{"id":4575,"date":"2014-03-07T19:45:44","date_gmt":"2014-03-07T18:45:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/?p=4575"},"modified":"2014-03-07T19:45:44","modified_gmt":"2014-03-07T18:45:44","slug":"portuguese-way-santiago-coast-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/portuguese-way-santiago-coast-3\/","title":{"rendered":"An interlude between storms: The Portuguese Way to Santiago by the Coast (3)."},"content":{"rendered":"

An interlude between storms: The Portuguese Way to Santiago by the Coast (3)<\/strong><\/strong><\/h1>\n
\"Rivers<\/a>

Rivers filled up quickly clear and cold.<\/p><\/div>\n

Viana do Castelo to<\/strong> Vila Praia de \u00c2ncora<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Respite between Heavy Showers<\/h2>\n

I left the Youth Hostel in Viana do Castelo well rested. \u00a0I am always astonished at how effectively a night’s sleep – no matter the quality – restores a weary, aching body. \u00a0This third morning of my Camino had the additional surprise of being sunny. \u00a0I drank in the light, rejoicing in the sparkles and reflections in the river as I looked out from the window of my room. \u00a0My clothes had dried overnight.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/a>

A sunny moment as morning traffic pours over the bridge into Viana.<\/p><\/div>\n

The almost constant rain of the first two days had helped some blisters to emerge on the top of the toes on my right foot. \u00a0I treated these with iodine and cotton wool from the first-aid box in the Hostel as I ate some yoghurts for breakfast before setting off, once again at 9.oo am. \u00a0This is a bit late for a day on the Camino. \u00a0I like to leave at daybreak and cover a dozen or so kilometres by mid-day. \u00a0However, on the first days of a Camino I am still adjusting. finding again my natural rhythm. \u00a0This rhythm is written within me but in “normal” life smothered by the demands of \u00a0“civilised” society which has a very different clockwork and is less dependent on bodily energy, being carbon-fuel addicted. \u00a0The simplicity of the Camino allows this inner rhythm, the symphony of body, mind and spirit to find its own harmony through walking, silence and prayer.<\/p>\n

\"Viana<\/a>

Viana station seemed to be planted in the middle of the camino.<\/p><\/div>\n

I left Viana, failing to follow the yellow arrows, especially around the station. \u00a0I think I should have walked right through it, or under it. \u00a0The city is small but my route wound round and round as few roads seemed to go north. \u00a0None of this helped me get into my stride and I feared that these dry hours were unlikely to last. \u00a0When I caught sight of the coast with the white of the breaking waves roaring like an airplane breaking on the tarmac I felt as if I had escaped from a prison. \u00a0The wide horizon was stormy but opened up my lungs and my breathing deeply told me that I had not been recollected on leaving the Youth Hostel: I had been too eager to get on my way, to fix my blisters, to find the camino and had forgotten to enter into a contemplative state, to be just where I was, to be aware that the present, each step, was enough and be conscious of Presence. \u00a0I’d forgotten to set off with an act of trust in God and a centring of my day. Wide horizons usually awaken me.<\/p>\n

\"Oranges,<\/a>

Oranges, out of reach, but a sea and a horizon which touch me.<\/p><\/div>\n

Breathing deeply and walking each step very consciously, I began to relax into the day. \u00a0This is a very simple Zen exercise I had learned from one of Thich Nhat Hanh’s books “Peace is every step.”<\/a>\u00a0 I am happy that all religions can rub shoulders today because, although I am Catholic by birth, and know the tradition pretty well ( it is where I belong), my own spiritual path has been much enriched by my encounter with other faiths. \u00a0Christianity, though, has many depths and I am forever reminded of this in Spain and Portugal by the public religious rituals and symbols found in every locality. \u00a0No sooner had I gazed over the Atlantic than the path turned down a little lane which skirted a Quinta with an entrance adorned with an image of the crucified Christ looking down upon the souls in Purgatory who appear to have angels helping them to leave, possibly as they had just helped me to leave Viana.<\/p>\n

