Total distance:  78.7 km. Climb: 

 The distance of 78 kilometers and 400 m of initial climbing – and the fact that every downgrade in the second half had to be balanced by another short, steep climb – may have made it an unpleasant day for those who were in a hurry to get it over with and get to the destination. But speaking for myself, I did as the day sheet promised: “Today you will enjoy small country roads through eucalyptus woods and the Galician rural countryside.” It would remain cool and overcast all day, with occasional mist or even a few perceptible drops of rain, but not even enough to cloud my sunglasses.

The day begins with 12 km of gentle climbing through pine forest interspersed with broom-like shrubs whose silvery green pea pods gave the appearance of white flowers. An overpass carries  us over highway N540 and our route takes us onto a narrow, patchy road with almost no vehicle traffic. This section coincides with the walking route, however; and, as we are within four or five days of the goal by foot, the walking pilgrims are more abundant than ever.  The rules of pilgrimage grant full privileges to any pilgrim who walks at least 100 km to Santiago de Compostela, and it’s clear that many go for the minimum, judging by the level of energy and enthusiasm that couldn’t have lasted over 500 miles of walking and several weeks of sleeping in dormitories. There seem to be a lot of young Spaniards, as opposed to the middle-aged Dutch, Germans, Belgians and French who have dominated my informal census/survey so far. Large groups of Spanish-speaking teenagers clog the road here and there. Perhaps they are walking the route as a class assignment or field trip. At times, coming up behind them on my bike (with Shimano components that make virtually no sound, even freewheeling), I have to resort to producing my own noise to ask the pilgrims to make room for my passage. Since my minimal Spanish carries no nuances of politeness, I resort to humor in a more universal language: I baa-ah like a sheep, which gets their attention and usually a smile as they let me pass.

 An unexpected bar in a stone building in the middle of farmland provides Texas Rex, Maria Elena and me with a chance for a coffee break. The passport stamp I get here reads Ventas de Naron. A short distance down the road a scenic stone village (Ligonde, perhaps?) inspires many photographs. In some of the fields and in the center of gardens that adjoin the houses I see long,  narrow structures of brick and concrete that look like scale model churches, due to a pitched roof and a cross on top. Actually, as our day sheet has advised us, these are “corn cribs,” or grain storage bins, in a style unique to Galicia.  Some of the houses are built of stone, topped with a slate roof and an insulating layer of grass growing on top.

Beyond the village, and beyond towns with names like Palas do Pes, Alba and Repostería, our  route diverges from the walking path again and we ride among groves of eucalyptus trees. There are two perplexing things about this. First: these genuinely are groves. The trees are planted in neat rows; but why would anyone deliberately plant a type of tree that at home in California is considered an invasive pest and has no utility – other than providing food for koalas in zoos and yielding eucalyptus oil for a minuscule niche market. Second: the eucalyptus trees bear the usual foliage in the top half of their growth – long, narrow leaves. But around the base of the trees the leaves are broad and round, such as I’ve never seen on a eucalyptus. Does this species bear two widely different types of leaves? Or could this be the result of grafting one tree on another?

Our destination for the night is not in a town at all, but a 17^th century country mansion, called Casa de Andeade, in the middle of the Galician countryside. In my eyes it’s an idyllic paradise. There is a stone cottage for each party. Strolling through the well tended garden I observe three small but relatively well fed cats: one gray tabby whose markings are almost leopard like; one black and one black-and-white. They continue their prowling, oblivious to me. It’s a quite, cool, green place where I’d like to spend an entire week.