As Chivas to Pontevedra

Our guidebook says the walk to Pontevedra would be 4 hours. So far, we have been able to match our training pace before going on the Camino, cobblestones, and hills notwithstanding. We follow the national roads as we get closer to Santiago. The trails, and walking on boulders and rocks are, mercifully behind us. Old historical roads and medieval bridges have become more frequent on the Camino.

The yellow arrows led us to the foot of an old bridge. A picturesque scene. Across the bridge, red tile roofs dot both banks. Sailboats were moored at the other end of the bridge. The river rippled under the bridge, creating tiny whitewater as it broke over shallow river rocks. We had to be cautious, though. The bridge was quite narrow and allowed only one-way traffic. On a wall at the foot of the bridge, we can see a commemorative marker:

GUERRA DE LA INDEPENDENCIA
HEROICA
BATALLA DE PONTE SAMPIAO
VII-VIII JUNIO – MDCCCIX
CLXXV
ANNIVERSARIO
MCMLXXXIV

Our guidebook describes it as an old Roman bridge. A quick look on Google describes a battle of the local Galician militia against the French army of Napoleon. The bridge had no military value, but Napoleon wanted to break the British support for Spain and Portugal. The Galicians prevailed and celebrate this event as a war of independence. It’s hard to imagine that a bridge 200 meters long would determine the lives of thousands of soldiers and the history of Europe.

Past the bridge, we follow the riverside path, which led to a labyrinth of small streets. We reach a stone-paved path and uphill onto the country roads and pretty hamlets. A few meters ahead was the chapel of Santa Marta de Canderon. A tiny chapel. We saw some pilgrims going in and stamping their sellos. When we went in, a mass service was being held. We set our gear on the pews and prayed with the group. It was September 8, Pat reminded me. Dad’s birthday.

From the chapel, we faced an intersection. There were two yellow arrows painted on the wall—one pointed ahead along the highway; the other to the left, with a sign—complementario. Our guidebook describes this as more shady and attractive passing through river banks. We chose the highway. The coastal trail might be unpredictable. It had been drizzling. Earlier on the trail, we went through a village path that was flooded. Fortunately, a municipal worker had been filling in the water puddles with gravel and sand. We thought that was a nice touch. They wanted to make sure the pilgrims face minor inconveniences.

The pilgrim ahead of us, a young man, took the complementario route. We saw him disappear as he reached the coast. We continued on the N-550 knowing that the going was going to be hot under the unshaded sun. A respite loomed ahead after 4 km. A cafe, thank goodness. The bartender, a middle age woman, greeted us and took our orders. She added, over the din with a smirk, those men (seated before the TV) don’t care for anything other than futball. I asked over the TV noise, “Tienes sanitorio?” She pointed to the door on her left. Pat followed suit as I approached the bar for the drinks. A young man now minded the counter, the son perhaps. He told me that Chincho was some kind of river fish, but they were really known for their Galician dish, zorza, spicy minced meat with potatoes. Lunch was out of the question. Pontevedra was not too far away. It’s known for fancy dining places. We thanked the young man and sauntered on. Behind us, just arriving, was the young man who took the complementary route.

We follow the river and into a short wooded portion away from the traffic. The Camino continues past the rail tracks and under a road bridge into Pontevedra. It was not hard to find our hotel this time. The hotel was on the Camino route. It took a saintly name: Hotel Virgen Del Camino located in one of the city’s “pedestrianized” streets. Better still, it was next door to Froiz, which by now has become our favorite supermarket. There’s ice to be found for sure. And we looked forward to spending two nights here and doing some laundry.