Redondela to Arcade, 7km

We did more sightseeing around Vigo before dinner. The museums won’t open until 5 pm. Instead, we window-shopped the newer part of the city—brightly wrapped boutique soaps; a painter displaying his wares next door to a vacant shop marred by graffiti.

Dinner was at the D’Sams. Strange name for a restaurant, but the food it delivered to expectations was not too expensive for the quality it offered. Pat savored her grilled scallops. The freshly caught sole was grilled to perfection. The salads heightened the flavor of both dishes.

There was nothing else to do but get a good night’s sleep, have breakfast in the morning, and do the short 7 km walk, our shortest. We did not have to walk back to Redondela!

Redondela to Arcade

Breakfast the next morning was not fancy. The usual cured meats, bread, and jam. They had yogurt, thank goodness. A brief crisis occurred when the coffee maker blew from overheating. Perhaps it might have been under-used during the pandemic and is now overworked with more hotel guests. A young American, a student maybe, sat across from us. After he finished his breakfast, he went back to the buffet table and pocketed a banana and some pastries.

The transfer taxi took us back to Redondela and dropped us off at the plaza. The Camino marker was at the corner of the street across the albergue. A few meters forward, we saw the 12th c. church of St. James.

We were early. It was still closed. But a man walking with haste towards us hailed us to wait. He was going to open the church. We followed him in and got our sellos. From the church, we followed the cobblestone street to take us out to N-550. It’s in and out of N-550. Sometimes the path would be on sandy trails, but it would take us out to N-550 once more. At one time, we crossed a railroad. At the outskirts of Arcade, a metal cutout pictured a family on the trail.

I love the municipality encourages trail walking for its citizens. There’s so much to appreciate on the trail. Arcade is not an exception. Not too far into town, we arrived at a park with a water fountain. It’s not potable, the sign warns, but people were filling their water bottles, regardless. A bunch of women, Americans, we gathered from their familiar backpack brands. We exchanged quick Bon Caminos. One shared her admiration for the hydration packs. I nod in agreement. They were from the West Coast too and started from Baiona. The park indeed was thick with pilgrims taking a break. A quite diverse crowd ambled on-a Black person with a daughter; a Latino-looking man, notable because he didn’t seem to carry much; and a couple of young, stout women. They looked alike to be sisters.

Our guidebook suggested we wander about Arcade’s beachfront. We pass, eager to get to our lodgings, a farmhouse, we were told. We veered out of the main road to a side street. A hotel was at the corner. In the dining room on the upper balcony, the Americans we saw earlier waved at us. I nodded in acknowledgment. Our instructions were to get a taxi from the corner of Hotel Duarte to take us to the farmhouse. It was also drizzling. After a wait of 15 minutes, a cab drives up. “Vamos hotel As Chivas.” He said he knew where it was. We went around narrow village streets uphill. As Chivas was a pretty country house. But it wasn’t what we expected.

Our room faced a courtyard. There were four rooms on our floor. Tiny, I imagine, like ours. Although the linen was fresh, it seemed like they had not refurbished the place after the pandemic. The courtyard view was pleasant, overlooking the valley below. A strange structure sat in the middle. It looked like a chicken coop. We found out later, after a Google check, that it was a horreo, a Galician rodent-proof granary. They served dinner in the house. It was disappointing—a soupy half-cooked rice dish, chicken in tomato sauce, and a measly salad. At least, I could request a cup of hot chocolate. During dinner, we met a few other pilgrims. A German couple and a group of Spanish women and a couple of males. The women were friendly and eager to wave at us but talk loudly. The rain had dampened our spirits a bit, and we were not keen on socializing. We are just eager to get to bed and have a good night’s sleep if possible. The next stage, the walk to Pontevedra is a bit of a distance.

We had a so-so breakfast at As Chivas, but at least, enough to power us to lug (the walk was cobblestone and would ruin the wheels) our heavy suitcase to the front desk for later pickup and transfer to Pontevedra. Outside the gate, while we waited for our taxi to take us back to Hotel Duarte where the trailhead began, we exchanged small talk with a German couple and take group pictures. Unlike us, they were walking back to the trailhead. They look like the walking type.