.  In their version the Port could in fact be made of equal parts 18, 20 and 22 year old wines averaging out to a 20 year, for instance.  Ruby Ports are aged in huge barrels and have less contact with the wood as they age; Tawny Ports are aged in smaller barrels giving them a "Tawny" colour and slightly different flavour over time.  White Ports are aged in stainless steel vats and are a different taste - recommended as an aperitif rather than as a digestive (or after dinner drink).  There are also vintage, late bottle vintage, colheita Ports each coming to our table in different ways.  After three flights of wine, a bike ride, the walk to (and from the hotel ahead) it was time for a Seista.  We crossed the river on the lower portion of the bridge and waited through several times of the funicular going up and down the hill.  The funicular had been closed in the spring, and this time only one of the cars was working.  The ticket to go up was four Euros but the stairs up the hill - the alternative - were not attractive in any way shape or form at this point in our day.  We returned to the hotel where we enjoyed a buffet dinner and a good rest.

The next morning began with breakfast at the hotel and a repeat of the prior days walk into the River Valley.  We needed to be at Sandeman for the 10:30 tour.  It turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip.  The "caves" where the Port is aged are extensive and the information about the Ports was more detailed than many of the other tastings we've attended.  Sandeman was formed in 1790 by an Scotsman in England with a taste for mateuse wine.  It's now owned by a conglomerate that produces wine in Spain, Portugal, Argentina, Chili and a few other places.  The houses on the banks of the Duoro have operated there since the beginning of the 19th Century continuously.  The wine is brought down river from the vinyards about 100 kilometers away aged and stored in barrels, bottled and sold around the world.  They have bottles of vintage Port that have been aging there since as early and 1909.  On the doorway into the establishment are signs showing the levels water has reached during floods of the past 200 years - most recently in 2002.  The tour give information about how the building is built to deal with the eventuality of the floods, and to maintain the constant temperatures and humidity that the aging wines need.  The floor for instance is made of blocks of wood that can be soaked with water in the heat of the summer keeping the humidity up and cooling the building.  Barrels of wine are tied by rope should floods seek to send them floating around the building.  One becomes aware of just how extensive the Port houses of Gaia are when taking the Gondola above orange roofs that extend away from the river.

After our tour we wandered back to the Porto side of the river revisiting the areas we'd been in the spring.  The Banksy exihibition that had opened during our visit in April had closed a few days before.  We retraced our route and found our way to the Quevado Port House.  Quevado produces the advent calendar that we have enjoyed each Advent the past few years.  We shared a plate of cheeses and another flight of Ports.  Taking the Gondola to the top of the bridge we went by the Cathedral where pictures were taken at the starting point of the Portuguese Camino.  We stopped for dinner at a patio on the way home to the hotel where we prepared for the riding that would come the next day.  I was particularly anxious about our plans as we left Porto.  I anticipated that our ride would be through streets full of traffic.  We had close to 10 kilometers from the hotel to the oceanside route which would move us north towards Santiago.  I needed to be clear on the path as we moved through the city minimizing the need to stop to check our path.  We discussed our plans for departure the next day and headed to bed.

Day 10: Following the Camino

 From Sao Joao de Madiera we only had 30 something kilometer to ride into Porto.  We were looking forward to another rest day - time to relax, enjoy some of the Port houses in Gaia, and parts of the city we hadn't seen when there in April.  Despite Sandy's frustration with the route getting to Madiera we opted to follow the Camino route once again.  I'm not completely convinced that there isn't a better way to do this, but really, on the road is not the time to figure it out.  We would once again be climbing more that we might like in exchange for avoiding the busy traffic on the N-1 highway that roughly followed the route from Lisbon to Porto.  It was the right choice to make.  The few times that we came into contact with the highway we were reminded how busy it could be.  Inevitably there were spots where we had no choice and we would experience, again, the constant flow of cars, buses, trucks and other forms of transportation you might conceive along the way reminded us why we made the choices that we did.  On the other hand, we found ourselves in spots wondering if we'd moved away from civilization and into the wilderness - destined to be there for 40 days and 40 nights.  One three or four kilometer stretch took us through patches of recent clear cut and definite signs of the loggers who been around them earlier in the summer.  In the final stretch before reaching Porto we walked our bikes up a steep hill on a Roman road that had never been upgraded.  We've learned that "cobbles" come in sizes that range from about 3 inches by three inches to large boulders fit into the ground to create a solid surface.  The smaller the cobbles, the more likelihood that the road will be amenable to cycling.  Large boulders mean that slaves at some point 2000 years ago lay them in the ground only to have the world pass them by.  The ravages of time mean that erosion and use have multiplied the inequities between the stones and exacerbated the natural bumps that are in them - they are not fit to be cycled on; especially when used to form a road up a hill in 10-12 foots stretches which have become plateau, rise, plateau, rise.  I could imagine the small rivers running down them during a good rain storm in the winter month and wished that some municipal politician might take it upon themselves to upgrade the road surface from cobbles to modern pavement.  In one stretch I'd find myself imagining what it might have been like to watch Roman soldiers with chariots march by alternated by visions of the possibilities of the modern world improving the surfaces we were riding upon.

It wasn't particularly easy riding.  A good part of the distance was cobbles, and, right out of the gate, we were winding around the streets of Sao Joao avoiding the busier routes, but turning corners only to discover a hill in front of us.  The people along the street were certainly friendly and encouraging.  Around one corner three women in conversation paused to wish us a Buen Camino.  As we passed a school yard with a class of elementary students gathered around a table for an outside lesson the teacher was shouting good wishes to us as we slowly climbed the hill.  It did feel good to be getting closer to what I considered in my mind the 1/2 way point of our cycling.

