94km Ponferrada – Sarria
We were chatting for ages with a Canadian cyclist and didn’t leave the albergue until 8:30am, half an hour after the time you are supposed to leave.
We head breakfast at a bar round the corner so we weren’t on the road properly until after 9:00am.
I felt tired that morning. We passed a wonderful castle.
Most of the day was on the road or alongside the motorway; it was pretty grim for us cyclists and must have been even more so for the walkers. About every 7km or so there was a small town or village that where we were diverted off the motorway which gave some respite from the motorway.
At one village we stopped as Iain spotted walnuts on the ground. We jumped off the bike and ran round filling a bag full of walnuts much to the annoyance of the red squirrels that were above us in the tree canopy. They tasted great; you could crush the shells in your bare hands. We had lunch at the next village along and then we began the climb…
The climb was in three distinct parts:
Part 1: Vega de Valcarce – 8km later at a bend in the road
It was really steep. I felt ill as I’d eaten too much food at lunch. It was hard to breath and the pain in my legs was telling me to stop but we carried on. It was only grit and determination that got us to the bend in the road some 8km later where we waited for Edward. Thankfully it was a cooler day than the previous ones with a few spots of light rain here and there.
Part 2: 8km passed Vega de Valcarce – La Laguna de Castilla
This stretch was even steeper than the first and I think the steepest mountain climb to date. We passed some walkers on the road and then some mountain bikers who were pushing their bikes up the hill. We cycled passed them all huffing and puffing to get some oxygen round my screaming muscles. Then Iain was nearly sick and we had to get off the bike and push it up the hill to have some recovery time. Iain looked ill, his face was a horrible mix of red and grey. A couple of meters of recovery and we were back cycling again. Some yellow graffiti on the ground told us it was 1,500m to a bar. I think this was supposed to be encouraging but at the incline we were doing and the pain in every muscle, 1,500m sounded a long, long way.
The views looking down and across the valley were beautiful. For the last 500m the steepness decreased and it felt much easy although we were still climbing. We arrived exhilarated at the bar and I shouted a bravo at one of the walkers who joined the path with us. We met two Aussies at the bar who had got a taxi to the top of the mountain and were now taking their time walking down!
Part 3: La Laguna – El Cebreiro de Castilla
After chatting to the pilgrims at the bar and waiting for Edward we cycled on. There was no time to stop for coffee, we hadn’t reached the top yet!
The last section of the mountain climb was the easiest of the three. The mist (actually it was probably cloud we were so high up) began to roll in; we were cycling in the clouds. The drizzle of rain was more constant now but it was far too hot for waterproofs. We were on the ridge of the mountain pass with a valley below us on either side that was partially visible beneath the cloud. Out of the mist and cloud we could suddenly see a church, we had reached the summit. The church was a cove of tranquility; it was from here that we picked up the largest and most elaborate stamp for our credentials. To my surprise there was a small settlement at the top of the mountain, there were a few shops and an albergue and several weary looking pilgrims. We bumped into the Spanish couple in the caravan who we’d met at the Iron Cross.
After this there were a few more ups and downs, the rain had got heavier and we all had our waterproofs on. These ups were nothing to compare with what we had just done but they felt hard given the wet weather and the mountain we had just conquered.
At Alto do San Roque (1,270m high) there was a huge bronze statue of a pilgrim fighting to walk against the wind; someone had stuck a plaster to his heel. We had yet another summit after this one, Alto do Poio (1,335m). Here we stopped for hot coffee in the albergue. The place had an après ski feel with log fires throwing a warm orange glow across the room. It was hard to leave this place and venture out into the wet conditions. Along the way we passed a walker on crutches, he’d made it to the top of the summit despite crutches and the wet weather, at the top he didn’t even stop for a coffee, he just carried on.
As we cycled downhill on the road in the wind and rain we heard a voice from above us full of happiness and feeling yelled, “Buen Camino”. It was a pilgrim walker on the Camino that was slightly above the road. All I saw was a man with a big beard and glasses with a huge smile. It spurred me on so much; I yelled “Buen Camino” back and beeped our horn as we cycled into the rain that was getting heavier by the second.
The wind was really strong, especially on the hair pin bends; it was quite scary at times when we had to cycle hard to gain any distance on the downhill such was the force of the wind against us. The rain got heavier. We passed a monastery building at Samos, even in the rain it looked stunning, we stopped for a moment to take in the surroundings and the scallop shell railings on the road!
I felt a sense of relief when we reached Sarria, I was all ready for a reviving hot shower when I saw the “full” sign. We stood there dripping rain water onto the floor of the hostel, there were no staff to ask if there was another hostel nearby and we appeared to be invisible to the other pilgrims as they continued chatting or reading their papers. I took a photo of a map hanging in the hostel in the hope we could use it to find another place to stay. Edward fired up his sat nav and waited for it to connect with the satellite in the sky. We even contemplated camping for a few seconds but the thought of our non-waterproof tenet stopped that thought before it became a real option.
We wondered up to where a group of pilgrims stood and found a sign for another albergue and an all important yellow arrow. We followed the direction of the signs and the first albergue we came to was not the one the sign referred to; the lady inside was also not very welcoming so we cycled on. We arrived at the albergue the sign referred to. It was wonderful, an old house that had been converted into an albergue. The bathroom was like something out of a luxury hotel with antique green tiles on the walls. There was an outhouse in the courtyard area where a real fire was lit and free drinks were laid out for thirsty pilgrims. The drinks were some kind of local homebrew that looked pretty noxious! It’s amazing how up beat you feel when you know that a hot shower awaits you and you have a bed for the night.
That evening we walked about ten paces in the rain to the tapas bar next door. My trousers got soaked in just these ten steps. We bumped into David the Spanish mountain biker so the four of us had dinner together in the bar. David initiated us to the local Galician drink that was a bright yellow liquid that looked vile but didn’t taste too bad and left a very warm feeling in your stomach!
That evening we all sat in the outhouse by the fire with the other pilgrims. We tried some of the local home brew which was pretty vile. When I was told that one of the bottles was only for men I was more than happy not to have any. I was even more glad I didn’t have any after seeing Iain’s reaction to trying it! We sat by the fire, ate walnuts and listened to the other Spanish pilgrims who were rapidly getting more and more drunk.