Chapter 24
It’s 04.10 on Wednesday 15 April and I’m struggling to sleep!
I’m ’Home Alone’ in a hostel some 16km due south of Porto, Portugal’s second city and one of Western Europe’s most popular city break destinations.
In a few hours time, I will have walked into the city, a short journey by recent standards and caught public transport out to the airport to meet my wife Nicky.
She flies into Porto at 1.30pm today.
NEWSFLASH: I finally arrived in Porto at 11.11 on Wednesday 15 April, after a 400 mile journey over 22 days.
Nicky and I have been married for 36 amazing years and known each other for more than 40.
Today I feel just like that love struck student back in 1982, when I first saw Nicky during Fresher’s week at our teacher training college in Hertfordshire.
“Baby face, you’ve got that pretty little baby face….” 🎵
She still has!
We were young!
Flipping young.
I looked about 12!
After spotting her during Fresher’s week, the truth be told I didn’t immediately cover myself in glory.
Apparently, though I have absolutely no recollection of saying it, (🫣), I sidled up to Nicky, at the Wall Hall Fresher’s Disco and said:
“I really fancy your best mate!’” 🫣
Julie has remained a best mate to Nicky ever since.
“We were young, we were free…”🎵
Her husband, Pete and I share a love of walking and camping.
Blimey!
We did look young!
As 2 families with 5 children between us, we would meet every July, at Dover, Poole or Portsmouth Harbour’s, with cars laden with camping gear, to catch a ferry to mainland Europe.
We would then camp our way across the continent, for most of the 6 week, school summer holiday.
Amazing memories and adventures.
Despite my inauspicious start, Nicky and I were soon dating.
The rest as they say, is history.
So today this 61 year old couldn’t sleep.
A love struck teenager all over again!
❤️💕💜💗
My journey to Porto began 3 weeks and 430 miles / /680 km ago in Cape St. Vincent, on the most extreme south westerly point of Portugal.
Together, with my friend Camino Steve, I walked the stunningly beautiful Fisherman’s Trail and then the first part of the official Camino Portuguese, from Lisbon to Porto.
On Monday, my youngest sister Lizzie will join me to walk the iconic ‘Coastal Route’ to Santiago de Compostella, in north western Spain.
We will walk a 300 km pilgrimage route that has been walked by millions of pilgrims (Peregrinos) before.
It has been an exciting journey so far, full of beauty, awe and wonder.
I’ve made some C’Amigo friends who I still hope to see further up the trail or in Santiago.
It has also been a poignant walk.
I have reflected deeply on the tragic loss of my 24,year old niece Hannah, who was killed in July 2025, in a head on car crash with a drink driver, who was driving down the wrong side of a French autoroute.
I walk this trail for Hannah, Lizzie and Dave and their devastated family.
They have set up a charity called ‘Les Histoires d’Hannah’ – ‘Hannah’s Stories’
The charity is funding and donating a first reading book to local school children in south west France, where Hannah lived.
So far, since I started walking, a fantastic £2200 has been raised from over 80 lovely people who have chosen to sponsor my walk.
If this appeals to you, please click on the link below and help her family to make Hannah’s legacy and her love of reading even more impactful.
Thank you so much.
Tuesdays walk was always going to be tough.
For a start I was ‘flying solo!’
I’d left Camino Steve a day or two behind as I made my ‘Porto Push.’
I had very few, sensibly priced, accommodation options.
One hostel possibility lay 23 km away: (too short), the other 44 km away(too far).
So I decided to wing it and just see how I got on.
And not get too worked up.
After all;
The Camino Provides’ right?
For 2 weeks I’ve been trying to carefully manage some impact sores and blisters on my feet.
The best treatment of course, is to stop walking.
Not quite so easy when you undertake a challenge like this.
So I left the hostel before 07.00 and immediately found a cafe serving breakfast.
I decided to fuel up: I had a long way to go!
Eggs!
Again. 🎉
My favorite and a good sign!
2 boiled eggs, hot buttered toast and a coffee came to €4!
Amazing value.
Portugal remains very good value for most food costs and also for eating out.
I cracked on, albeit with a slight limp in my stride.
The next 25km was a combination of suburban housing, well tended farm land and quiet country and minor roads.
