Caldas De Reis

Trekking Pontevedra to Caldas de Reis was a total slog. Like, literally — as grandgirl, Lydia, likes to say. It was a sopping, soaking, drip-dropping immersion experience, start to finish. We enjoyed perhaps 30 minutes of reprieve from the rain all day long.

It’s dark here at 8:00 am. The sun rises around 8:30. We usually leave around 9:00 am, but with the rain, everything was muted. We left town by way of the Cathedral, which was a still vision. The rose window has a scalloped shell, the sign of the Camino.

The inclines today were less intense, gratefully. We trekked a lot of hard-packed gravel paths. Also grateful for no thunder, lightning, or flash flooding, the thought of which clouded my mind.

In town, storm drains bubbled up on the streets, running to ditches near to overflowing. As we trekked on into the countryside, every stream was gushing. Waterfalls were roaring. Puddles ran over to ditches flowing with fury.

For most of the first half of the trek, our feet were dry — but that was it. Every inch of fabric we wore was soaked through. About 6 or 7 miles in, we hit a trough of water across the trail that did me in.

For the remainder, I squished on every step. It wasn’t long before the Hubs suffered the same fate. Everyone was squishing. I wondered how many blisters we’d have to deal with at day’s end.

Soon after we’d passed that flooded area, an older lady fell and lacerated her head. Our trek-mates were a bit behind us and stopped to help. She wasn’t able to get up immediately, which was concerning.

The group she was with lacked first aid supplies of any kind. Fortunately, our trek-mates could assist. When we saw her later on in the day, she was doing remarkably well. Whew!

One of the ways we entertain ourselves is by singing. Today it was marching jingles, military style, with our own form of humor. Someone starts off, “I don’t know but I’ve been told… “

I’ve had a lot of fun with this. “I don’t know but I’ve been told / We go big or we go home!” Sound off (1, 2) Sound off (3, 4) Sound off (1, 2, 3, 4) One, two … three, four.

Dodging puddles left and right / Theres’s no end to rain in sight! Sound off …

You get the idea, eh?

My legs felt heavy today. It wasn’t anything in particular; not my knee, my feet, my back. Just sluggishness. In retrospect, skipping dinner last night in a state of fatigue was unwise. I was trekking on fumes.

This trek was relatively remote. In the rain, there wasn’t much we could do for a break. About four hours in, we finally came upon a place to pull off for lunch. We didn’t hesitate.

They were doing brisk business, and there was no table service. You went in to order, picked up your food at another counter, and brought it to your table. We were delighted to get one of the last tables under cover, even if it was in the garage.

We hung our rain jackets wherever we could find a spot for them to drain. I sat my pack on the wood box, and wedged my trekking poles in by a big dog bowl of Alpo.

My menu selection was just okay, but it was fuel, and I was grateful. We were all relieved to unload our packs and sit a bit out the weather.

We passed quite a few cornfields and a lot of vineyards today. Curiously, some small cornfields were completely laid down flat. The Hubs said they’d picked the ears off first. On a few others, the stalks were upright but chopped off several feet above the ground, just above the first ear of corn. The Hubs suspects in a frost-free climate, this helps with dry-down.

Today there were still some grapes on the vine here — green and red, both small. One stretch, we were trampling stray red grapes underfoot. I always marvel at the use of hewn granite planks to support the vines. So much granite in construction in Galicia — makes sense, given the history, culture and climate.

All day long the thing that kept me going was the promise of a rest day after we reached Caldas de Reis. This is the town of thermal waters. We’re staying at the Balneario, where there is also a spa. I’d made appointments for the following day.

It took us about 8 hours to cover 16 miles, including lunch break. Wuf! The first thing we did on arrival was fully submerse in the warm mineral pool. It smelled of sulfur and turned my cheapie travel-wedding bands a bright bronze. I didn’t care, it felt so good!

Our room is not luxurious by any stretch but does include a perfectly functional towel heating rack. Every item of wet clothing has been cycled through. It’s marvelous. Saves us a trip to the laundromat, too. So grateful.

On arrival we also received a pile of dry newspaper, with instructions to crumple and stuff into our boots. We changed the newspaper out once, amazed how well it worked! There’s a lot of rain in the forecast; I’m going to be buying or scarfing up newspapers!

We’re looking forward to not getting up early or having bags sorted and ready by 8:00 am. I’m especially looking forward to the spa appointments. The Hubs is not, by any stretch, looking forward to his spa appointment. If you know him, you know why!

We were talking about it just now, as a matter of fact. He started squirming. I mean, wiggling all over his chair. Keep in mind we’re at a thermal spa; I’ve signed us up for what should amount to luxurious thermal therapy. Also keep in mind we’ve trekked ~150 miles at this point. There’s nothing like a proper treatment to ease those aching muscle— even if he doesn’t admit to any!

I said, “It’s just like a bubble bath in your swim trunks, for crying out loud.” He said, “Exactly. I don’t know why we have to be so public about it.” I burst out laughing and couldn’t stop giggling … thus “the look.” :=)

You’ll have to check back in tomorrow to see how that turned out!

Hold hope. Keep faith. Walk your walk.

~Sincerely, Sondra