Santiago de Compostela at end of El Camino Ingles

 Santiago de Compostela at end of El Camino Ingles  

It was hard to sleep as it was my last day on El Camio Ingles and I was eager to leave the hotel. I had researched the route out of town but I didn't want to leave in the dark and miss an arrow so I had to wait until dawn.

Autumn had set in and it was a cold, damp and mist start to the morning. In retrospect, I could have set out earlier and just follow the line of pilgrims but it was misty and difficult to see an arrow in the mist and the dark. After more than an hour of walking, the sun still hadn't burnt off the mist.  

Half way along teh route, I reached the Enchanted Forest, (El Bosque Encantado) which to me looked like any other piece of woodland...

...but there was another sign to emphasise the point of its credentials, the outline of a witch flying on a broom.

A view of the enchanted forest.

Soon after that, I was into the urban sprawl of Santiago de Compostela but at least approaching the centre from teh north and through an area with which I was not familiar. And soon I was back in front of the cathedral in the centre of the city and another El Camino completed!

Sigüeiro, Santiago de Compostela

Sigüeiro, Santiago de Compostela  

It was such a nice change to wake up, walk out of the hotel and not to face a long steep hill the first thing after breakfast. I had left the mountains behind and it was gently rolling countryside. Yes, there were some ascents but none as steep or as long as before.

It was another three kilometres back to El Camino. I didn't walk back the way I had come, I walked an oblique back to El Camino. I had missed three kilometres of the official route but I had walked twice the distance, two sides of a triangle to get to my hotel and then to return to El Camino. 

It was a pleasant walk through rural countryside, some fields, some forests, plantations of eucalyptus trees and more corredoiros, the sunken lanes so common in this region.

The numbers on the granite pylons were counting down to zero at the end of the route in front of the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. 

I made a point of taking more photos than yesterday and checking that the camera had actually recorded them.

There were fields, sometimes with planations nearby, and natural forest of open woodland.

After a long trudge through peaceful forest on logging tracks, there was the sound of traffic. The trail comes out of the forest, under a motorway and then runs alongside it for the last five kilometres of the days walk. There was still beautiful scenery off to my left, but the enjoyment of the views was rather spoiled by the constant traffic noise just to my right. 

After the last line of trees on a ridge, the town suddenly begins. There was no transition from rural to urban. It was as if the developers had gained planning permission up to the municipal boundary but the next municipality had refused any planning permission. It was an abrupt change from fields and forest to industrial estates and residential areas.

I walked down the hill to the town of Sigüeiro and its bridge across the river, wondering if I had jinxed the next day's start by mentioning the lack of a hill climb to start the day. 

Ordes, Galicia

 Ordes, Galicia 

I had breakfast in my hotel in Betanzos waiting for the sun to rise sufficiently to see those yellow arrows in the gloom of dawn. I had checked out the route the afternoon before but I am weak willed. Once the route out of town started to ascend steeply, I turned around and walked back to the central plaza. 

At breakfast were the same Mexican group that I had first seen in the hotel in Ferrol and who had overtaken me in Fene. They all said that they were doing well but the lady with the walking stick seemed to be as mobility challenged as when I first saw her but she was determined to walk the route. They were walking the route seeking a spitirual uplift. Given the lady's mobility issues, I was surprised that they had chosen one of the more challenging routes although in distance terms, it does seem easier. 

I wished them a Buen Camino and set off into the gloom of dawn. I followed the path out of town until I came to a Y junction a bit furether than I had researched the afternoon before with no discernible marker. A gentleman behind me shouted and pointed down the right hand turning. I recognised him from the day before. 

He was a African, festooned with trinkets around his neck and waist that he had been hawking in the streets the day before. He still had a market stalls worth of goods around his body and I wondered why he was up so early when no one else was about but perhaps he had slept rough. 

I had no reason to doubt his advice but it was a relief when I saw a waymarker next to a bridge over a stream stating that it was only 64 km to Santiago de Compostela. Which meant that todays journey of 32 km would finish near a waymarker with that number.

It was a long uphill slog out of town. I would be walking up from sea level to the highest point on El Camino Ingles, about 450 metres above sea level but my free guide from the tourist office didn't give a precise height or location, it merely cheerfully advised that is was 23.5 kms of total ascent between the start point in Betanzos and Bruma, although I was continuing a further 4 kms to my hotel as there was no available accomadation in Bruma. That is why you pay a lot more for a professionally written guidebook which I had been errant in not obtaining before my departure. 

