Day 13 Caminha to Oia

This is Day 13 but pretty well two years after Day 12. Insane travel restrictions from the powers and principalities that run the world made getting onto the camino tricky. However, I eventually made it, waved my recovery certificate at a policeman at Porto airport and walked up from Porto back to Caminha. It took a few days - including some wet ones - but eventually I arrived back in the pretty town of Caminha.

I stayed at the albergue next to the station which was very friendly and did all my laundry so I'd arrive in Spain with clean clothes.

Dinner was in the market square - met one of those incredibly fit kiwis who was walking some 40km a day. There was also a drummer in the square who entertained the crowds by playing along to music. He wasn't bad but got some bits wrong which was a bit more entertaining that he had probably planned. I suspect his mother told him to take his drum kit to the market square rather than practise in the house.

Anyway, the next morning, a whole group of pilgrims were milling around the albergue waiting for the taxi to take us to the water taxi to Spain. They had underestimated demand and a second car was needed. The water taxi was about a 30 minute walk from the town centre so a taxi seemed like a good idea, with a lengthy walk in Spain ahead.

Caminha sits at the mouth of the Minho river and the Northern bank is dominated by a high hill on which there was originally a Celtic hill fort. It's under excavation at the moment.

The boat was as expected - a cheerful little affair with a cheerful skipper. The entry requirements for Spain were:

1) drive boat onto beach

2) get out

3) er...that's it.

Not much in the way of border formalities really.

There are two routes from the landing spot - one goes around the headland to A Guarda, the other goes over the hill. I thought the latter looked more interesting and, having just done a few days of walking by the sea, was ready for a change. It was ok and reasonably well way-marked; the only issue was that going over the hill got quite steep and I wimped out of going right to the top to see the excavation. Looking at photos of the site afterwards, that was the right call.

So then it was a nice walk into A Guarda, at first coffee was joined by a friendly German pilgrim who thought I was the spitting image of an anaesthetist in his home town. Then a second coffee followed by a super walk along the coast. The first thing one noticed however was just how many pilgrims there were. Compared to a couple of years back, the numbers were insane. Great news for hotel and cafe owners. The most curious sight on the coast however was some form of farm - I think for lobsters. Most unusual to my eyes - one wouldn't want to go for a swim in there, far too nippy. Ho ho.

Lunch was at Esplanada do Horizonte, in Portecelo, which is a small cabin serving great sandwiches and beer and overlooking the sea.

A little further on, someone had even gone to the trouble to make a "Jardin Meditative del caminante", a Meditation garden with views over the sea. It was a very pleasant place to sit for a few minutes.

It was a super day and great to be back in Spain. There was a rather nice little one chapel on the way into Oia, manned by a couple of local ladies, who were happy to chat and stamp passports.

The monastery at Oia is one of those famous sites in every guidebook but it looked rather closed up and the day was getting long. Instead, after a few more km up the coast one came to next albergue for the night. It advertised a mini-market which sounded promising but that turned out to a poorly stocked vending machine.

It also had some interesting neighbours in the back garden. I didn't fancy slaughtering and butchering one of them for an evening meal, so it was time to explore. Everywhere was closed or not doing food except for the Repsol across the road which did beer and water, and the nearby Hotel Glasgow. The name didn't sound too enticing but after trying everywhere else it turned out to have a perfectly pleasant restaurant, completely full of pilgrims.

The best comedy moment of the day was a struggle with the front door of the albergue. The lock did not seem to work and people were worried that if they went out, they would not get back in as reception was un-manned. A group of us spent a few minutes trying to work out how to get the door open and what was the contingency plan if it remained locked. Then someone noticed that the huge glass window next to the front door was unlocked and even a bit ajar. Problem solved.