Travel Day

The true test of any journey often lies in the travel itself. Reaching those places that stir the soul is rarely a straightforward affair. This was to become my reality. A weariness from the pre-trip bustle clung to me, yet the promise of the journey eclipsed any fatigue. Perhaps it was a prelude of what was to come, but I ran out of the Santiago airport, only to miss my bus by a mere twenty seconds! Transforming disappointment into a quiet victory, I found solace in a steaming café con leche, and awaited the next bus. Soon, I was en route, disembarking at the train station where another small hurdle crossed my path—the Spring rains had delayed the train. Eventually, I made it on board and settled into my seat, I kept an intermittent eye on the display, eager for my stop. But I misstepped by exiting at the wrong station had to scramble back onto the train just as it prepared to continue its route. Finally, arriving at Redondela, I found that I still had a fifteen-minute walk to the bus stop. Halfway there, the heavens opened, unleashing a significant downpour. I stop quickly to don my rain gear, and was off again, arriving at what I hoped was the sole bus stop for Tui, Spain, where I would begin my pilgrimage. No one I asked could confirm the veracity of the stop, yet patience, as it often does, delivered. The bus arrived on schedule, carrying me through the final leg of a long day, depositing me safely at my destination. A final seven-minute dash through the pouring rain, and all was truly well.

Day 1: Tui to Porriño (19km/11.8 miles)

Blessed by a restorative night's sleep, I awoke to the sun’s gentle smile. After a swift repack, a delightful breakfast awaited me. Backpack positioned, water bladder full, I was ready to step onto the path. It would be my maiden voyage on the Portuguese Route. My body, attuned to the rhythm of pilgrimage, felt wonderfully alive. The morning was nothing short of spectacular: a vast, cloudless expanse of deep blue sky unfolded before me. Soon, I was immersed in the countryside, a personal concert of nature surrounding me—songbirds singing, whispering breezes, crowing roosters, and bleating sheep. What an amazing beginning! A few hours into my walk, I found a welcoming café, a much-needed haven in the quietude of the low season. There, I observed a local family cheering on their elderly father, who was bravely relearning to walk after an illness—a poignant tableau of life’s tenacious fight to keep moving forward. As I continued, I savored quiet moments to reflect on the four important questions I’d brought with me, seeking answers. Along the trail, a profound answer to one question began to unfold, woven into the gnarled shape of a dormant grapevine. This interaction flowed with such unexpected beauty, leaving me deeply moved. The day culminated in Porriño, where I discovered a fantastic restaurant run by incredibly warm Venezuelan family. Our shared history—my family and I lived in Venezuela for nine years, fostering a deep connection to its culture and people—forged an instant bond of friendship.

A View of Tui, Spain from Portugal across the Miño River

Day 2: Porriño to Redondela (19km/11.8 miles)

The day dawned with a crisp 37º in the air , yet it proved to be ideal walking weather. Again, no rain—a unique blessing for Galicia in February, a season typically abundant with precipitation. I wondered how long this benevolent sunshine would last. The trail was blissfully uncrowded, a true luxury. Accustomed to leading groups during the busier season, having the path virtually to myself was a cherished gift. Hours later, passing through the pueblo of Mos, I encountered a Lavadoiro—a communal washing spot where, decades and centuries ago, women gathered not only to wash clothes but to connect, support one another and share local news via face-to-face conversations. It prompted a quiet reflection of how in our Western modern experience we’ve perhaps lost such spaces for slow, meaningful dialogue. Pressing onward, the stretches of solitude allowed a profound pattern to emerge and I began to notice a connection between the four questions that had occupied my thoughts. I began to grasp the deeper significance of these inquiries, the Camino once again serving as my adept teacher.

Day 3: Redondela to Pontevedra (22.5km/14 miles)

Today’s route offered a choice: the main path or an alternative one. Ever the adventurer, I opted for the latter, drawn by the allure of Saint Peter’s Church in Cesantes—a magnificent stone structure perched atop a hill, overlooking the Saint Simon Ensenada. I envoy visiting these ancient buildings, imagining the stories etched into their very stones. Yet, from here, things took a turn, literally and figuratively, downhill. I got lost, a much-needed bathroom remained elusive, and the alternative route led me dangerously close to a busy highway. Frustration began to brew within me, but I identified it and caught it in time that I was able to choose instead to pause and listen. It was as if the Camino whispered, "The choice of your path sometimes brings disruption and discomfort; keep walking, and you’ll find your way.” Once I reconnected back to the original Camino, the day blossomed. I savored a delightful lunch beside a babbling brook, enjoyed long walks through serene forests and charming hamlets, and finally, arrived to the captivating old city of Pontevedra, a jewel of Galicia, rich in medieval art and history.

Church of the Virgen Pilgrim, Pontevedra, Spain

Day 4: Pontevedra to Caldas de Reis (23.5km/14.6 miles)

Today was a true gift, a solo journey through a forest of moss-draped trees, their verdant branches forming soft, green arches. Alongside the Gándaras River, the flowing, bubbling water became the very sound of peace, saturating my being. A sudden wave of gratitude washed over me, prompting heartfelt thanks for this opportunity to enjoy nature’s splendor. Given the low season, open establishments were rare, so stumbling upon Don Pulpo Café (Mr. Octopus) felt like discovering an oasis. All I desired was a moment to shed my pack, rest my legs, and savor a cold beer—and all expectations were delightfully delivered. I met a few fellow pilgrims there, and we shared tales of our Camino journeys. Despite walking five to six hours daily, I realized that, paradoxically, time was moving too quickly. With only two days remaining, a touch of sadness crept in. Rising from my respite, I consciously slowed my steps, a futile attempt to stretch time itself. Ultimately, I reached Caldas de Reís, more a pueblo than a city, renowned for its thermal baths, once frequented by Spanish royalty of the past. This town even appears in Ptolemy’s Tables (AD 100–170), referred to as Aquae Calidae. Remarkably, almost 1900 years later, those hot springs still flow. Astonishing!

