I had a lovely day in Porto preparing for the trek — a return to some favourite spots that Jake and I had visited. Bifanas at Texca Taberna, and another visit to Jardim do Morro to watch the sunset and applaud. The hill itself was fenced off for restoration, but I noticed that didn’t stop people from enjoying the experience. They found space where they could; I ended up going higher, behind the hill and in front of the Monastery of Serra do Pilar.
I met an awesome German couple and we had a great chat about our journeys. Over a beer, I learned that they were travelling for months in a campervan, doing Spain and Portugal in an anticlockwise fashion — and they’d even been in Seville at the same time Jake and I were! It was another glorious sunset, and I was very appreciative of the company. It was time to head back to the hotel, as the next day was a big one.
Camino Day 1 – Porto to Póvoa de Varzim – 38km
I was up and rested, had a decent breakfast, and made a few cheese and ham rolls that I snuck out for the walk. The official start of the trek is at Sé Cathedral, but since I’m just doing my own walk without the shells or the pilgrim passport, I decided to begin at the Ponte Luís I bridge.
The day would require me to walk a total of 38 km — an estimated 9 hours carting my 18 kg backpack and 7 kg day bag. It was a slow start. I stopped every few kilometres to adjust my backpack to fit me properly. I finally had it perfect, and then set off at a cracking pace.
The first few hours were relatively easy — taking in the coastal sights and pushing on into some pretty decent headwinds. I was about halfway along when the aches kicked in, as expected. No real pain, just the challenge of a pack march. I was focused and in the zone for the last stretch when disaster struck.
A family was coming up from the beach as I was huffing along the boardwalk. The little kids were mucking about and one of them fully collected me in the back of the legs. My focus shifted immediately from walking to trying not to crush the kid as I went down. Fortunately, he was quick and agile and scampered out of the way — unlike me, as I fell like a redwood. In an effort to avoid landing on him, I twisted awkwardly and tried to land on my backpack. Mostly a successful landing… aside from a twisted ankle and a very sore hip.
The parents were very apologetic and quick to help, and the poor boy was crying. I tried to brush it off and keep going, but I couldn’t take a step on my right leg without pain. With an hour left to go, I wasn’t going to make it to Póvoa. The dad helped me about 100 metres up to a road where they kindly organised an Uber to take me the rest of the way.
I was in a bit of a daze — very fatigued and not in the frame of mind to argue. I arrived at the hotel and hobbled inside. Someone carried my backpack (thanks, whoever that was), and I checked in and got to my room, where I just had enough energy to shower before passing out.
Camino Day 2 – Póvoa de Varzim to Esposende – 22km
I’d woken a few times overnight and decided I’d see how I felt in the morning — whether a doctor visit was in order or if I could even walk properly.
In the morning I tested the leg and, surprisingly, it was actually alright. I’d rested it for a full 12 hours by then. I made it to breakfast fine, made a few more cheeky cheese and ham rolls, and decided I’d give the day my best shot. It was practically half the distance of Day 1, so I felt confident.
I made it to Esposende by mid-afternoon. It had been a hot day with minimal wind, and I’d obviously changed my gait due to the dodgy leg. I arrived with some brutal blisters and was glad that during the day I came to the conclusion that, no matter how much I wanted to cart the bag, I couldn’t sacrifice my immediate wellbeing. I organised luggage transfer for my backpack for the rest of the trek.
The hotel room had a bath, which I used as soon as I got sorted. I hobbled down the road for a nice dinner at A Petisqueira — tapas and cook-your-own chorizo — half of which I wrapped up for tomorrow’s leg.
Not quite the start I pictured. I assumed the struggle would set in about halfway through the journey… but them’s the breaks. I’ll see how I feel tomorrow — there’s always the option of a bus if anything feels too awful. At least I’ll be 18 kg lighter.
Tomorrow: Viana do Castelo.
