Portuguese Way: From Porto to Santiago in 10 Days

In May 2009, Peter Klüppelholz walked the Portuguese Way from Porto to Santiago de Compostela in ten days. His diary notes from the road tell of albergues, rain and blisters – and of a hippie pilgrim with hay flowers tied to her staff.

The Camino is a great teacher for recognising the little things and what really matters, and for becoming happy. Take heart!

Day 1: Porto

So, here I am back on the Camino. My pilgrimage is to begin in Porto and take me to Santiago. I'm sitting in a cosy café not far from the historic national museum, in wonderfully mild weather, and my guesthouse, the Pension Franca, is just a stone's throw away. I couldn't have found it any better. I flew from Düsseldorf via Palma to Porto. When I arrived in Porto, I was just glad that the strain of the journey was finally over. At baggage claim I discovered that my pocket knife had been stolen. In the past I would have been really annoyed and let everyone around me know it, but today I'm completely relaxed about it, because there are more important things in my rucksack that I really do need. Of course, I hope this will be my only loss along the way.

This evening I'm almost grateful to the thief, because it taught me my first lesson on the Camino: don't get upset about things you can no longer change. Thank you, thief! And enjoy the knife.

My first impression of Porto is that it isn't as modern as Spanish cities seem to me. Finding the right way in Porto is quite complicated, and even the Portuguese have their difficulties with their own city – or is it down to my language problems after all? But everyone is very helpful. In the end my ambition won out and I did find the cathedral, where my Way is to begin. I'm thinking about taking the bus for the first few kilometres to spare myself the industrial areas and the boring outskirts, but I haven't made a decision yet. I'm already looking forward to tomorrow and will end the day at a leisurely pace.

Day 2: Rates

It's almost 6 p.m. and I'm sitting in my albergue on Portuguese soil, enjoying the peace and quiet after a 20 km march. Unfortunately, today's route mostly ran along a national road, which, given the way people drive here, really isn't a pleasant experience. Fortunately there were no big climbs on the way, and for a start it was OK, but tomorrow the scenery is finally supposed to get better.

The many people who say you have to walk a pilgrimage alone are right, as became more and more clear to me later on. Only you are master of your own thoughts, you alone set your pace, and you decide when you need a break. I also discovered later that your thoughts set your pace. Since I didn't meet a single pilgrim on the way, it was a blessing for me.

Later, in the albergue, I was surprised at how many pilgrims there were. Where had they all come from? I had to share my room with 10 other pilgrims, and for my first night it took quite some getting used to. Most of them are Portuguese – for them it's a home game, after all. Otherwise there are lots of French and Dutch here, and what the four Australian ladies are doing here wasn't quite clear to me either. But everyone has their own personal reasons for the Way. My itinerary is very daring: tomorrow it's to be another measly 15 km, followed by days of 30 km and more. We'll see whether that's doable with my 11 kg rucksack and my feet.

Day 3: Barcelos

I've just enjoyed my pilgrim menu. It consisted of cabbage soup, a salad, and chicken pieces with chips and rice. Really tasty! Unfortunately the waiter brought me everything at once – I must have looked as if I was about to starve. Today was really lovely; it took me along field and meadow paths, and in spring nature is a delight …

When I arrived in Barcelos, a Portuguese woman showed me the way to my guesthouse, which the guidebook described as very nice. Since I was completely exhausted, I first had a siesta in a fresh, clean bed. After a long shower that was more like a camping shower – maybe this room is meant for the Dutch – I sat down in a café and let the people and the town sink in.

After the break I went for a walk through town, passed a church and heard that Mass was being said. I felt the need to take part, and after Mass the priest asked me whether I was on my way to Santiago. I said yes, but at that very moment a more fitting answer occurred to me. No, on my way to myself – but it takes me via Santiago!

When I got back to my guesthouse, I got quite a fright. There was a cat lying on my balcony, which I really hadn't expected. Once I had opened the balcony door and she had lost her fear of the pilgrim, her interest turned to my fragrant socks. Now she drops by at irregular intervals to check that everything's in order.

Day 4: Ponte de Lima

At 6 a.m. the alarm rang me out of my sleep. I was a little afraid of today and its distances. The first few kilometres always take some effort for me, and it always takes a while before I reach my pilgrim operating temperature. I even got lost on the way, because I simply overlooked one of the arrows; I took it with humour. In Portugal the place-name signs are very poor. When I read a sign saying Portela, I was very surprised. In my guidebook this place was marked much closer to my destination. That can't be right, I thought, and almost became overconfident, which was to take its revenge later. There were two Portelas, a Portela and a Portela de Tamel, and idiot that I am, I fell for it. Always trust your gut – it won't deceive you!

Day 5: Valença

Yes, I walked that far again today, and to put it mildly I've had my fill of so many kilometres a day, with the sun on top of it. This is my last night in Portugal, and tomorrow I'll have reached Spain. Tonight all I long for is my bed, and tomorrow morning I'll take a look at the old town.

