On the Road: Pilgrims, Forests, and Medieval Bridges
Adapted from Alison's diary entry:
The Camino is alive with energy today, as we join the steady stream of pilgrims marching toward Santiago. I still can’t quite get used to the sheer number of people who’ve joined the trail since Sarria. It’s a bustling parade of backpacks, walking poles, and cameras clicking madly at every turn. I suppose I shouldn’t be so complacent—after all, I’ve been walking for weeks now, and the magic of these ancient forests has become almost routine. But there’s something about seeing newcomers wide-eyed with wonder that reminds me not to take this journey for granted.
Galicia, with its lush landscapes and misty air, is a world apart from the rest of Spain. It’s the wettest region in the country, and the evidence is everywhere. Little weirs dot the countryside, channeling runoff from the surrounding highlands into rivers. It’s easy to imagine people from another era gathering here, collecting their daily water to carry back to their homes. These small, functional structures feel like quiet witnesses to centuries of life along the Camino.
The forests here are something out of a fairy tale. In most places, moss grows on the northern side of trees, where sunlight is scarce. But in Galicia, the dampness is so pervasive that moss blankets every inch of the tree trunks, wrapping them in a soft, green embrace. Stepping out of these forests is like crossing into another world—the temperature shifts dramatically, and the air feels lighter, less dense.
Today, we’ve encountered another Compiementario—our second unplanned detour of the day. These unexpected additions to the route aren’t on our itinerary, and while I wait for the others to catch up, I already know the answer. There’s a side trail leading to a Knights Templar outpost, but Louise has made it clear she’s not up for an extra 5 kilometers, especially after three consecutive 21-kilometer days. Fair enough.
The rain has held off, but the air is so saturated with moisture that it feels like walking through a cloud. The dew point must be close to 100%, and you can almost taste the dampness with every breath.
A bathroom break for Kim becomes a priority, so we make a stop at the next café. Ice creams all around—a small reward as we brace ourselves for the approaching hill. Refreshed, we press on, crossing the medieval bridge over the Rio Iso at Ribadiso. This bridge is an essential part of the Camino de Santiago, a timeless link between past and present. To the right stands the Ribadiso da Ponte Hospital, also known as the Santo Anton de Ribadiso Hospital, a 12th-century refuge built to serve weary pilgrims. It’s humbling to think of the countless travelers who’ve passed through these same arches, seeking rest and solace.
The climb that follows is, without a doubt, the steepest of the day—if not the longest. With determination, we push through the wind and icy rain, step by step, until we reach the top. The view is nothing short of stunning: the town below is a patchwork of green and golden crops, freshly ploughed fields, and pine plantations, all framed by chestnut trees and the winding river. It’s a landscape that feels both ancient and alive.
The ascent continues, though at a gentler pace, as we enter Arzua. By now, the rhythm of walking has become second nature, and the town’s arrival feels like a quiet victory.
After a long day on the Camino, we returned to our hotel with one thing on our minds: dinner. We asked about dining options at the hotel, only to be told they were fully booked due to a large group reservation. The staff kindly recommended a nearby restaurant and assured us we had a table reserved at 8:00 pm.
8:00 pm? That’s practically midnight by pilgrim standards! We asked if we could get in earlier—say, 5:00 or 6:00 pm—but no luck. The restaurant doesn’t even open until 8:00 pm. Apparently, the Spanish dining schedule is alive and well here.
Not ones to wait around, we decided to take matters into our own hands and explore the town in search of an earlier meal. As we stepped outside, we were greeted by a rare and welcome sight: sunshine. After days of rain and mist, the golden light felt like a gift, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets and inviting us to wander a little longer.
It’s a fleeting gift, but one we savoUr. Then, it’s off to Farmacia No. 8—because, apparently, even on the Camino, there’s always a need for supplies.
Steps 31,141
Accommodation: 1930 Boutique Hotel
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