Porto to O Cebreiro - September 5, 2024

In September 2022 I walked 128 kilometres from Baiona to Santiago de Compostela with five friends. My first Camino took place along the Portuguese Coastal Way. One of those friends, Giulia and I planned that pilgrimage as a retirement gift to ourselves. I enjoyed the first experience so much that when she suggested doing it again, I agreed. So two years later, three of those same friends, Giulia, her husband John, Carla, and I packed our bags and landed in Porto on September 5, 2024. This time we walked the last 162 kilometres from O Cebreiro to Santiago along the French Way.

It was sunny and pleasant when we arrived in Porto but got cloudy and overcast as we crossed over to Spain. We arrived in O Cebreiro, a quaint hamlet in Galicia, late in the afternoon. Our driver dropped us in the middle of, what seemed, the only road. Looking around I felt that had we arrived in a horse-drawn carriage and dressed in 18th or 19th-century garb, we’d have fitted right in. One would think we’d easily find our hotel on a road that spanned about 200 hundred metres long, but the sky chose to shower us at that exact moment. We dragged our luggage bumping and rattling on the wet cobblestones down a flight of rugged stone steps to Meson Carolo, a restaurant pub. Here our enquiries led us to another restaurant back up the same staircase a few paces uphill from where we started. I imagined pilgrims from times long gone, lifting their bundles--no wheelies back then--on these same steps, tired and badly in need of rest.

While Giulia and Carla went inside the restaurant to register us for the night, I walked over to the side of the building and snapped a picture of a pilgrim’s statue in front of the familiar yellow shell--painted like sun rays pointed sideways-- and the arrow guiding towards Santiago. They brought back memories of my walk two years ago and how these Camino markers had guided us all the way to Praza do Obradoiro, the massive square in front of the Santiago Cathedral or Catedral Basilica de Santiago de Compostela. I felt an odd sensation in my gut, a mixture of anticipation, excitement and something else… this feeling like there was still a lot I haven’t unpacked from my previous Camino.

After Giulia and Carla completed our check-in process, they returned with an employee… and not a moment too soon. John and I had been waiting outside, and I’d glanced at my Apple watch which displayed 9 degrees Celsius. I’d hugged myself for warmth, dressed as I was in a T-shirt and hoodie, more suited to late-teen temperatures than the damp blustery O Cebreiro weather. 

The woman nodded briefly at us and led the way across the road to a two-storey stone house which seemed to rise up like an extension of the cobblestones. In fact most houses here are quaintly hobbit-like and ancient, especially the round huts with thatched roofs which, I found out later, are called pallozas. These have been part of the local terrain and inhabited by the villagers for over 1,000 years right up to the 1960s. Had we arrived earlier in the day, we might have been able to enter one of these pallozas, some of which now serve as museums to showcase the life of the villagers when they had inhabited these structures.

My room was spartan but clean. I saw some paper on a small desk that stood underneath the only window. Upon inspection, I found instructions from the tour company and a luggage tag related to the transfer of the bags to the next hotel and thereafter. I immediately tagged my suitcase. Then I refreshed my appearance, grabbed my Pashmina shawl, and went downstairs to meet my friends for dinner. 

The group decided to eat at Meson Carolo where earlier, an employee or owner had been friendly and helpful in giving us directions. In truth, the choices were quite limited, but the food did turn out decent and reasonably priced. After dinner we strolled through the village. We headed towards the church, Santa María do Cebreiro, at the top of the road, but it was closed. It would have made for an interesting tour as this church is believed to be the oldest in the French Way route of the Camino de Santiago. Carla was sorely disappointed at not being able to go inside. As for me, I felt relieved because I was tired, but now I realize we have missed an opportunity to see and touch history. For more information about this chapel, read what Rick Steves wrote about a local miracle and related artifacts housed here.

By now the darkening skies and the misty dampness shut down any further thoughts of exploring. Most places would have closed by this time, so we turned in early. The first thing I did when I got back to my room was to shower. I was pleasantly surprised by the hot water which warmed and relaxed me. Then I wrote in my journal even as I started to feel drowsy. I expected to fall asleep quickly, but alas, despite the jet lag and fatigue, sleep eluded me most of that night. Instead, my mind raced through the day’s events. I wondered what lay in store for me over the next eight days. Already this Camino seemed to blur with my previous Camino like a continuous experience. Perhaps the sense of unfinished business I’ve felt before would resolve itself at the end of this walk.