Day 6: Mos

It's Sunday and I'm sitting alone in a café in the old town, enjoying wonderful cake with plenty of coffee. I couldn't pass up the chance of a cheap breakfast. Spain certainly won't be this cheap. My blisters are doing very well, and really I'm just glad to have made it through yesterday's pilgrim day. When I'm lost in thought on the Way, I hardly notice my tiredness and my foot problems vanish into thin air. Yesterday, though, I did slip back into my old ways and would have loved to go back to the Portuguese man who said it was only 4 km to town – it felt more like 8 km to me, and I'd had enough. I could have given him a loud piece of my mind.

Day 7: Pontevedra

Yesterday, just as I had put my diary aside in the albergue, one more pilgrim came in. He was a 64-year-old Belgian who had had to give up his civil service job for health reasons and is now walking from Santiago to Fátima. He has until September for these 460 km. I was very astonished, which he noticed, and then he said something very apt to me: what good would it do me to find my death here – this way I have more time to find myself. Yes, that's true! I, too, feel as if I've found my own personal Camino stride.

Day 8: Caldas de Reis

There are days in life that I can give a headline to. I've given today the headline "The Water Battle of Galicia". But let's take it one step at a time: last night I slept very badly again, but I'm slowly getting used to the short nights. The albergue was really very nice and modern, but sleeping with 15 pilgrims in one room isn't always fun. Either someone snores, or I'm sleeping next to a hippie pilgrim who has tied hay flowers to her staff that smell terrible. I was tempted to tell her that all dogs and hay flowers are banned from the albergue.

In the morning, by way of consolation, there was a super breakfast in a cosy café. No sooner had I set off than a sudden downpour began. Since I didn't have a rain jacket with me, I was soaked to the skin within minutes. There are nicer things, believe me, and I was only at the start of my day's walk. When I then had to go up a dirt track, that was the end of my hiking boots. They felt like a flooded lifeboat. Every step hurt. My reaction was simply to shout "Awesome!" at the top of my voice. I took it with humour. After 10 km I came to a village and stormed into the first café in the place. I was really worried about my pilgrim office (passport, mobile phone, camera, plane tickets, pilgrim passport and guidebook). I thought, if those things are wet, I've got a problem. Fortunately my office had stayed dry. In the café the kitchen granny, an old Spanish woman, gave me a dry T-shirt; I was really grateful to her. After a break I was to carry on, but my feet hurt like hell and I could only go on at a crawl. Suddenly a car stopped next to me and the driver signalled that he would give me a lift for a bit. I thought, do I already look that pitiful? After all, Spaniards normally only stop when a pilgrim is already lying on the ground.

Of course I carried on on foot – I had my pride, after all. When I arrived in Caldas, I headed straight for the school that was signposted as my albergue. Unfortunately it was closed. Damn, I thought, so in this case my guidebook was wrong. I was really cross; the next albergue was 18 km away, definitely too far for me. A few metres from the school there was a hotel, where I checked in for the night. Finally a fresh bed for once, and no hippie pilgrim anywhere in sight.

Day 9: Padrón

Actually I'd wanted to walk as far as Teo today, 12 km before Santiago, but because my bed was so comfortable I slept until 9 a.m. Definitely too late for my 30 km, I thought immediately.

Just past Caldas de Reis it occurred to me: why am I actually rushing like this to get to Santiago? It's enough if I walk 18 km today and take it easier. Especially on the last kilometres before Santiago, many people overestimate themselves and just want to arrive. I won't make the same mistake. Whether I arrive at midday or late in the afternoon shouldn't really matter. So I was able to enjoy the day, and the weather played along too. Every step was a joy, and tomorrow it's city pilgrimage on the agenda. I've got used to my short nights and am already amazed at my physical strength on the Camino. But I can also feel my battery slowly running down.

By the way, I'm sitting in a café right now and have declared today my calorie day. I simply ate too little in the days before. So, now I'm waiting for my salad, after that there'll be a mixed grill, and for dessert I've already switched on my creative department. The waitress was quite taken aback – I must have looked as if I was about to starve. For the food I even skipped my shower, which I don't normally do. After writing these lines I went back to the albergue, and what did I see there? The walking staff with the hay flowers. Great, I thought. But tonight she's sleeping a few beds away from me.

Day 10: Santiago

Arriving in Santiago was one more hard slog for me. Right up to just before the city I walked lonely pilgrim paths. Nice, you'd think, but when a city is waiting for me, I'm just glad to finally get there. When I was standing in front of the cathedral at last, I simply tore my rucksack off my back and let the moment of arrival sink in. It was overwhelming for me to arrive at the place I had considered done and dusted in 2005, but where I was only to arrive as a new person in 2009. Oh yes – nobody needs to ask me about that mysterious hippie pilgrim; how that story ended, I'll keep to myself.

Some ways take quite a long time!

In Santiago, in front of the cathedral, I swore to myself: if the Way calls me again, there will be a pilgrim who sets off.

Peter Klüppelholz's pilgrim routes

2003: Burgos – Sahagún
2005: Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port – Santiago
2006: Huesca – Puente la Reina
2009: Porto – Santiago
2012: Wuppertal – Cologne
2013: Cologne via Aachen to Liège
2014: (planned) Liège – French border

The route in Camino Ninja

You'll find the Portuguese Way from Porto via Barcelos, Ponte de Lima, Valença, Pontevedra and Padrón to Santiago, with stages, map and accommodation, in Camino Ninja: Camino Portugués Central.