Leaving Caldas de Reís, continuing the journey

Day 5: Caldas de Reis to Padrón (21km/13.1 miles)

Most of this pilgrimage unfolded in solitude, rarely encountering more than five pilgrims each day. It felt as if the entire trail belonged to me, an unexpected and welcomed gift. My companions have been the birds, insects, and the assorted farm animals. Each day was a tapestry of streams, forests, and a succession of small family vineyards—grapes, it seems, are the lifeblood of this region. Today, the journey led through medieval forests, brimming with wild ferns and flora, a mosaic of green in every shade and tone. Midway through, I reconnected with a couple of fellow sojourners I’d met days earlier: Joshua from the Netherlands, accompanied by his enormous but gentle dog, Boa, and Dana from Ukraine. We walked together for several kilometers, then, as seamlessly as we’d joined, we parted ways, each continuing our unique Camino. At last, nature gave way to civilization as I began the approach to Padrón, crossing the wide Ulla River via Pontecesures (The Cesures Bridge), said to have been built in AD 1161 and rebuilt in 1870 and again in 1955. Once in Padrón, I made my way to the Santiago Church, named for the Camino’s Patron Saint. Within its walls, under the Eucharist alter, lies the legendary rock said to have moored the boat that miraculously carried the body of the Apostle James from Palestine to Galicia. Though legend, it ignites the imagination, prompting the delightful thought: What if?

Legendary Stone where St James’ boat is thought to have been moored, Padrón, Spain.

Day 6: Padrón to Santiago de Compostela (26km/16.1 miles)

Today, a bittersweet current runs through me. The journey, begun with such profound hope, draws to a close, yet the joy of anticipating arrival in Santiago de Compostela is palpable. I have entered this magnificent city many times, and the overwhelming beauty and majesty of Obradoiro Square, and the Cathedral’s spires reaching skyward as if grasping for the Divine never ceases provoke awe in me. Given the longer distance today, I set out at 6:30 AM. It’s cold, but my layers provide comfort, and I know warmth comes with movement. The stillness is profound—everyone, everything, is asleep. Even nature’s creatures are silent. I hear only the crunch of my footfalls and the slow rhythm of my breath. Each intentional step is quiet pleasure. I navigate the narrow, winding passageways leading out of the city, my eyes attentive searching for the guiding yellow arrows of the Camino in the liminal dawn. Slowly, purposefully, the sun begins its ascent, casting deep orange hues as light overtakes darkness. The first stirrings of animal and human life begin to reach my ears, a gentle reminder that I am not truly alone. I pass through more forests, climb hills, and traverse narrow paths. The shade of the trees keeps the air cool, but eventually, I climb to the top of a hill where the sun’s warmth caresses my face for the first time. It is a spectacular sensation, prompting me to stop, smile, and simply bask in its goodness for several minutes. Warmed, I continue onward, realizing I haven't had my morning coffee—a problem soon solved in the town of Milladoiro. Sauntering along, I spot a quaint café and sitting at a table facing the street is Joe, a pilgrim from New York whom I’d met earlier in the week. I pop in, enjoying one of the best cups of coffee I’ve ever tasted. We leave together, walking most of the rest of the way into Santiago. Eventually, we encounter Christian from Germany, and soon, we are a trio. This is the magic of the Camino: friendships bloom with others who come from across the globe. Joe and Christian pause in town, and I continue on by myself, feeling it fitting to complete the journey to the Cathedral as I began it—solo. Soon enough, into my view comes the Grand Cathedral, its design awe-inspiring. I’ve made it, and a flood of gladness and gratitude washes over me. My pilgrimage has unfolded, leaving me with answered questions and a soul beautifully renewed.

Obradoiro Square and Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, Spain

Winding Down: Santiago de Compostela

It’s a peculiar feeling, after so much walking, to know that soon, the obligation to walk will cease—unless I intentionally seek it out. I will miss that gentle compulsion. For now, I finish my notes, freshen up, rest, and prepare for the Pilgrim’s Evening Mass. Running a little behind, I dash from my hostel and outside, looking like a lost tourist, is Joe from New York. What are the chances? I invite him to Mass, and he’s game. We half-walk, half-jog to the Cathedral, and en route, we meet Christian and another friend from Italy. Once settled in our pew, Dana from Ukraine appears, and just like that, the gang is reunited! Mass is beautiful: quiet, liturgical, meaningful, a marvelous close to the journey, complete with the pilgrim’s blessing. On special Holy Days during the Pilgrim’s Mass, the Botafumeiro is swung—literally translated “the smoke disperser”—it’s a four-foot-tall censer filled with incense, lifted by a pulley system and swung high from side-to-side by six priests handling the ropes. It’s an incredible experience. The sweet aroma spreads throughout the enormous Cathedral, filling every nook and cranny. I’m reminded of the Apostle John’s words in Revelation: “and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints” and I imagine a great cloud of prayers ascending to God as our hearts unite. We end the evening at a local seafood restaurant, the five of us gathered, sharing stories of our Camino adventure until we close the place down. Walking back to our respective hostels, we pause to bid farewell with handshakes and hugs. I return to my room, a deep satisfaction in my heart, grateful to have been on pilgrimage once again, already looking forward to the next one!

If you’re interested in a pilgrimage with us, we are eager to take you on this incredible ancient pathway. We have 2 pilgrimages available: Sept 2025 and Oct 2025. You can reach out to us at info@caminoquest.com.

My Portuguese Camino “Mini-memoir”

Solvitur Ambulando: Is it really solved through walking?