Camino Frances 19 May 2024 - Sarria to Portomarin

 Sarria to Portomarín: A Day of Rolling Hills, Rain, and Resilience

The buzz of Sarria reaches your ears before the town even comes into view. After a hearty breakfast, we set off with the intention of snapping a photo at the iconic SARRIA sign, only to find it swarmed by a tour bus crowd—and another one lining up behind it. No matter. We decide to skip the chaos and press on, eager to put some distance between us and the masses. After all, Sarria is where the largest wave of pilgrims begins their Camino, and our days of solitude on the trail are about to come to an end.

Adapted from  Alison's diary entry.

Today’s journey takes us through the undulating Galician countryside—up and down, up and down. You get the picture. But we’ll get there. The apple trees lining the road are just beginning to bloom, their delicate blossoms a reminder that spring is in full swing.

By the time we reach Rente, we find ourselves sharing the path with a herd of cows, ambling their way to the next pasture. An Alsatian trots alongside, keeping them in line. The rain has finally stopped, but the mud remains, clinging to our boots. Glimpses of blue sky tease us, and for a brief moment, we’re serenaded by birdsong. But, as if on cue, the rain returns, and we’re back to dodging puddles.

At a crossroads where the bike path meets ours, we spot a sign: 700m to the café. That’s less than two laps around an oval, we reassure ourselves—except this oval goes uphill. As we trudge on, we’re halted by another herd of cows, this one being ushered into the dairy by a diligent German shepherd.

The trail markers seem to be playing tricks on us. We should’ve reached our destination by now, but the path keeps winding. Down a steep hill we go, only to face another climb up to the Río Miño. As we approach the bridge, I warn my companions, “You’re not going to like what’s on the other side.” The response? “I can’t see that far, and I don’t want to know.” Crossing the 200-meter bridge feels like a feat in itself, but the real challenge awaits: the infamous Spanish steps. And just when we think we’re done, there’s still more uphill to our hotel.

We finally stumble into Portomarín, weaving through the main street to the plaza. Kim and Louise collapse onto a bench, refusing to move. Kim declares she’s taking a cab, even though the hotel is only 260 meters away. “That’s too far,” she insists. “I don’t think I can make it.” But after a moment’s rest, we rally and push on, step by step, until we reach our refuge.

It’s 7 p.m., and exhaustion has claimed us. Dinner? Forget it. Straight to bed. Tomorrow is another day on the Camino.

Steps 43,954

Kim, Louise & Alison