Chapter 21
All good things have to end.
Just like most bad things eventually end.
It’s particularly sad when really good things have to end.
On Saturday morning, Camino Steve and I burst our ‘Camino Bubble’ of 10 pilgrims, as we broke off as a ‘mini bubble’ of 5, to walk to Coimbra.
‘I’m forever blowing bubbles’. 🎵
Trouble is they keep on bursting this weekend!
This morning that mini bubble, became a minuscule bubble: it was back to just Camino Steve and I, as we left Mike, Marica and Donna to reconvene with the original Big Bubble.
A 2 night stay in Coimbra?
Who wouldn’t!?
What a lovely City.
Actually, more of a town.
I’m definitely keen to head back there for a weekend mooch.
And I wasn’t too downcast.
I’d had a brilliant time with them all.
I’ll probably see them all in Porto of Santiago.
Or both.
And I have the best of reasons landing in Porto on Wednesday afternoon:
Mrs M.
Nicky: pictured here with my beautiful and talented daughter, Rosie!
In much colder climes than Portugal.
So, on Saturday 11th April, I walked all day, with Mike, the ‘Yank with the Tank’, from California, carrying the biggest rucksack I have ever seen or lifted and Donna (Blitzen -obviously!) from Australia.
We got great emotional back up and support from her sister Marica (Mika), who has hired a car for a few days, to give her foot some time to heal.
Mika walked the first 6 km with us.
Mika had volunteered to be support crew: popping up here and there, just to give us all a bit more encouragement.
She is very skilled at it!
We left the hostel at 06.50.
Not our greatest start.
The gate wouldn’t open……
So we climbed the gate!
Unfortunately: it’s confession time.
I did resort to giving Donna a hand salute.
That fence gave my ‘crown jewels’ a very close shave and she was laughing!
Hats off to Camino Steve!
At 66 he was the nimblest gate climber of us all!
Then we were off.
Straight onto the trail.
With a predicted 32 km/21 mile stretch ahead of us, all 3 of them declared their total loyalty to my navigational prowess, and said they were 100% interested in any shortcuts.
It transpired that my shortcuts saved us all around 4.5 km.
Not so shabby.W
Did go a bit off piste!
Again!
Mike doesn’t relish my ‘off pistes’,
Nor do my wife and kids.
“Summertime, and the living was easy.” 🎵
We ambled along, past field after field of vines.
After 6 km, we met ‘Gordon’ the Goat.
He was delighted to eat half an orange donated by Mike.
Shortly afterwards, we found a ‘Donativo’, (Donation Only) tea place, where we could get a hot coffee.
It was ok.
Nothing special.
But we were certainly grateful enough for something warm to drink as it was only 9 degrees!
Baltic!
Or should that be ‘Portic’? 🥶
It had the feel of a commune.
A bit Hebden Bridge’ if you know what I mean?I
I love ‘HB’ by the way.
It is very ……. Bohemian!
This was totally ‘out there’ though!
Apparently it is a camp site.
But no one has ever chosen to camp there.🤷♂️
EVER!
The guy told me so.
He was ‘weirdly’ proud of it.
I understand why no one has ever stayed there:
It’s totally weird!
One of the ‘hosts’ there decided to tag along with us:
For 3 chuffing kilometres !
He never once stopped talking.
He certainly had some quirky views.
The trouble is, we were all a bit tired and not up to chatting at 07.30, about the diverse range of subjects he launched into: all at high speed!
He held with lots of conspiracy theories.
To be fair, Donna deserved a medal.
She listened!
But she also deserved a detention!
She humoured him! 🫣
The boys found him too much like hard work.
Canino Steve accelerated ahead, closely follow by Mike.
I loitered at the rear and pretended to be taking lots of photos.
I did take lots of photos.
I don’t want to disrespect to him.
But it was a massive relief when he turned back to his ‘tea shack’.
The trail became hillier and rougher, but it was always very pretty.
At times it was hard work, but we all walked well.
We passed some amazing Roman ruins and the lady on the desk allowed us free entry for a couple of photos.
The mosaic floors and colonnades were amazing.
The church in the distance marked out breakfast stop.
We were starving!
3 hours after starting, we arrived breakfast at ‘The Rock Cafe’
Brilliant!
Massive cheese and ham toasties.
And brilliant music:
Except when the occasional random American or Australian band were played.
Then it was back on the trail and my hunt for shortcuts.
My shortcut usage metres: even across car parks.
The Aussie Girls love their flower photos.
So I obliged Donna & ‘Blitzen’.
Blitzen?
She’s like lightening on the trail!
A walking ‘blitzkrieg!’
The wild flowers really were amazing.
Again!
After a number of successful short cuts, Mike and Donna said they wanted to take the official trail, which offered a more circuitous route through the forest..
Given the ongoing management issues that I have with my feet, I opted for a tarmac trudge, as did Canino Steve.
It was long, a bit dull, but I found a football stream on Talksport, and listened to the radio commentary of Arsenal losing again to Bournemouth!
This trip has been brilliant on so many levels, but certainly not for Camino Steve’s beloved Arsenal.
The ‘ Crowing Gooner’ is now a ‘Groaning Gooner!’
Manchester City are gunning for the Gooners! (especially after today, where they have thrashed Chelsea-ski.)
Football: the hope kills you every season.
Welcome to my Bristol City world Camino Steve.