The route took followed a Roman road for a good part of the day.  But when we moved from that road to another we had to cross the N-1 highway.  It was busy.  We found ourselves stopping and starting again frequently.  For a bit our directions put us on the N-1 with the traffic headed into Vila Nova de Gaia.  Porto sits on the north bank of the Duoro River.  Villa Nova de Gaia on the south.  Like Edmonton there are limited spots to cross the river and all roads lead you there.  We were initially planning to find our way to the coast, but the change of routes meant we'd go directly to the historic bridge between Gaia and Porto.  Moving into Gaia took us through a urban green space that is not developed in the way we might know the River Valley to be.  The pathways through the space were rutted and challenging to ride.  Recent rains had left deep puddles and we had to find our way around those.  Both Sandy and I found ourselves battling with thorny plants along the edge of the trail as we avoided the puddles.  The mud around the puddles was greasy.  Our bikes slipped as we rode around.  At one point I needed to put my foot into the mud to avoid my full body and bike slipping into the deep puddle I was navigating around...We passed during this stage a couple from Argentina who were also riding the Camino.  We stopped and visited as well as we could given their lack of English and our lack of Spanish.  As we moved on from that stop the path took us over a rise and became a narrow, steep single track down the hillside.  We walked down guiding our bikes over the steps formed by prior pilgrims making their way through.

We'd finally come into Gaia and the road to the bridge was filled with buses - transit buses, tourist buses and others.  The sidewalks were full of people shopping as we passed a variety of businesses along the downtown streets.   The one saving grace was that the closer we got to the river the thinner the traffic became.  This bridge over the Duoro is primarily a pedestrian bridge - although the LRT tracks also cross.  The pedestrians and trains cross together - pedestrians needing to move out of the way for the trains to get by.  It is a system that would not work in North America, but appears to do well in Porto.  Below on the south side of the River the Port houses attract thousands of tourists from around the world.  At the south west corner of the bridge a gondola carries passengers down into the River Valley.  We'd stayed by the bridge in Porto in April.  This trip our hotel was deeper into the tourist zone of the city - east of the historic center.  We needed to navigate the maze of streets and traffic to get there.  The Garmin would adjust the route we were following if we missed a turn.  After a number of confusing intersections we found our way to the bus depot we'd used in the spring.  Built directly above was our hotel.  We'd not noticed it in the spring.  It was a couple of kilometers back into the historic district and we'd be doing a fair bit of walking over the next two days.  Wasn't sure about how much of that I wanted to be doing; but it was good to be back in Porto.  There is Port to be sampled...

Day 9: Agueda to Sao Joao da Madiera

This was a difficult day of riding and by the end of it Sandy was threatening to leave me in Portugal along with two bikes to complete the Camino - or something.  We'd made a strategic decision in Agueda to follow the Camino route more closely.  It would get us off of the busy highway.  And it did.  The problem was that it led us into back alleys and around corners that we didn't expect.  It gave a new perspective on those who choose to walk the route.  Making this change added a substantial amount of climbing to our itinerary - about 300 meters on the day.  And that climbing was not in small portions.  It felt like every time that we turned around there was a wall in front of us.  Five climbs during the day and at least three of them hit 17% slope.  For the non-cyclists reading this - 8 percent is a challenge; 12 percent is difficult; anything more and there's a great chance you'll be pushing the bike up the hill unless you're under 25 and very fit.   Sandy walked up most of the climbs on the segment of our trip from Agueda to Soa Joao de Madiera.  Adding to the challenge was that Soa Joao de Madiera is pretty much a suburb of Porto the second largest city in Portugal.  The hotel in Sao Joao is close to the intersection of the major north-south freeway between Lisbon and Porto.  It's also connected to the main local highway that essentially follows the Freeway.  Bottom line, we didn't escape the traffic in the way that we'd hoped and changing the route made it that much more difficult a ride.  Because I'm on an e-bike the hills were not really of any consequence.  I could boost the power being provided to the pedals and ease my way up the hills - I did a fair bit of waiting while Sandy was walking.  As we arrived at the hotel Sandy swore that she was one small slope away from quitting and flying home.

The hills began as soon as we left Agueda.  We followed them away from the highway and wandered around some of the outlying neighbourhoods.  It was a beautiful day, but it was also close to 30 degrees.  We were warm.  We were successful at avoiding the highway - we crossed over it in several places.  In a couple of spots we turned onto it when we needed to cross one of the rivers heading to the Atlantic.  In others we found ourselves following Roman roads that had not been upgraded since the fall of the Empire...Bridges and signs that the Camino has been a part of Portugal for much longer than our history with it.  Along the way pilgrims on the Camino to Fatima were walking against traffic.  We'd spot them early - yellow vests and shirts made them stand out for both the traffic and the amateurs going to Santiago.  There were churches, and a couple of times along the route people wishing us a good camino.  It wasn't all long climbs.

Unfortunately, adding to the misery was the news that the hotel's pool was closed when we arrived.  We really could have used the cool dip into it's waters.  We were tired and so the afternoon became a siesta to recover.  Thankfully, by dinner Sandy's mood had improved coming to terms with the realities of the day and letting go of the frustration she was feeling.  The meal in the hotel was quite decent and we were looking forward to an upcoming day of rest in Porto.

Tough riding - sandy's threatening to quit and head home - change in the way we plan the rides taking us away from the busy roads to follow the path of the Camino; signs along the way; large hills - 17 percent

arrival in Sao Joao difficult winding across the town through busy traffic