Let the Undulations Begin

Day 3  Walk from Vilei to Ferreiros

The legends and symbols of the camino arose around me as we began our third day of the walk. First, the scallop shell dots the landscape. Steve and Rob in the food movie "The Trip" drive around Northern England in search of gourmet dishes. What did they find? The caramelized scallop, presented with a flourish, on their plates ad nauseam. 

My #2 Favorite Scallop

On the pilgrim's trail the scallop shape appears on trail markers, dishes, souvenirs sold in tourist trinket shops and as an architectural decoration. I did not tire of its shape. How did the scallop from the sea end up on 500 miles of the camino far from the sea? The vast majority of the legends connecting the scallop to Saint James and, thus to the road of the pilgrims, involves some one, like a bridegroom, or some thing, like a horse, falling into water and rising covered in scallops. For details, pursuit of these tales are scattered about the web. Today, the primary role of the scallop is to be the guiding shell to keep pilgrims on the right trail toward Santiago. 

What turn did the road of life take for Steve and Rob? Enjoy the movie.

My hope for my path was to walk without pain and soak in the countryside.  Fortunately, my legs and the weather made that goal a reality. Introspection eluded my mind. No revelations popped into my dreams. A new joy evolved though - the growth of community and companionship among our group. A comraderie of fun and fellowship sparked our conversations. I thank our guides for setting the friendly and helpful tone of the trip.  

After walking my ten kilometers daily, sightseeing did not fit on my agenda, but the scallop  fence along the rio Sarria and the morning light on  the water just a dozen steps from the hotel called to me as our bags were being loaded into the vans.   

The morning surprise was a quick trip to a monastery where the pilgrim passports were handed out for a few euros. Again the dilemma. Am I a pilgrim? Am I a tourist? If I choose to pick-up a passport, am I cheating? I am not a pilgrim. I am a tourist. Is it a sacrilege to carry a passport and get a stamp when I will have traversed by foot and by car (mostly car) under three hundred kilometers of the camino? But on the other hand, some of the stamps are really cute and the book will make a nice souvenir. As I mull these thoughts over, I join the group exploring the very ancient cemetery across from the monastery as we wait for the doors to open.   

The couple from Calgary

My conscience conceded that I am a tourist. Souvenirs are acceptable. Plus, everyone has one.  I joined the crowd. 

One prime goal of this trip for me was to minimize stress, so I decided not to compete for the most stamps in my book and not to be deflected from the joy of walking because I was on a hunt for places where I could add one more stamp to my collection. The primary places  to gain a stamp are hotels, bars, restaurants and shops. My success in abiding by this goal is reflected in the number of stamps in my book and the number of bars and shops I did not enter. Do not try to guess what my tally was. 

After leaving the monastery, we Americans were dumped on a street in town and left to follow the yellow arrows, but we lost them. We did find a highway at the edge of town which intersected with a path that led us up and down the rolling Oregon-like hills. The freeway rolled away from us.

What a pleasure to walk under the arcade of trees. We ambled. No huffing and puffing. Walking on the flat was easy, but the hills soon begin to undulate.

Two days of steep uphill walks toughened our legs. We strode with ease and enjoyed our conversation. Did we make good time? Yes, but we chose not to rush to the front of the pack.

How many windmills do you see?

We rolled over the hills. But WOW! What a surprise! The windmills poked above the hilltops. The energy from windmills provide ten percent of Spain's power.  When traveling by air across Spain, I saw the windmills dotting the tops of hills and mountains all over Spain. The claim that Spanish companies lead the global market in wind power is very impressive. We passed a very large windmill plant  situated  beside the highway near a city and, also, sighted the very long trucks that transport them to their site.

"On one record day, March 4, 2008, wind gusts sweeping the country provided 28 percent of the country’s total electricity."

Sadly, many young men leave the area because of lack of employment opportunities. Now, women rake the crops in the fields of Galicia. Today, 75% of the female population is employed on the farms and in the cities. Traditionally and understandably, the women are seen as quite independent.

I shared the path with a tractor by stepping up into the weeds. Still, many farmers use carts pulled by oxen for farm work. Many other farm jobs are also done by hand. As I strolled in the midst of the fields and farmyards, I felt sorry for the people whizzing by on the freeway who would not have a chance to wave to the woman in the field or say hola to the man on the tractor. 

Crops of potatoes, collards, turnips and other vegetables were ready for harvest as we passed the farms. Some gardens were obviously for the use of families while others were large enough to help feed a village. These staple foods become the base for special dishes like Caldo gallego, a regional soup. Delicious.

An old horreo

Old and new granaries speckle the landscape.

The older granaries traditionally housed all grains and vegetables to ripen and hold until eaten.

Traditionally they are made of granite, elevated on legs with rodent proof soffits, and timber or granite side panels. The roof is usually tiled and there is a small cross at one (and possibly) both ends. Access is gained by either, swing doors at the narrow ends, or the removal of the wooden side panels.

The new granaries stand proudly by the roads to welcome all to Galicia and announce to all that Galicia is unique. Just one of the ways tourism promotes the countryside of Galicia.

Greetings rang out to us as one last push up  to the top of an "undulation" brought us to Ferreiros and a stop for a cold drink.

My trek for the day ended here. We walked over to Casa Cruceiro to delve into another three course meal with wine. Snooze time for me. Two of us headed to Pousada de Portomarin, our hotel in Portomarin. There was a pool. The blueness of the water glistened at the bottom of the 100 steps to the pool. So, I read my book The Angels' Game." Bar exam gal and I meandered down to a grocery store to pick up cheese, meat, bread and drinks. I settled on the terrace and shared my bounty with anyone passing by. Later I carried my leftovers up to a gathering in one of the rooms. The easy chatter back and forth with new friends lulled my body enough to head off for a good night's sleep. 

Tomorrow I walk alone.