For some of the route, it was through forested areas providing shade against the sun which despite being mid-October, their were clear blue skies and teh sunlight was still as strong and bright as a British summer. I stood out as a northern European as I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. The local pilgrims thought it was cold and were wearing long trousers and fleeces. 

I played Leapfrog with a young Spanish couple who were cycling the route. They whizzed past me on a downhill road section. They were memorable as one had a mountain bike suitable for the rough terrain conditions and the long road stretches. The other member of the couple had a Brompton fold away bike with small wheels and probably the last version of a bike that I would recommend to take on such a journey. I noticed later that it wasn't a Brompton but it was the same style of fold away bike suitable for short, flat commuter journeys but not up mountains and difficult terrain.  

The route left the road up a rough track through the forest. I overtook them as they pushed their bikes up the slope. A little later, I heard them coming down the track and whizzing past me. 

I walked on past a sign pointing off the trail with the number 1906 painted in red on it. This might not mean much to some people but it is a reference to a beer brand and pointed to a cafe bar just off the main El Camino route. People who know Spain will recognise the traditional brands such as Mahou, Cruz Campo and San Miguel.

Estrella Galicia is another national brand but it is particularly strong in the northwest of Spain and it is difficult to find a cafe without this brand on prominent display. It is brewed by the Hijos de Rivera Brewery located in A Coruna, The brewery was founded in 1906 by Jose Maria Rivera Corral after travelling in Cuba and Mexico. The firm remains 100% family owned with the founder's great grandson and namesake Jose Maria Rivera and his partner Stuart Krenz as joint company presidents. One of the company's brands is called 1906 to celebrate the creation of the brewery. 

I followed a yellow arrow and soon got lost. I passed another pilgrim and thought nothing of it. A car screeched to a halt but I carried on walking. I could faintly hear a conversation between the car driver and the pilgrim but was soon out of earshot. I passed a yurning with no sign so carried on until I reached a crossroads wth no markers. I checked down each road and there were no other markers. And the pilgrim that I had passed was not catching me up. I suspected that I had missed a turn. 

Eventually a dog walker walked up to the crossroads. I asked for directions. She pointed me up a side road and said carry on going up, always up to reach the church at the top of the hill and turn left. The last thing a pilgrim wants to hear, especially after coming down a steep hill, is to be directed back up it.

I thanked her and started my ascent. It was steep but she knew her local area, and ignoring side roads that went down, I always chose the 'up' option. Sure enough, I reached the top of the ridge and a church, dedicated to Santa Maria de Poseda, a name en route that I recognised, and found a granite pylon and I was back on track. 

I soon caught up with the pilgrim that I had overtaken a little earlier and who had not caught me up. We recognised each other. She explained that the car driver had stopped to say that we had missed a turning. She had shouted after me but I obviously didn't hear her. She was so relieved and pleased that I was not lost.

There was more walking through forest and just ahead of me where the two cyclists pushing theirs bikes up a steep section. I overtook them, only for them to come whizzing past me again. We played leapfrog like this for several hills until the route descended and they pulled ahead of me.

As I was walking through Bruma, I passed a restaurant and outside where their two bikes. So I had overtaken them again.

I reached Ardemil. It is a strange place as in front of the cafe at the crossroads are some art installations. One is a rusty giant bandsaw machine. Another is an iron arch made from bent railway tracks and on each side is a tractor seemingly driving over the arch. Behind it is a green brontesaurus. Scattered about are various stone scultures of some people and a horses head. Very distinctive but no information board.

Legend had it that there was a battle here gainst the Moors in which the local troops were victorious and the Moors suffered a great number of dead and the name of the village comes from Spanish ardieron mil, literally, a thousand burned.

My hotel was off El Camino but there was a helpful sign put up by the hotel with their name on it and an arrow pointing down a road off El Camino. I walked on to Hotel Barreiro. 

Betanzos

 Betanzos  

I had to wait until 8.30 when it was light enough to leave Pontedeume. The sun still hadn't risen above the mountains to the east but it was bright enough to see. I had checked out the start of the route out of town but the guidebook had warned that it was a steep ascent for 1.5 kilometres up Mount Breamo, so I hadn't gone very far to check the route the previous afternoon before turning around. 

After the first steep climb of the morning, the route levels out and goes through forest and across a golf course before climbing further into the mountains through forests before a long descent to Ponte Baxoi, one of the seven bridges that were built by Fernan Perez de Andrade o Boo, Andrade the Good, in the 14th century. 

I had seen more pilgrims in the first hour of walking than I had seen for the last two days. But then again, it was a Saturday, and the weather forecast was fine, so no surprises that the weather had enticed a lot of other walkers out onto El Camino del Norte to walk a little of the route at the weekends to complete the route to Santiago de Compostela rather than doing the whole route in one go. Not everybody has the free time to do it in one go.  

