Day 32: Lestedo to Melide (Wendy)

Last night, we stayed in another converted set of buildings, this time an old rectory. It was a gorgeous space, with a back library that had floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the back meadow where we enjoyed our post-walk drinks and snacks. 

Our bedroom had a tile tub as big as a baptismal font where I took my last Epsom salt bath. The attentive, friendly staff, two young people named Julia and Humberto, took great care to make sure we were comfortable, including opening the restaurant at 6:30 this morning so we could have a delicious breakfast before we headed out. 

However, this was clearly a hotel, albeit one that caters to pilgrims. We missed the warm, homey love that the owners from Casa do Regó showed us the night before, including the communal meal they made for us. As delicious as a menu del día might be—and last night’s was amazing, including gluten-free bread and good wine—it’s never quite as satisfying as those homemade meals shared around a big table with other pilgrims.

After eggs, toasts, and coffee, we were on the road by 7:00 this morning. With sunrise not until almost 9:00, we spent a good hour and a half walking in the dark through the woods and little hamlets. At Casa do Regó, we’d spent most of the evening talking with a couple from Texas. They could not fathom why we would regularly choose to walk in the dark. Other than occasionally missing a turn and needing to backtrack a bit, we’ve had no trouble at all walking with my headlamp before the sun comes up. In fact, we prefer it.

Walking in the dark gives us time alone on the trail. Most peregrinos do not start out as early as we do so even when we are starting on stage, we can usually count on seeing less than a handful of people before sunrise. 

It also gives us this sense of sneaking in some bonus kilometers. When we set out in the dark, we usually stop after a couple hours to have a first or second coffee and a little bit of food. This ritual makes it feel like that’s the “real” start of the day and we feel very clever for already having walked 8 kms or so before the day starts. This isn’t logical of course, but we both independently identified this sense of “pulling a sneaky one” with this approach.

Finally, at one or more points in our walk, we always stop, turn the headlamp off, and look up at the sky. There is no white noise, no light pollution. Just us and the stars, maybe a bit of moon, maybe some clouds. This morning, there was an owl hooting in the distance. There’s a thrilling sense of aliveness that I get from being in a dark and silent woods far from home in what feels like the middle of the night. When and why else would I ever find myself standing on a strange path in a strange wood in a foreign country with no human sound or light around? It’s thrilling and frankly, one of my favorite parts of the day.

And on a day like today, it meant we got in almost two hours of walking before the rain started. Bonus, bonus, bonus!

Today was a shorter walk, only 20 km. After walking about 5 hours (with a couple stops) through the requisite arboreal tunnels, past meadows (where an especially dedicated sheepdog came up on the path to bark ferociously at us at one point), and along a stretch or two of country road, we arrived on the outskirts of Melide around 12:30, very hungry, cold, and sore footed.

We stopped at the Mesón A Ponte restaurant right before we crossed the bridge heading into town and devoured huge individual pans of paella. Bob promptly took a nap when we got to the hostel from such a heavy lunch. But I’m sure we’ll both manage to find room for the menú del día before the evening is over. 

Later this afternoon/evening, we’ll wander nto town to replenish my food supplies. Tomorrow is our last average length stage (~25 km). Then we have two short days leading into Santiago. I’m already starting to think about how I will combat the inevitable blues I’m going to feel when this adventure comes to an end.