We’ve arrived in Salceda, a fraction over 25km from Melide and their bedbugs. The new albergue was fine until Melide decided to party until 3 o’clock in the morning. Mum and I tossed and turned all night until we finally gave up hope of sleep at 6:30, packed our bags and left.

It was dark, seriously dark, deep pools of deep, deep darkness into which we plopped, walking poles grating as we strove to balance on the unfamiliar surface. We had a good 30 minutes of this until the sky began to brighten with the early shades of dawn, by which point we were well into the forest and comfortably far away from the bedbugs.

The rest of the morning walk was pretty uneventful, mostly forest tracks with plenty of minor roads. We stopped in a quiet little bar attached to a German run albergue. We’d stopped here in April whilst the albergue was still in construction. The guy running it with his wife was a really decent chap and the coffee and toast was really welcome.

I left yesterday’s blog on the unresolved matter of a desired pasta arabiatta. As it turned out at the suggestion of a lovely Italian lady we made our own last night at the albergue with some left over pasta and some garlic, onion, tomatoes, stale bread and a €3 bottle of vino tinto. It was one of the best meals that we’ve had on this or indeed any Camino. Note for any future trips: cook.

Back to today. We stopped briefly in Arzua for a second coffee. Arzua is an ok sort of place, best remembered for it’s colourful cycle hoops and recycling bins. This time at least it seemed to be the point at which all the many thousands of pilgrims who presumably started in Sarria appeared with their fat little legs, rotund bodies and tiny little day packs.

The rest of the journey was processional and deeply, deeply dispiriting. They walked abreast in large groups, waddling as they chatted which made it difficult to pass them. Thankfully the route undulated, not by much but the slightest incline was enough to fracture the groups sufficiently to allow mum and I to pass. I’m sure that I should be more charitable but it’s not easy when the path is dominated by these groups.

To add insult to injury, large rotund cousins of the walking variety kept charging past on mountain bikes. Out of control and out of the saddle at the slightest incline these idiots were a real pain in the bum.

Thankfully as we drew closer to Salceda the groups disappeared, presumably dispersing for the day to various bars and albergues along the route.

Shortly before finishing we passed a French cyclist and his Spanish cyclist girlfriend attempting to fix a puncture. They’d been at it for half an hour before we arrived and I’ve no doubt they’d still be trying to get the tyre off now if we hadn’t turned up. They were a delightful couple, had started in Roncesvalles some 800km earlier and expressed exactly the same sentiments to mum as I’ve just written. They’d had a great time but the character of the experience had changed irrevocably in Sarria and they too were very dispirited.

Our albergue is very nicely, bright and welcoming. Unfortunately they don’t do food so we’ve walked across to the albergue where we stayed in April.

They have a lovely restaurant but it’s not open until 7 and it’s only 4 o’clock now so we’ll pop back to ours (it’s currently 35 C in the shade and it’s 500m from albergue to albergue so we don’t undertake the journey lightly, but the food was excellent last time so we’ll be brave 🤗).

Mum is chatting happily in French to a Spanish lady who we passed repeatedly today. It seems that she’s staying here. They’re busy swapping notes; she’s astonished at mum’s rendition of the story of the Korean pilgrims 😊.

That’s it for now.

Buen Camino