\"Vivid<\/a>

Vivid depiction of Purgatory.<\/p><\/div>\n

Hell-fire would have been extinguished by the torrential rains of the past days and before I had gone a few more steps the south wind strengthened and began to push me along. The rain fell in huge dollops which, at first, just splat on the ground before learning to bounce. \u00a0In two hours I had covered 4 km. \u00a0There was a long way to the next albergue in Caminho on the border with Spain and I knew I had no possibility of making it by nightfall.<\/p>\n

Just down from the railway station in Areosa is an Intermarch\u00e9 supermarket in which I sheltered and bought some apples and bread which often keep me going. \u00a0When the shower passed I set off still relatively dry passing very typical little farmsteads.<\/p>\n

\"Green<\/a>

Green and grey – a coastal farm.<\/p><\/div>\n

By mid-day I was soaked through after a 10 minute shower and took refuge in a bar by the station in Carre\u00e7o where I removed my waterproofs and rearranged the padding on my blisters. \u00a0Nobody in the bar seemed at all bothered by this first-aid, just a curious glance and then back to the television. \u00a0We were in the same place but in different worlds.<\/p>\n

\"Bar<\/a>

Bar in Carre\u00e7o.<\/p><\/div>\n

Distracted by beauty.<\/h1>\n

The Camino began to wind through a eucalyptus forest with water spouting from walls and gushing along the path. \u00a0A bright yellow, “Bom Caminho” lit up the path.<\/p>\n

\"P1030802\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I had forgotten how quickly all my clothes dry out when the rain stops. \u00a0The gore-tex may let torrential rain in but it also dries out rapidly. \u00a0Showers are much easier to cope with in a day than continuous rain. \u00a0The paths which become rivers also dry up within an hour of the rain stopping, giving me intervals in which even my sandals stopped squelching.<\/p>\n

\"Water<\/a>

Water pours from a wall.<\/p><\/div>\n

There are some striking buildings on this stretch. \u00a0I love the stone of the farms:<\/p>\n

\"Stones<\/a>

Stones witness the passing of pilgrims.<\/p><\/div>\n

Also the Quintas, Portuguese estates, have a quiet elegance. \u00a0Often they have their own chapels and ornate ceramic plaques. \u00a0I tried to imagine them in the summer heat but instead decided I was privileged to be passing them in this time of storms when the greens and browns were glistening wet, which matched my own dampness and still lingers deep within me as an imprint of this camino.<\/p>\n

\"Impressive<\/a>

Impressive quinta in Afife Quinta de Cabanas<\/p><\/div>\n

The rivers swished down rocks enthusiastically and with an energy they lack in summer. \u00a0All around nature was beginning to move and offer new colours, the first dabs of Spring: mimosa and even primroses.<\/p>\n

\"mimosa<\/a>

mimosa the first flowers of spring.<\/p><\/div>\n

I pass a little mill now converted into a house. \u00a0The patio chairs are still tilted in place after the summer, unmoved by the fierce winds, awaiting the return of their occupants who may sit there toasting each passing pilgrim with vinho verde. But right now this winter has brought only five dry days out of the past 80.<\/p>\n

\"Former<\/a>

Former mill near Afife, now a second home.<\/p><\/div>\n

I have always loved sleeping beside rivers. \u00a0The constant rush of the waters must remind me of the comfort of my mum’s womb or some such profoundly comfortable moment in life. This little river was particularly cosy, even in between deep Atlantic depressions, tucking its flow among rich evergreens and huge magnolias.<\/p>\n

\"No<\/a>

No magnolia in sight in this photo! but there were big ones around.<\/p><\/div>\n

The Camino skirts the village of Afife through a eucalyptus forest and along a paved path which seems to have been there for centuries. \u00a0I love how many Caminos pass over Roman roads but these, on the Portuguese coast may be much more recent.<\/p>\n

\"The<\/a>

The camino follows an ancient paved path.<\/p><\/div>\n

At some points it was possible to look down on the sea and all along the path the roar of the breaking waves travelled up from the ocean’s edge. \u00a0The rain seemed to stop just as it reached the land as if unsure as to what this new element might imply for it. \u00a0For this I was grateful and rejoiced in walking unimpeded by water.<\/p>\n

