Monday dawned bright and clear. James had a rough night and was feeling worse for wear and not looking forward to a 25km walk with a hangover.
I was more concerned with the heavy strapping I was applying to my right ankle, and the bruising that was developing across both. I got the distinction that today was going to be a very long day, and I was right.
After toast and jam for breakfast (and James muttering about the lack of huevos), our young hostess dropped us back into Portomarin, swathed in a sea of cloud, and we began what was essentially a day of climbing. For 26km, we climbed. Hill after ridge after rise. The vistas have been amazing and the weather not too hot, so it’s been great walking weather. The only downside of today’s leg was the significant amount of time walking along the side of the highway.
So Diego’s hangover was replaced by some vicious bites – he must have disturbed a nest or something, because the backs of his calves are angry. And he is sore.
My Achilles had me at quarter pace and we limped into Palas de Rei with an hour and a half left of siesta. I needed the pharmacy, so we waited (we had to catch another taxi to our accommodation. Go figure). But armed with bright green compression bandage, and a pair of sandals I’d be eyeing out at home bought for a fifth of the price, and we were off to another stunning farmstead (with pool) the most beautiful food we’ve had yet and really interesting conversion with a couple from Boonville, Wisconsin.
Tomorrow is a 28km (read 30+ km day), and it’s going to be tough. Hills, and injured feet are never a fun prospect.
Let’s see how we go. We’ll pass halfway tomorrow.
But for now, good night.