Day 13 – Triacastelo to Sarria

A day to be savoured, as when we hit Sarria we meet the hordes who will be starting out on of their “last 100k to Santiago Camino”. Our guidebook tells us, the ones who’ve done the longer haul, not to be offish or discriminate against these Pilgrims. Sensible advice really, as everyone has their reason for doing the walk; and on a more simplistic note, it’s a very fortunate, or retired person who can get 6 weeks off to do the whole thing. I shall therefore be defaulting to my “how I discriminated at work position”. Two things; “performance” and “football”. I shall even put my football discrimination onto “Minimum and Mandatory” i.e. Swindon, Swindon U18’s, u21’s, U23’s, Ladies etc and Man United. I am, after all a very reasonable and mellow person. Talking of which, Cate’s late Mum had a very wise saying – “don’t try to change your man, but he should mellow with time”. I am, of course the living embodiment of that!

According to Cate, I should have woken with a hangover this morning, due to over socialising with the Waterford Wanderers last night. I did have a few “jarra’s”(local name for grande cervezas), and some Vino Tinto. Luckily I didn’t go for any Whiskey In The Jarra’s wit da lads!

Firstly today we had a bit of a shock. No sun rising. It looked like a typically Galician morning, with the lush green hilltops shrouded in mist. The Waterford lads would have felt quite at home! After about 3k we came upon a farm where the snarling dogs sounded like they wanted to rip us limb from limb. Fortunately they couldn’t get at us, but as we walked past the farmhouse entrance a woman came out and shouted “desculpe” and started yabbering on. Now, I was about to whip out my passport and give her the full “Her Britannic Majesty’s Secretary of State requests……..” bit, but I heard the words “no Camino”. She pointed us back down the hill (great a wasted climb) and kept saying “derecha”. Arse! We’d gone wrong! No mention of this to Mr Paul cooper please, as I’ll never hear the end of it. Even though he doesn’t even know his way out Oxford, where he’s lived for nearly 70 years, without a Satnav. Back down the hill we found the correct, but unmarked turning. Thanks heavens Mrs Farmer’s Wife spotted us, otherwise we’d have been absolutely stuffed. Gracias Maria, or whatever your name is!

It was a 9k walk to our first coffee stop at Franco’s café in the middle of nowhere. In fairness, the owner seemed quite friendly, so was almost certainly no relation to the late Fascist dictator who ruled this beautiful land for so long. However, a bill of €13 for not short of sweet FA made me change my mind – he’s probably more akin to our very own Fascist Dictator. At this point I have to say that one the great joys of the last 14 days is that I have not the heard the voice of lying bumbling buffoon who attempts to masquerade as a PM and Statesman! Ironically the only person we spoke to on the way to Franco’s was a young Aussie who we’d met the previous day. A very smart young fella who had started his walk in Lourdes. That’s in France, not just north of Marylebone Station, in case you didn’t know. He pretty much said that the world is laughing at the UK at the moment. Embarrassing! He was obviously of good stock as his Grand-Mother came from Oxford!

Just as we were leaving Franco’s, Tom the Septic turned up. We made a hasty retreat! Just quick enough not to call for the ear defenders.

 

My kind of place!

We passed through San Xil and Pintin, 2 places with marvellous names, and then began our descent into Sarria. Yet again we fell for the old “we can see our destination, so it can’t be far routine”.  Anyway we eventually got there. Usual boring suburbs, but the main part of the old town was pretty nice, albeit that every building was an Albergue. 

We indulged in the novelty of lunch, a rare treat. Then we saw Bridget from Baden-Wurtemburg. A lovely German lady who was walking with her daughter, and daughter’s friend. We’d seen her in Trabedelo 2 days earlier, and she was in a bad way, so was getting a taxi up to O Cebreiro to meet her younger companions. Fortunately her leg was improving and she had managed to walk 15k today. By contrast, her younger compatriots had both developed problems and were off to see a physio. Shame we didn’t have Ray from Waterford with us, as he was Physio. Mind you he would have probably recommended 4 glasses of red to nullify the pain.

We found our hotel for the night, and to be honest, it’s not the best. Worse still is that our bags hadn’t arrived. Then Cate’s turned up but mine didn’t. Luckily, the Spanish chambermaid who literally did not speak a single word of English, took up the challenge and got onto JaconTrans. It had been taken to another hotel not far away. Bless her, she offered to go and get it! What a woman! But I trundled down to Hotel Roma to have an emotional reunion with my long lost possessions. I nearly shed a tear as I left, but managed to just about hold myself together. Just as bloody well, for as I turned to leave I literally bumped into the Colleens of Carlow. Anyway it was lovely to see them resplendent in their pastel shades, still looking as white as ghosts. I doff my cap to them – two very resolute and determined Irish ladies. They reminded me of my friend Tim’s mother in so many ways. But she was from Mullingar, not Carlow!

 

Reunited with my bag, I floated back down Rua Calvo Sotelo with a grin on my face that very drew suspicious looks from the locals.

 Tomorrow we join the hordes. In fact we encountered a Spanish TV crew twice as we made our way through Sarria. It didn’t take a genius to work out that they were doing a piece on the huge increase in numbers on the Camino of late. Sadly we couldn’t agree terms, so they had to take sloppy seconds and interview Juan from Jaen and Sexy Suzy from Salamanca instead. Their loss!

 

So brace yourself for tomorrow’s update. I may well need to let off some steam! Luckily, though, I am mellowing with time apparently!