DAY 19 (DAY 3 OF WALK) - TUESDAY 24TH SEPTEMBER 2019 – PORTOS TO MELIDE – 11.7 MILES

As you could probably see from the pic yesterday the Ant hostel was really cute and charming, however once up in the dorm it was a different story with a combination of 2 wafer thin blankets on a cold night, together with Russell and Ted snoring loudly in double bass stereo ensured I had another lousy nights sleep!

Ted was a retired prison officer and Russell a retired defence lawyer. Needless to say with my background as an ex-copper we had a lively discussion around law and order oiled by copious amounts of red wine! Ted was totally disillusioned with the prison system in Canada basically saying that with all the prisoners rights these days, the fear of being incarcerated was now virtually non-existent and Russell admitted that in The States that there were so many get out clauses that it was relatively easy to get many of his clients off the hook. So, Russell had a degenerative sight disease that meant by the time he was 18 he was almost completely blind, but reckoned he’d acquired an uncanny sense of direction as a result of his father insisting he completed household chores, one of which was to mow the lawn. Over time through trial and error and feedback from his dad, he reckoned he developed a really well-honed sense of direction. His wife, Laurie, who is albino, also has a degenerating condition but still had around 5% sight, allowing her to distinguish outlines and shapes if the light was good. Last year they managed to complete the first 400 kms of the Camino and this year they had returned to complete it! Russell admitted they did have special apps and speaking Google maps on their phones to help them. Otherwise it was their white sticks and the assistance of other pilgrims along the way that kept them moving slowly but steadily in the right direction. How amazing is that?! Which reminds me, I forgot to mention on the first day I saw a woman on the trail walking with a prosthetic leg anchored to what remained of her left leg just below the hip! And there’s me complaining about sore little toes!!

I delayed my departure from Portas as when I arose from bed it was raining quite steadily, but the forecast was an improving picture, which proved correct and I left the Ant hostel at around 9.45am. After an hour or so I caught up with Russell, left hand gently clasping the back of Laurie’s left upper arm, shuffling along the trail, with Russell’s white stick acting like a radar as it scanned from side-to-side in front of him, just brushing the grass at the side of the track to let them know they weren’t drifting too far towards the edge of the trail. Laurie had phone in hand and her white stick waving back and forth to reinforce that they were moving in the right direction. I jokingly told them to get a move on and after sharing some small-talk I wished them well and moved on.

The only time I went wrong on the trail was today. Just as I approached a delightful little café with a massive clam shell sculpture outside (see above), a group of 4 American ladies came out of the café and turned left along the lane. Like the proverbial sheep I followed them and after a couple of hundred metres I overtook them, but upon arriving at the next junction of lanes another 300 metres or so there was no signpost. I turned around and informed the ladies that we’d obviously gone wrong and as we about turned, I quipped that they, like other women in my past life, had led me up the garden path! This seemed to cause much hilarity amongst them and I spent the next hour or so chatting with Diane from North Carolina, from whom I learned that North Carolina was the home of the Appalachian Mountains, the highest of which is around 5,000 feet (sorry should’ve given you a factoid alert there!)

I arrived at Auberge O Candil (we’re not in Ireland are we?) in Melide around 3pm. I was just thinking that I’d not met and only heard a few English people along the way, when the first person I met in the dorm was a lady called Lucy from Newbury and she was doing the full Camino Frances. I was also sharing the dorm with a very severe looking Finnish lady who was completing the Camino Primitivo, which comes in from another way, but joins the main Camino trail at Melide. This, apparently, was the third different Camino she was doing and the other remarkable thing about this lady (sorry I forgot to ask her name) was that she was 76 years old,  was a retired teacher and now worked as a hypnotherapist just outside Helsinki. In her favour she had the kind of build ideal for walking, she was short and stocky, a bit like a mountain goat and to be honest, she looked a bit like one as well! (sorry shouldn’t have said that!)

Changing the subject from walking back to motorbikes, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't switched off the petrol tap on my bike. On a modern bike with fuel injection this isn't an issue as there is no tap! However on an older machine with a carburetor fuel can leech past the float chamber and into the combstion chamber of the cylinder, causing the engine to flood, especially if left for a protracted period. Then when the first attempt to start it is made there is far too much fuel in the engine and it becomes very difficult to get it started. Once at the hostel I phoned Maria back at Sarria and tried to explain the situation, but with her limited English and zero knowledge of bikes I had to think of an alternative way to let Maria know how to turn off my petrol tap. So with the wonder of What's App the below is what I came up with!

Within half an hour Maria had sent me 2 pictures of my bike, the first with tap on, the second with tap off and a note saying ,"No problem Dave all done"! I knew when I went to bed that night, this was not going to be one of the things that would keep me awake.