It’s 21;42 and I’m feeling tired. We walked a reasonable distance, a little under 29km which although on cobblestones for much of the way didn’t prove to be a problem in the Adidas Supernova trainers. I’m switching daily between the gore-tex and original, i.e. non-gore-tex versions and it really is like walking on marshmallows, always assuming that walking on marshmallows is exactly like walking in Adidas Supernova trainers. Bit of a logical dead-end but who cares. I’m quite sure that if in fact I were walking on marshmallows, it would be exactly like the experience I’m having walking in these Adidas supernova shoes. Perhaps if this were a Bond film I’d be accused of product placement.

Anyhow, shortly after leaving last night’s albergue we passed over a lovely old bridge.

It was early so the mist lay gently on the surface of the water.

Some ducks were disappearing and re-emerging in the mist. Though no cows were in the immediate vicinity, it was all quite bucolic though later some cheerful goats made an appearance.

We stopped for prosciutto ham sandwiches some 6km after starting and again roughly 6km further on, this time in a well signposted bar.

Outside the bar appeared a small group of little children all dressed alike in cute grey-blue uniforms. Walking in line with their hands on the shoulders on the child directly in front of them they made a most fetching sight.

We stopped for agua con gas in my I case and some fairly dodgy crisps in the form of little footballs before heading off.

We passed through a very attractive grove of eucalyptus trees though no sign of any koala bears.

Shortly after we came across our first proper marker post …

… so clearly we’re well on our way.

Here’s another image of the steps the Portuguese go to to cover up imperfections in their plastering. (Anyone spot the pun?)

Tom was struggling a bit today but generally but strode manfully on. Juanita and Dorothy were.clearly in no difficulty and since I was walking on marshmallows it was all going rather well.

We stopped for lunch around 1:30

and I cheerfully polished off the menu pelegrino for ¢6.50. It came highly recommended by the waiter who spoke pretty decent English and consisted of some fatty lamb, a leg of chicken, some interestingly chunky chorizo and what looked like giant spinach alongside a couple of fatty potatoes. Having been blessed with no sense of smell and somewhat ambiguous taste buds I thoroughly enjoyed the meal. Dorothy in contrast regretted it on sight and left all of the meat and most of the vegetables. There have been many occasions when a distinctly original sense of taste has proved very useful.

A somewhat large chap who hailed from Madrid and had started in Porto yesterday too also had the menu peregrino and it seems also thoroughly enjoyed the meal so at least two of us have a similar sense of taste. We chatted across the table about Brexit, on which we seemed to be unanimous in our surprise and distaste at the mess we’re in but c’est la vie.

The climate here is somewhat in advance of the UK and local gardeners are busy getting their brassicas installed.

This part of Portugal is clearly pretty wealthy and we passed through a number of areas with large houses on substantial plots of land which would fetch many millions of pounds in the Home Counties. We saw very little of the poverty that we saw so frequently on the Camino Frances. It all seems very different.

Dorothy and I tend to take a fairly relaxed view of these Caminos, stopping for bocaddilos and coffee at pretty much every opportunity but Tom and Juanita were eager to finish so some 8km from Barcelos after agua con gas they headed off while Dorothy and I chatted lazily and enjoyed the warm sunshine.

The last seven or eight kilometres passed quickly and with the help of maps.me and the Dutch KML files of all of the Caminos we quickly and easily found our accommodation for the night.

As I write, Dorothy is asleep beside me following a very pleasant meal in a local restaurant with good wine and an attentive waitress who used to be a nurse in Toulouse, spoke excellent French with an accent that even I could understand and didn’t have to repress a snigger when I replied in like manner. Unlike the actual French whom I’ve long given up trying to speak to in what I think is their native language and which they clearly think is some sort of bastardised Martian equivalent.

Barcelos is an attractive place straddling what appears to be a fairly major river with the newer area on the southern bank and the original and clearly much older section on the northern side of the river.

Our room is very comfortable but there are no washing facilities. We have two of everything so it’s not a problem for tomorrow and indeed it wouldn’t prove to be a problem for me if our clothes saw their last wash yesterday but others might complain. Hopefully we’ll find somewhere to wash our clothes tomorrow. If not, I’ll walk six paces behind everyone.

Buen Camino