November 26, 2014
When The Sun Was Shining: Campsite after Verin to campsite at Cambeo.
This late in the season enthusiasm sages. No longer Spring, Summer nor Indian Summer's long warm days. Nights are drawing in reducing hours of daylight as the season approaches Winter solstice. Life itself can seem somewhat futile, whether low light has an effect on mental health increasing the likelihood of depression I couldn't say; but, there isn't that ump, that energy that comes from warm sunshine. And making the first effort to even move of a November morning, never mind unzip the sleeping bag and sit up is hard. It seems the time of year nature has designed me to sleep, hibernate until the sun returns high in the northern hemisphere. Roll on March.
Opening the tent this morning there is thick fog. Great. I'm not missing much by not being out early.
The first few kilometres when the fog clears are all steeply down chilling me to the bone. I've been thinking of stopping a day in Ourense which I should reach today. Check in to a hotel as I could do with a shower and a wash of clothes which are saturated with stale sweat. I sweat like a pig climbing these long straights, then when the road goes down for kilometres, the windchill cuts through me. Oh for flatter country, plains instead of all this up and down.
Zinzo de Lima is reached by ten. No problem with language here when I stop for coffee and a croissant. No one speaks English, but neither does anyone speak Portuguese; though I do see bits of Portuguese on signs, like "do" and "os" I thought first this was to do with nearness to the border, but have come to the conclusion it is maybe local dialect.
The road onward is flat, following a wide valley with low hills to the side covered in plots of pine and the countryside generally in throws of crisp blue, brilliant yellows and gold sunny Autumn day.
Before Eurense there's a bit of a rise followed by a longish descend and approaching the city filled valley the road turns to divided highway, a autovia going on for too long before the exit for the city. Then it seem a long weary ride upon shoulderless urban thoroughfare which finishes with a sharp incline to the centre. I was expecting a nice old town. Instead it is twentieth century through and through. Square and concrete.
I come to a standstill on a street corner stooped over the handlebars unwilling to go further up as young cliental outside a café opposite fall silent, turn and stare over at me in confused curiosity. A shopkeeper outside his shop also sees me and contemplates a while before asking "buscando el centro turistico?" "Si!" He point me along pass his shop, a street on the level.
I see a Hosteling International sign above a door, but when I get there, discover it is a school, open only in Summertime for Camino walkers.
I decide to find a café and use the wifi. The place has a "Menu de Dia" for ten euros with a beer and coffee included. I order cream of vegetable soup for starters. It is good when it comes, being homemade. And the fried fish with chips goes down well too. Being four-thirtyish, away pass lunchtime there are only a few other cliental sat by the bar and the tall blond waitress makes a fuss over me for want of something better to keep her occupied. Taking away my fish to reheat it when I spend too long browsing the computer instead of eating.
I spent an hour mainly on this site and then get anxious to go as sun's yellow rays turn to low long shadows and approaching dusk. I have given up on finding a hotel here and have decided on riding on and camping somewhere. It is only a day more to Santiago after all and I'll take some time off there.
The ride out of town is a long gradual climb as it gets dark, though because of the clear sky the onset of night is slower. It is fully dark when I reach Cambeo after six kilometres of climbing, beyond which the road levels out and I come to the first place there isn't houses everywhere and first look in a plot of woodland slightly overgrown with bramble in which in he dark I lose my way out for a while before finding it again after furious scrambling through undergrowth. The next small woodland plot has a disused track into it. I set up camp on this track fifty metres in off the road, it being a little overgrown further. By now a partly full moon has risen giving an ambiance to the campsite below the bows of trees.
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Today's ride: 79 km (49 miles)
Total: 8,748 km (5,433 miles)
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