Beauty surrounded me on all sides.
More yellows.
The single train track became my newtrail buddy.
I crossed it multiple times.
I had a momentary thought:
I could just hop on a train!
25 minutes to Porto.
Who would ever know!
“Get behind me Satan!”🫣
The fields were beautifully tilled, the soil rich and fertile.
This was a growing region: possibly Portugal’s ‘breadbasket’?
Brightly painted satellite dishes.
More wood store envy.
More industrial heritage from yesteryear.
The brick chimneys were huge.
And those beautiful ‘mist covered mountains’ . 🎵
I made good progress despite that very faint limp.
Ibruprofen has become a ‘bestie’ in the last 2 days.
The blue Camino scalloped signs and yellow arrows kept me on track.
Navigation was easy.
I saw the sign, snapped it and supported it.
A luxury spa gave me a siren call.
I resisted!
It was damp and drizzly but the weather was actually perfect for walking and for once I relished smooth tarmac.
I deliberately chose tarmac above rougher tracks of any design or description.
Portugal’s penchant for cobbles are an unpleasant experience for a peregrino with sore feet.
I zigzagged to softer surfaces whenever I could.
I probably added 1km to my total distance with the Zigs and Zags: but it was absolutely necessary!
The white flower is the Calla Lily, specifically the Zantedeschia aethiopica. While common names like “Copo-de-leite” (milk cup) are used in regions like Portugal and Brazil, it is also known as the Arum Lily or Jarro-do-jardim
I snapped Goosy, having a gander.
I found my first wild garlic of 2026.
Portugal’s spring seems to be about 4 weeks ahead of the UK.
Spring has sprung here and summer starts soon.
I had a long phone call with Lizzie: a latest gear check; things to bring and things to leave.
She’s targeting a 6kg rucsack I reckon.
She’d love to beat me!
Was 6.5kg.
Competitive sisters! 🙄
In the process of talking to Lizzie, I forgot to follow the signs.
All good though, as it meant I really could seriously start to shortcut again.
‘Shortcuts to Santiago’ could be a book title.
Not a ‘pure’ pilgrimage perspective but certainly a productive one.
My C’Amigo friend Jenni from Australia had reached Anadia and that big pink umbrella.
Nice shot Mary Poppins!
Jenny won’t shortcut at any price.
She is a ‘pure Pilgrim!’
I contemplated a ‘Trespassing Skinny Dip’.
But it really was too damp and ‘shrivelly’ for that nonsense.
A second breakfast with an ibuprofen infusion followed some 3.5 hours on from my first.
I’d already managed 12 miles and it was only 11.30.
‘Sir Limpalot’ was making headway on his trip to ‘Sore-toe’:
Whoops; I mean Porto, of course!
I had warned you about the wisteria hysteria in these parts.
My jury’s out:
Purple or white?
Both look great and smell heavenly.
I was now on the main N1 road into Porto.
It goes on forever: as main roads tend to.
‘Highway to Hell?’ 🎵
Not quite, but pretty close.
It was long, noisy, boring: but certainly kinder on my feet.
I stopped for a zero alcohol beer and a plate of chips.
I was the happiest man in that bar!
A peregrino needs his carbs!
It’s great to report healthy living still exists in Porto!
The remainder of the trip had few visual highlights.
Except for a rodent proof, historic grain store.
It helped.
As did ‘The eye of the tiger’.
But it is a bridge too far, to call the road to Porto ‘beautiful’.
I finally made it to the hostel.
The Hospitallero, (Hostel Host) was called Sav.
He was so friendly.
He has an arrangement with a local restaurant who deliver dinner at the requested time, from a menu choice of 2.
I chose the steak and chips and fried egg, with a salad and a beer.
Yes more eggs!
Yummy. The steak was really tender.
So nice not to have to walk anywhere for dinner.
It turned out I was the only pilgrim staying there!
I was so bushed I really didn’t care.
The hostel was previously owned by Andre Gomes, who played professional football for Everton in 2018.
He was born here!
They get everywhere those flipping Toffees 🤷♂️🙄
In my chat with Lizzie, we talked about the pending court case, involving the driver of the car, that hit Hannah’s car head on, on that tragic night.
He will be prosecuted later this year.
