Startpoint: Samos; Endpoint: Portomarin; Distance walked: about 37km; Steps taken: 48,453.

I have been walking a month! Dad and I left St Jean in France on 17th September to cover 788km. A month later and there’s less than a hundred km left to go.

I was woken early by the rustle of plastic bags and squeaking of flip-flops. My alarm hadn’t gone off, but my phone had dropped off the bed during the night, so maybe it had broken. Somebody turned on the lights to a mixed chorus of groans and sighs. Groans from the sleepers and sighs from the early risers. I finally found my watch: 6.30am. I joined the groaners.

I was on the road by 7.30. It was still dark, so I wore a headtorch. I started by walking on the road with farms on my left. There is something very spooky about passing a field of huge pumpkins by torchlight. I shivered uncontrollably and wished I wasn’t alone. Then I realised my water tube was caught in my pack and leaking down the back of my shorts. I fixed it. Stopped shivering and was glad I was alone.

Based on my map-book, I estimated I had a 5km walk back to the main track. I estimated wrong. It was a lovely walk through oak forests, mucky farmyards and tiny villages, but it took my over two hours, so more like 9 or 10km. I joined all the other pilgrims at 9.30am already exhausted and with sore feet. Most people had an hour’s lead. I stopped for a coffee until most people had a ninety minute lead.

Today I passed Sarria, which is the last big town before the 100km mark. It’s the minimum distance before Santiago to get a certificate of pilgrimage (or Compostela) from the Cathedral office. It therefore marks the startpoint for many pilgrims. I passed group after group of pilgrims on their day one.

Soon after Sarria I saw a group of people gathered around the corner of a building, all taking photos. There were six or seven people taking multiple pics each. I walked around the building quickly to find out what the attraction was…
Cows. Three normal, boring, everyday cows. Nothing big, weird or odd. Just cows. I haven’t photographed a cow since [checks notes] a month ago!

A little later I passed a person taking photos of every yellow arrow showing the way. There are about fifty such arrows every kilometre. I passed that person fairly quickly. I wonder how big their memory stick is.

Then it began to get misty…
The new pilgrims all stopped and panicked getting out their raingear and struggling into ponchos. I laughed and walked on in my shorts and t-shirt.

Then it began to drizzle…
The old pilgrims all stopped and grumbled and got into their damp, muddy raingear and ponchos. I laughed and walked on in my shorts and t-shirt.

Then it began to pour. I whimpered and walked on, sure it would stop soon.

After two hours, I crawled shivering and dripping into a barn to change my t-shirt, before putting on my rain jacket. As I was shirtless and wet, a couple of Spanish pilgrims looked in and offered me all the dry clothes in their bags. I had some chocolate instead. It helped.

We’re staying tonight in Pontomarin. In the sixties, they moved the old town and the castle-like church, stone by stone, from the valley floor about 300 meters higher up, to allow them flood the valley. Crossing the new bridge, we could see the old roman bridge and ruins from the old town rising out of the river below. It was quite beautiful. Three of us were lucky enough to get a private room in one of the hostels. After our stuff had been in it for a few hours, it smelled like a kennel for wet diseased dogs.

Buen Camino.