\"Another<\/a>

Another stone path Which is too well preserved to be very old.<\/p><\/div>\n

I admired another stone path and began to find the rhythm I had been seeking at the start of the day where my stride and my heart, my breath and my spirit are one. \u00a0I remember smelling the eucalyptus when I fell and the falling was unstoppable. I recall being aware that I was going to bang my head and when I hit the stone, just above my right eye I was relieved that I was still conscious and generally unhurt. \u00a0I had just been finding peace in every step, and aware of it, when I tripped on one of the many small branches which had fallen in the storm.<\/p>\n

\"My<\/a>

My camera survived the fall. I took this photo before I stood up to see if it still worked.<\/p><\/div>\n

I was, however, shaken and aware of my vulnerability. [ A good piece on vulnerability in this excellent blog\u00a0http:\/\/teilhard.com\/2013\/08\/30\/brene-brown-the-power-of-vulnerability\/<\/a>] As age softens me and aches make me less mobile, as I forget what I am in the middle of saying and need stronger and stronger glasses, I have times when I feel like the little antelope with a limp when the herd is being chased by a lion. \u00a0Some may think my trust in God is a sign of sanctity: in reality it is a great comfort.<\/p>\n

A resting place and a night in a hotel.<\/strong><\/h2>\n

The rain became more persistent as the day wore on. \u00a0Once again the path became a small torrent filling my sandals with gritty sand which was difficult to dislodge with my usual toe-tap on the ground. \u00a0Also my blisters required re-padding. \u00a0Then I turned a corner, the rain stopped and before me was a lovely lavoudeiro, one of the places where clothes used to be washed by the local women.<\/p>\n

\"Lavadouro,<\/a>

Lavadouro, fonte de Crasto,
Laje\/Barreiros<\/p><\/div>\n

I loved this spot, perhaps because it had a little stone bench and I could treat my feet easily. \u00a0Possibly I was listening to the conversations of the washer-women from the past\u00a0as they scrubbed their laundry\u00a0or that the spring had a sacred Celtic significance, but probably I was just very relieved to sit down after several hours of walking.<\/p>\n

As I approached \u00c2ncora I saw that another huge downpour was inevitable and on this early February evening the day darkened rapidly. \u00a0I began to wonder about where to stay the night as the path took me through meadows and over streams.<\/p>\n

\"Rain<\/a>

Rain on its way as I take the Camino around the village of \u00c2ncora.<\/p><\/div>\n

There is a river which separates \u00c2ncora from its sea-side beach. \u00a0The Camino takes a turn which the caminante must heed in spite of the Church straight ahead appearing to be the most direct way to the beach. \u00a0The river, however, has no crossing point at the church and the deviation is by an attractive little path to an old bridge.<\/p>\n

\"The<\/a>

The river in \u00c2ncora<\/p><\/div>\n

When the rain started I realised I could go no further and dodged into a local shop to ask where I might find a room for the night. \u00a0It was a Chinese Bazaar and when I asked if they knew where I might get a bed for the night I was taken through the shop and offered a huge inflatable bed for only 10 euros. \u00a0I decided to navigate to the sea-front prepared to pay whatever I had to for a place to shelter and to sleep. \u00a0The first I spotted was the Albergeria Quim Barreiros and that did just fine although it was costly. \u00a0The room had all that was needed to dry out and, moreover, a fine sea view.<\/p>\n

\"View<\/a>

After the storm: Morning view from my room in the Albergueria in Vila de Praia de \u00c2ncora.<\/p><\/div>\n

I \u00a0had a television but 10 minutes zapping was sufficient to glean that the next storm would pass by that very night. \u00a0And it did. I broke a bit of bread, ate two apples, showered and went to sleep leaving the sea and the rain to sort out their battle.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

An interlude between storms: The Portuguese Way to Santiago by the Coast (3) Viana do Castelo to Vila Praia de \u00c2ncora Respite between Heavy Showers I left the Youth Hostel in Viana do Castelo well rested. \u00a0I am always astonished … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[1540,15,1514,1538],"class_list":["post-4575","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-heavy-showers","tag-spain","tag-vila-praia","tag-youth-hostel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4575","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4575"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4575\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4575"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4575"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/the-raft-of-corks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4575"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}