Another milestone that the family have to face in this painful journey.
On my big trail hikes, I had often found myself thinking deeply about the whole concept of ‘forgiveness’.
There’s something about us adults.
‘Sorry seems to be the hardest word’. 🎵
I can be as bad as anyone on that front, so the ‘F’ word challenge feels quite personal.
As humans we share a number of characteristics: many good, some bad.
As a retired teacher it has often bemused me that children could be so forgiving, but once the child becomes an adult, for so many of us, the ability to ‘forgive and forget’ goes west.
I’ve caused offence in my life.
I know it.
We all will have.
I know I’ve sometimes found saying sorry to be tough.
Sometimes?
Often more like.
Saying sorry and still justifying your actions is not apologizing.
Many of us do it.
I’m definitely not alone in having that flaw.
But that is still no excuse.
When I felt so lost, a few years ago, when I was hit by the ‘Perfect Storm’ of loss: bereavement, retirement, relocation and renovation I was really hard work to live with.
I’m sorry for what I put my family through.
I suffered and in doing so, so did they.
As a family we are so fortunate to be through that.
I now consider myself to be the most contented man in Yorkshire.
I try to value what I have and not get too hung up on what I haven’t.I
Try not to let the sun set on a disagreement with a loved one.
It’s not easy though.
‘Nobody said it was easy!’🎵
I believe that tough experience has actually moulded me: the tougher things in life often do.
I’m still no angel.
I still have heaps of flaws, but I do hope it has helped to improve me.
Make me kinder, more grateful, more understanding.
Personal faith can help with that too of course.
I have a strong faith: all my family do.
In my extended family it is spread across all forms of Christian expression.
I’m grateful for that faith, because when the chips were down, it sustained me.
Even though I was so angry for the circumstances for the storm that hit me.
Lizzie and her family have a strong faith too.
Linked to the Catholic expression.
I’m guessing it has sustained them, especially in their crippling hour of need!
Her parish priest JK has been a rock.
He conducted Hannah’s funeral last July, just a few days after her death.
He doted on Hannah.
That must have been such a hard funeral to lead.
Lizzie and Dave had asked me to subtly photograph that funeral.
All the details.
Hannah’s boyfriend Jacques was in an induced coma after the crash.
So he couldn’t attend and was totally unaware of the tragic events of that week.
Lizzie wanted him to see just how many people had attended the funeral.
Taking those photos was challenging.
It isn’t common to be asked to photograph a funeral.
I wanted to be subtle: hidden, dignified.
Watching Hannah’s 6 brothers and sisters carry her coffin was so sad and yet so moving.
So yesterday I asked Liz about her own challenges with forgiveness.
She sent me this beautifully crafted reply.
She gave me permission to use it in this blog.
“C.S. Lewis wrote, “To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.”
It sounds right in theory. In practice, it is anything but simple.
I have tried not to give too much thought to the man responsible for Hannah’s death.
I know the facts, of course. He chose to take his car to an after-work party, chose to drink excessively, and then chose to force his way through the péage barriers and drive the wrong way up the motorway, causing the head-on collision that killed her.
I haven’t wanted to give him space in my thoughts. That space is reserved for my beautiful girl. He is not worthy of it.
But last week, more information about him came to light. I learned that he has a three-year-old daughter.
And that brought with it a whole new wave of emotion.
Hurt — because Hannah was three once.
Anger — because he has irreversibly damaged his daughter’s life as well as ours.
And then, unexpectedly, sadness.
I have been living with sadness since July 4th last year, but this felt different. It has stayed with me, and I have come to realise that some of it is for him.
Is this the seed of forgiveness, newly planted in my heart? It feels too soon for that. We haven’t even had the trial yet.
I know that his response to any punishment will, rightly or wrongly, shape my feelings towards him. If he were to appeal any sentence, it would feel like saying, “I’m sorry, but…”
True sorrow does not argue. It accepts.
If a seed of forgiveness is there, it is still buried. It will need time. And it will need healing.”
I truly hope our walk together to Santiago de Compostella will help Lizzie in some way.
She and her family have done amazingly well.
But have no doubt, it is a challenge every day, for them to get up, get out and get on.
Thanks for the read.
Buen Camino.
Martin x
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!
Martin Moorman 