When I told hubs that we were in Negreira, he thought I said Nigeria. I guess the words looks similar and the brain makes up the rest.

Great intentions went by the wayside. Desires to wake up and be out of the place by 6.30 am went to pot as the snooze button kept getting switched. We weren’t the only ones Doing that. The lady in the next bunk over the privacy wall was also doing the same. I kept peeping out the window waiting for the sky to get light, which it didn’t seem to. It wasn’t till half past seven that I realised I was looking at the shadow of a building.

Son and I came tumbling out of the Albergue. We left late and there was a light drizzle. The forecast for the next few days, actually the entire trip, was for rain. Still it looked like the big double raindrops wouldn’t happen till about 1 pm. Son had my Osprey Exos 48L backpack from my Camino Frances – complete with rain cover. Me, I had my newish Osprey Tempest 30L pack with no cover. I simply hadn’t had time to make it to the shops. Thankfully, we had a garbage bag with us and after some creative work making slits in the bag, voila! I had a pack cover. Let’s just hope I don’t have to put it to a real test.

Walking past a cafe, I smelled bacon and eggs. Hmm. Nothing like a hot cooked breakfast in Spain. Quite rare, really, for bars to have the kitchen open. So we stopped off for some hearty food to get the motor running.  

This was also the same morning that the news broke about processed meats causing cancer. I thought about generations of Spanish and their Serrano hams, chorizo etc. and then I promptly carried on eating. I don’t smoke, i don’t take drugs, I’m actually burning some serious calories on the camino. I’ll figure out the new meat/processed meat diet plan when I’m back on home ground.

One thing about going off trail, it sometimes takes awhile getting back on it. Sometimes, signs which are so blooming obvious after the fact, are hidden from you when you are desperately searching. We wandered up and down the street a little, trying to surreptitiously follow other pilgrims. But we’d left quite late, so there were none to be followed. 

Finally, the route out became clear. Well, with the help of local directions. Down the street we went. Where it was the ugly Negreira that we saw yesterday, today had a bit of interest. It seems Negreira had city walls. The arches were now turned into artist studios or vino drinking holes.   

 

The rain kept misting, such that we were neither wet not dry, just sweaty and humid. Our jackets kept coming off, then on, then off again. The dark clouds were about, and in I assign the sun shine through. The good thing about the weather was that it created a beautiful diffused light for photos. It also made the day cooler. There were not many places to rest, and what there was was wet. 

At around 1 pm the drops became larger and dropped faster. We were close to Vilesario and ran the last 100 m to duck under cover just in time at the local bar.  It seems like the other pilgrims had the same idea. Having stopped for lunch, they were stuck too.

The rain bucketed down for nearly an hour. During which time, we decided to have lunch. Bacon cheese and eggs bocadillo and coffee and coke. That’s the food that sustains you on the camino. I removed my feet from the constraints of laced up boots and relaxed. After 45 minutes, it eased to droplets. I checked the weather report. It was always going to be dicey. “It’s too early to stop for the da”, I told Son. “Maybe we should try for the 7 km. we have time.”

So we did. We saw the Norwegian walkers move off but we never caught up to them. It was nice to walk in cool weather but I kept a very brisk pace. My shell was beginning to soak through and I had to often flick my jacket free of rain. As if I could. More just fell. 

Most of the trail was road walking through farmland. If I’m honest, it is ick. Where it would have been matted dried up dung, much of it continued to melt in the rain and stream down the road. It was hard to know where not to step. The smell of hay was strong and I could only associate it with horse dung. Like I said, ick, but I did not dwell on it. I just cracked on.

We reached Moranos, but our options were not great. Albergue Casa Pepa is a house built right next to a barn and opposite a cemetery. The mix of horse dung smell and dead bodies did not appeal and we went to our next and final option Albergue Santa Marina.

A road side restaurant, the accommodations are in the house just next door. I was glad to get a place. The next accommodations were 9 km away. We wouldn’t make it there before dark. Cramped and tight, we were led to the loft with 6 beds, one window and one toilet bathroom. The beds looked like the coverings had never been changed. I had to put icky aside and simply be with “we are out of the rain”. I instructed Son to just get about settling, have shower etc. I did the same. The hot water was good though cool towards the end. I showered quickly. As I stepped out to dry, I spotted the black mould and that is when I simply held my breath and hurried up doing whatever I had to. 

Simply put, Moranos is not the town to stop on your way to Finisterre.