Portuguese Camino Day 5 (rest day 18 September, then Vila Praia de Ancora to Villadesuso, 19 September, 31.5 kms)
Let’s get this out there now: the 19Th was a long, long day that finished in a burst of ridiculous events. But let’s not rush the story!
Our rest day was very relaxed! There was the usual housework, a bit of shopping, a homemade lunch of chicken rolls which we bought at the the supermercado, and for which we had to purchase a veggie knife. Don’t forget that knife, it will play its part later in the story.
It was a funny kind of day because the smoke from the forest fires kept the sun away and gave everything that all-to-familiar yellow tinge, and while it was still warm, the sea was frigid. I did poke a toe in but decided that a pair of wet swimmers were too high a price for a dash into 14-degree water.
The sunsets were excellent, as was the walk along the beach. It was just as well we took this time, as the morrow turned out to be harder than we thought.
Most of the pilgrims who are in organised groups or using a planning company split the stage from Ancora to Villadesuso in two; so the peregrinos we have met moved just ten kilometres up the coast to Caminha yesterday, where they took a watertaxi to A Guarda and spent the night, before walking up the coast for 18 clicks. Most seem to have felt this was a bit of a waste, as they were left twiddling their thumbs in both places, having arrived too early. For us, it meant a huge effort, and a miscalculation in arrival time on my part, because the Minho marks the border between Portugal and Spain. Halfway across, our watches jumped forward an hour and I realised that we would be walking until nearly 5 pm (Spanish time ).
It was a great day for walking. The change had come through and the temperature was down and humidity was up. We found some forest walking and made great time to Caminha, then walked through A Guarda where we were accosted by a woman who had grown up in Bankstown before returning to her family origins.
We had known this would be a long day, but we were well and truly over it before we arrived at the oddly-named Hotel Glasgow. The path in through the one or two villages on the path had been picturesque but we had not felt motivated to stop. In the light of what transpired, we probably should have!
Our bags were there, as always, and the front desk was helpful, so we hightailed it for the lift and a hot shower. As I usually do, I pulled stuff out of my backpack as the charger plug was somewhere near the bottom, with the first aid kit and other bits and pieces. I was already down to undies and ready for the bathroom when something flew out of the bag and embedded itself in my foot. It was that bloody veggie knife, which I had wrapped in a paper napkin, rather optimistically. It had neatly dissected a vein near my big toe, and the floor began to resemble an abattoir.
So much for the first aid kit. I just yelled for Paula to grab some toilet paper and tried to compress the wound, but it was a pretty decent flow and soaked through. I hopped into the bathroom and let the excess trickle down the drain. Meanwhile Paula was cleaning up the crime scene, as hiding the evidence was more important than saving a life. This was all becoming both dramatic and ridiculous, but after five minutes without clotting, I thought I better be sensible and asked Paula to get the paramedics. The hotel staff were great and got on to the emergency services. The paramedics, faced with a language barrier and a lot of tomato sauce, overreacted like champions. They made no attempt to look at the would, but wrapped it in absorbent pads, threw me on a chair and took me downstairs. Their main concern was that I had a pair of pants to wear on the way home. Paula was highly organised and tossed phones, passports, pants and charging things into a bag. Then it was lights and sirens to Vigo and the hospital. Very exciting!
The hospital were both efficient and rational. The triage nurse said it was not serious and got me in line for a doctor. The initial injury had occurred just before five, in the ambuland inside 25 minutes, was seeing the nurse inside an hour, and the doctor before 6:30. The doctor had excellent English, trained in Bucharest and looked like a supermodel. She was astonished that so much blood had come from a knick only 3 mm across. It was “nothing”. A clean up, disinfectant and two adhesive strips and we were done.
There will be no jokes about it being just a little prick…
We rode the 30 kms back in a nice Tesla taxi and were in time for dinner — after long overdue showers. Dinner at the hotel was cheap and delicious. We had three courses, a bottle of wine, and I started with Galicia’s pain relief of choice, local Estrella. In the background, traditional Galician musicians were torturing bagpipes for what looked like a Probus group. I wouldn’t be surprised there were casualties. Well, at least the ambos know their way to the hotel.
Amazingly, we both slept like the dead and woke up without hangovers. I will walk in shoes today, but that’s because of the blister on my right toe, and not the slight wound on the top of the foot that could have been a lot worse!