It doesn’t share the vibrancy of El Camino.
That road was long.
But at least it was cool though.
Fortunately the lovely Marica was waiting for us at the next cafe and within 40 minutes we had all reconnected.
It should only have been 3.5 km to Coimbra at this point.
Sad to say, my navigation went awry.
We stumbled around the estate of what seemed to be a convent.
The statue of Jesus, with his golden embrace welcomed, ‘our second coming’, as we completed a full circle of the estate twice!
I discovered out what the tiny black circles with a line across them, meant on the Kommut walking App.
No entry!Th
Ard shy every path was closed off.
It was a painful lesson and stupid of me!
My error put at least 1km back onto our distance.
Oh well.
You win some and lose some!
Sorry Mike…. and Donna ….. and Camino Steve.
Mistakes were a common theme yesterday.
What possessed this driver to try to tow another car up a 1:14 gradient with hairpins?
Burnt rubber stung our nostrils!
Both cars were stuck and scraping and there was no apparent way out!
Finally!
We made Coimbra.
Bang on 4pm as I had told the sceptics in my entourage.
A strange procession had been dispatched to greet us.
What was that all about?
Donna and I selfied on that lovely bridge.
The wind quaffed my hair.
It was very windy.
500 metres later, we reached our hostel.
Only 139 steps up to the 4th floor!
‘139 steps!’ 📙
What a joke.
One hour and one blog later, we met up for our ‘Last Supper’.
I had cod, spinach and potatoes.
It was sublime!
Just the 18.5 miles / 28 km walked. W
At a day.
Most of you know the 2 reasons I walk this path.
Personal celebration.
And to support my younger sister and her family, as they mourn her daughter Hannah.
Hannah was talented, fierce and intelligent.
Mown down by a drunk driver, on the wrong side of the road.
Lizzie’s writing featured in a local French newspaper yesterday.
Poignant, tragic, heartbreaking.
She writes beautifully. S
She shouldn’t have ever had to write this though.
Lizzie Jones ~
Ordinary Days
People will tell you that anniversaries are hard, as are the “firsts”—the first Christmas, the first concert, the first holiday. You can brace yourself for those. You know they’re coming.
Grief isn’t just in the big things, or the obvious. It hides in the very ordinary, the seemingly dreary moments of daily life.
For me, the hardest are the rainy Tuesdays and the sunny Thursdays. The mornings when my first thought, before I’ve even opened my eyes, is that this is forever—that life will never feel ordinary again.
This morning, grief was in the shower. The bottles of shampoo and conditioner are lasting longer. Watching the water run freely down the drain—never again to be blocked by her long hair—I cried.
There are traces of her everywhere. The little things that bring her presence sharply into the room. Passing her red coat hanging at the bottom of the stairs, I catch her scent. I close my eyes and see her face, hear her laugh.
The half-eaten McFlurry in the freezer because her eyes were bigger than her belly.
The carton of Candy’up chocolate milk and the saucisson in the fridge. The house is full of her. We keep her close with stories and memories, speaking her name with love, always. I’m grateful for the laughter. The memories allow me to feel her presence while bearing her absence. Nine months of missing her, and a lifetime ahead.
The door in the back hall, painted with bright red chalkboard paint, still holds her welcome-home messages, countdowns to Christmas, and birthday greetings. The vintage stock cube tin of chalk still sits on the windowsill, and her last message, though slowly fading, is still there. I will not rub it out.
I read it and feel her there—still present, still part of the rhythm of our lives.
It says, “See you in a bit.”
Lizzie Jones is a mother of seven living in rural France. She writes about family, memory, and grief, following the recent loss of her daughter, Hannah.
She is also a stained and fused glass artist, capturing light, colour, and memory in her work, and is currently working on her first memoir.
If you wish to sponsor my walking efforts, the link is here:
Thank you so much if you do.
In conclusion, I heard from Glenn yesterday.
He messaged me last night, after he had read my blog.
Poor Glenn.
Such a lovely bloke.
Such a shame for him.
His Camino ended before it had really got going.
For good reason.
“If you want to tell people the importance of foot care, this may help!
Show the photos after dinner though!”
The photographs he sent me are posted underneath my biography, at the bottom of this post.
I hope you ate early.
If you don’t want to see then, then don’t scroll lower than my biography.
But, if you are tempted to walk a Camino, after reading about our exploits, then please remember one of the first bits of advice that I gave at the outset of this trip.
“You’ve got to look after your feet.”
YOU REALLY DO!
Please do consider a Camino: it is a very special undertaking: but not one to do so lightly.G
Glenn’s story, does not have to be yours.
Thanks for the read
Buen Camino.
Martin x
The quiz question and answer from Friday’s blog are below.
The 3 most popular nationalities who walk the Camino Portuguese are?
Answer; Spanish, American and German.
Today’s Question:
The Latin expression “Ultreia, Suseia, Santiago” refers to the common term, used to encourage medieval pilgrims walking ‘The Way of St James,’
What does it mean?
Martin Moorman is a 61 year old retired Headteacher who lives with his wife Nicky, daughter and her family in North Yorkshire, UK.
Happily married for 36 years, Martin and Nicky have 3 grown up children, all happily married too. In his spare time Martin loves walking, photography, football, renovating cooking and talking rubbish to anyone who will listen!
Scroll no further if you are eating or are particularly squeamish!
Ouch!
Martin Moorman 