Day 3: Barcelinhos to Lugar do Coro (22 km, feels like 22 until the last 5 km …)
According to the Camino guidebook, the next destination is supposed to be Ponte de Lima, about 22 miles from Barcelhinos.
After two grueling days, my first thought was “No way in hell.”
There were plenty of smaller towns between Barcelos and Ponte de Lima. “Less walking, more enjoying,” was to be our new mantra. Continue reading
Day 2: Vila do Conde to Barcelinhos (30 km, feels like: 45 km)
It is hard to look at the remnants of the 999 stone arches that comprised the base of the Aqueduto de Santa Clara in Vila do Conde, Portugal, and accept that at one time it was a colossal failure.
An aqueduct has one job, right? To convey water from one point to another with an MVP assist from gravity. I’m no engineer but it seems to me that, in building an aqueduct, slope is everything.
All about the slope, it’s all about the slope. Continue reading
The Atlantic Ocean stretches before us at the mouth of the Rio Douro, as the moon begins its descent. We are about to make a sharp right and finally head north toward Santiago.
Day 1: Porto to Vila do Conde (35 km)
Twice on this journey, we have left Porto and twice a voice in my head is saying “Your work is not done here.”
I think it may be the voice of the good people who bottle 10-year-old Tawny Port.
More likely, it is just the soul of this venerable old city’s siren song, calling me back to discover more of its hidden pleasures. Continue reading
The couple sat down at the next table as I dipped my second churro into a piping hot Chocolate Mexicano.
“I’ll sit right next to my darling sweetheart,” said the man brightly. And a little loudly.
“Who talks like that?” I wondered.
I was especially curious because I happened to be reading a NOVA report on the theory that the Big Bang created a mirrored universe that runs in reverse of ours. Mind you, not for one moment did I think that I’d slipped through the portal and landed in 1947.
It was just, you know, quaint. And a tad patriarchial. But then, she looked like the sort who thought a line like that might be charming, under some circumstances. Continue reading
All it takes is to miss a turn and you end up on a quiet country road like this one, which leads to the long-ago abandoned hacienda Las Trancas, about midway into the first section of the trail and a fabulous spot from which to engage the river.
We did it! We found the off-road, Rio Laja trail from San Miguel de Allende to Antotonilco. Several weeks ago, when we walked to Antotonilco along the old highway it was pleasant enough but the road is narrow and pretty busy.
Here and there we’d catch glimpses of the chalky gray Rio Laja which flows south into the sprawling reservoir called La Pressa Allende. And here and there was evidence of a trail!
We’re still new at this hiking/walking thing and lacked the confidence to jump off the road and into the brush along a river we hardly knew. Who knew where we might end up? Continue reading
This little guy was sitting all alone this morning on Calle Hiernandez Macias, or so it seemed. Half a block down was his mother, sitting against a wall in the shade offering Chiclets to tourists.
He was bored enough to topple off the curb and into a pigeon pose in the street, before switching to an updog pose. Our little yoga master!
Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 