Coffee and refreshment options are not so well distributed along El Camino Ingles as for instance on El Camino Frances, but this farm had expanded and had a large mural on a wall of one of its barns that couldn't be missed and had developed a cafe with tables and chairs set out in the sun. 

El Camino dips down alongside the river and under the notorway with a lot of traffic noise before weaving its way through Mino overlooking the sea.

There are several views of the sea and a lovely sandy beach but El Camino follows the river upstream...

...to another bridge built by Andrade the Good.

The route continues and passes the Ponte  de Porco, the Boars Bridge, another bridge built by Andrade the Good and called the Boars Bridge as the boar was the symbol of the House of Andrade. The guidebook advises that there is a carving of a boar on the parapit of the bridge and whilst I looked for it, I couldn't discern any boar but then again, the bridge had been rebuilt for modern traffic and perhaps I was just looking in the wrong place. 

After another hill and more forest, the route crosses an agricultural area with fields of crops, pastures, cattle and horses grazing before descending back to sea level and the bridge over Rio Mandeo into Betanzos. 

I walked through the old town to the main plaza, which an hour earlier had been crowded but after lunch in a local restaurant, the place seemed to be empty as it was time for siesta...

...a stack of motorbikes, gathered together for a meeting of enthusiasts with some archetecturally interesting buildings behind the bikes...

...and some childrens fair ground rides set up in the plaza but again empty as it was siesta. 

Pontedeume

 Pontedeume 

After a great night's sleep only spoiled by the sound of waves lapping at the stones walls and steps down to the beach, I rejoined El Camino, with the typical uphill start to the day. To rejoin the main route, I walked up from the shore, over the railway line and up to the main road. El Camino takes the backroads, so it was anotehr climb up to reach the back road that runs parallel to the main N651.

And there was a new sign, still blue and yellow but with the words Ultreia et Suseia, meaning Onward and Upward. I passed a young couple and wished them a Buen Camino. They had a long weekend to walk half of El Camino Ingles with a plan to do the second half on another long weekend in a few weeks time. 

I passed a bus stop with a bus parked there where the furtherest extent of its route finshed before returning to Pontedeume. I had only just left the young couple but looking around as I crossed the road, they were nowhere to be seen. I can only imagine that the lure of the bus to skip ahead was too tempting and they had caught the bus. 

A mural on a building in Fene. 

Another sign for a pilgrim with a difference, made from scallop shells. 

I had seen the Banco Peregrino sponsored bench before but the drinking fountain to the left with its concrete sculptured scallop shell was a new twist on a theme.

A chain link fence where pilgrims had weaved twigs into the mesh to represent crosses.  

A view of the bridge into Pontedeume across the Rio Eume and the original site of an ancient bridge that boasted 78 arches to get the road across the estuary...

...and a view of the estuary and out to sea. 

Neda

 Neda 

I walked out of the hotel and joined El Camino to follow the signs through the town. Down near the waterfront I passed a bandstand and next to it was...

...another local chartacter, this time a gentleman made of bronze standing on the pavement. There was a theme here but without any guide or information board, I was still none the wiser. 

I walked on past the main entrance to the shipyards, now operated by Navantia. 

There was a lot walking past shipyards, docks, military areas and restricted areas. The rising sun lit up many of the buildings as I made my way around the estuary following the yellow arrows and the granite pylon waymarkers. Ny guide suggested that the distance was 119 kilometres but the pylons were counting down from 113 kilometres from the passenger terminal in Ferrol. 

Eventually, the route leaves all the industrial areas and follows the waterfront alongside sandy beaches. Despite being a major industrial area and a major port, the beaches are clean and surprisingly empty except for some joggers and dog walkers.

Near Narón. there is a short diversion from El Camino to view the former Aceas flour mill. It was a mill powered by the tide to drive the machinery. It was part of King Charles IV's Royal Factories in the 18th century. 

It was just a short walk to start El Camino Ingles at just 16 kilometres long from Ferrol to Neda but the route went along the estuary, across a bridge at Xubia before following the far side of the estuary. I could see my hotel on the foreshore across the water, but it would be another hour of walking reaching it. 

There is some scrambling through thick undergrowth after Gandara, and had I known, I would have taken the road option. I had checked the map and it was clear that the route followed the foreshore. It didn't look right after a lot of waymarker and wide paths but there was a yellow arrow pointing this direction and I didn't see any alternative options. 

