Where there’s a will

Yesterday, at times, when the sun broke through we were over-heating in our cycle kit and, given the improving forecast for the next few days, we were convinced the time had come to change our winter kit for summer wear. However, walking to and from our supper in the evening it was freezing cold; we barely had enough warm clothing with us to cope with the icy wind.

So, we were circumspect this morning. We popped our heads out of our bedroom window and the decision was made. Wear everything we have. It was beautifully clear but the combination of air temperature and strong wind made for Baltic conditions. We were also conscious that the day started with a substantial descent which always makes for cold riding.

After the oppressive humidity of yesterday the brisk air was welcome, and guaranteed tremendous clarity and outstanding light conditions. Cloud was still shrouding the Cordillera through which we had toiled for the last three days.

We passed by the hamlet of O Padron, just outside Fonsagrada and the vegetable gardens looked in very good health after the watering Galicia had been receiving recently.

Even our first Galician horreo looked wonderfully maintained, and almost a perfect AirBnB destination given the views.

On our previous Caminos a feature of Galicia has been its wind turbines. Indeed they are often referenced as navigational aids, much to your writer’s detriment. In 2012, whilst trying to find my way out of Pamplona I followed my guide book’s instruction to head for an evident wind farm, but I was unaware that new ones had been added and I ended up climbing a huge hill which we then had to descend again to get on to the right way. I was not popular with my following friend!

This morning the way was clear and after conceding more than 300 metres in descent we addressed ourselves to the task of regaining them all by heading for the windmills. Don Quixote had nothing on us when it comes to stubborn foolishness.

We had departed Fonsagrada, at an altitude of 950 metres, and 10kms further on we had returned to 960 metres.

And again….

And again!

As you will note we were still very high after 30.5 kms despite having descended three times.

However, Lugo is definitely lower than Fonsagrada and after another 25 kms of ups and downs, downs, downs we picked up a network of gravel tracks, shared with the walking pilgrims, and all supported by the scallop shell sign. These tracks carefully navigated the motorways and dual carriageways associated with all the larger cities, and delivered us safely to the edge of Lugo.

The city is one of Spain’s most celebrated, and is ringed by very impressive walls dating back to the Romans. Its cathedral is a spectacular confection with many complex elements which span every era of church architecture from the Romanesque to the Neo-classical. Unfortunately, we were late getting to the cathedral, and were disappointed to be told that no photography of any kind was permitted. I am thus unable to share the interior with you.

The old city is a wonderful place to get lost in and we managed it with some success, and will attempt to do so again when we go foraging for wine and tapas.

For those of you suffering withdrawal symptoms from the lack of photos of saintly imagery from inside the cathedral I offer an image of Santiago Peregrino from the lobby of our stunning eighteenth century hotel!

Linda enjoyed her first forage so, if I can wake her from her present slumbers, I might be able to tempt her out again.