From Barbadelo to Gonzar
We have breakfast at the bar of the albergue and start our journey in the dark and under a light rain , except Cristian who wants to take it easy and leave after us. With the light of the electric torch we get on the road which, climbing, leaves the village; for the most part of the morning we pass through farmhouses by dirt paths and nothing more, going up and down over and over again. The biggest problem is not the effort but, seen we pass continually through farmhouses, the ability to avoid the several animal droppings we encounter. At almost 10 am we pass in front of the boundary stone which indicates the last 100 kilometers left to Santiago, from here, or better, from Sarria, we had the occasion to meet groups of pilgrims starting their journey from the last 100 kilometers, the minimum requirement to receive the Compostela, for those who see it as a trophy to have at any cost.
Today, as yesterday, we walk very fast; Grazia and I are very well trained and Chiara, although she’s small and tiny, walks fast as well. Apart a small break in a bar we walk for almost 20 kilometers until we get to Portomarin. We cross the long bridge leading to the city, under which we can still see the ancient bridge built by the Roman Empire and, on the banks of the river, the old ruins of the city that, after the construction of the dam, have been moved on the mountain nearby.
On the other side of the bridge and after a staircase and a climb we get to a bar/restaurant where we stop to have lunch; I’m tired to eat bocadillio (sandwich) so I have a pizza which, obviously, is a frozen one, even though the price isn’t frozen at all. We get back on the road as soon as we finish our lunch and, after crossing another bridge, practically the journey lets us pass across the city even though we would avoid it, to shorten the distance; we although had to take a break. From here on we keep going on dirt path flanking the road, a little muddy because of the rain of yesterday night but anyway well accessible, until we get to Gonzar, where there’s nothing else than a couple of hostels and a restaurant.
At the municipal hostel we stop at there’s the kitchen but no pots and pans at all and here, in this very small village, there’s no shop at all, so the restaurant is our forced choice. I hope to be able to sleep tonight because the dormitory is not so big but there are many beds. Moreover, I am very tall and I often have problems with beds, especially the bunk beds because they are shorter than 1,90 meters and I have to sleep bent on one side.