It was overgrown and had it rained recently, it would have been slippery and dangerous and it reminded me of my experiences near Playa Berria. There were also stretches alongside an unfenced railway although judging by the rust on the rails, no train had come this way for a while. 

The route comes past the Monastery of San Martino de Xuvia, a Benedictine monastery, built in the 9th century in a Romanesque style with some interesting stone carvings and corbels.

For those that want to take a short cut, there is a pedestrain footbridge and path alongside the railway crossing across the estuary but the official route continues up the estuary to cross the river before going through Xubia and down the far side.

In Neda, I left El Camino to follow the AC115 to my hotel. 

It was an old stone building right on the seashore with a few steps down to the beach. 

The view down the estuary wasn't great as there was a massive shipyard there with tall cranes and lots of warehouses and fabrication workshops.

The view up the estuary wasn't much better with a tall viaduct taking the motorway across teh estuary and in front of it, the railway bridge and a long embankment cutting across the slatflats.

The building was an eclectic mix of styles with some of the original stone ranges carefully restored...

...hilst teh original main structure had been restored but had had an extension added on the landward side and another storey added. Inside, there waas still a wealth of detail and bare stone walls but the refurbichment had required some structural  reinforcement and where the roof would have been supported by  thick wooden beams, there were steel girders. Normally I would hate this mix of styles but somehow, it had been sensitively completed and it didn't jarr on my nerves and eyes.

A view of the main house from the beach. 

And views from later in the day when the tide had turned, looking over the water to the motorway and railway bridges...

...down the estuary towards the shipyard...

...and directly across the estuary towards the monastery. 

Ferrol and the start of El Camino Anglais

 Ferrol and the start of El Camino Anglais  

I took a taxi from Santiago de Compostela to Ferrol. It was an expensive option as there are both trains and buses, both of which are cheap but I would be carrying everything with several travsfers and the taxi was hotel door to hotel door.

Ferrol has a great harbour with few equals in Europe as it has depth, capacity and security as it has a narrow entrance commanded by two forts which could also be made secure by a boom to prevent entry by enemy ships. 

Ferrol has been a major shipbuilding centre for much of its history and hosts the Spanish navy's Maritime Department of the North since the time of the early BOurbons. In the 17th century, Ferrol held the largest arsenal in Europe. It is still a major shipbuilding centre today.

Ferrol was the birthplace of the dictator Francisco Franco in 1892

Overlooking part of teh military port.

A navy vessel moored in the docks with some cranes...

...and there are a lot of cranes.

One of the locals in the park ovelooking the docks, but no information board to advise anything about him.

The Ferrol sign down in teh docks at the start of El Camino Anglais...

...and opposite, the pilgrim and tourist information entre and the first concha sign.

Although it is very much an industrial city, there are pleasant plazas to be found.

Another local dressed like a Ku Klux Klan member but again, no information board to advise the inquisitive visitor but he might predate the KKK and represent the Spanish Inquisition. 

 

The town hall on one side of the Plaza Armas.

Santiago de Compostela

 Santiago de Compostela  

I was so excited after walking officially 782 kilometres of El Camino del Norte, that I was up early for my last day on El Camino del Norte. I had actually much more due to errors of navigation and doubling back, walking to a hotel set away from El Camino and walks around churches and museums in the afternoon and around towns and cities in the evening looking for an evening meal when it wasn't included in the room booking. 

I set off half an hour before dawn, and there were still pilgrims on the route ahead of me. There was never a quiet moment as the last 100 kilometres into Santiago de Compostela is choked with pilgrims. I passed several entrepreneurs who were selling jewellery, pastries, or cold drinks. There were also some musicians who had set up a stall to collect coins, or sell CDs of their music. It is surprising how far music can carry in the cool of the morning through the forest, including one who was playing Galician bag pipes. 

A view of some farmland, a rare sight along the last section as there is a lot of forest. The route climbs a hill and skirts the perimeter of the airport before dipping towards the city of Santiago de Compostela. It is a large city and there are glimpses of it through the trees. 

There is a large welcome to Santiago de Compostela sign at the city perimeter. I would have taken a photo of it or a selfie but there was a queue of pilgrims all wanting to do the same thing. I didn't wait but continued. 

Although the sign welcomes visitor to the city, there is still a lot of uninteresting urban sprawl before passing into the old city where the pilgrim reaches their ultimate goal of standing in the Praza do Obradoiro in front of the west facade of the cathedral.

It was approaching midday so the sun was behind one side of the building. 

I walked around the centre but some of the well known buildings were being renovated and were not the photo opportunty that you might have hoped for...

A better photo of teh cathedral wen the sun had moved around in the afternoon.