8th Day: From Valença to Ponte de Lima

At 22 degrees, I started running at 9am with motivation, a 3L of water, and enough provisions.

Since I initially had to run through smaller villages and busy roads, and the temperature quickly rose towards 30 degrees, I feared that I had already passed the most beautiful part of the journey.

While at the seaside I didn't have such high temperatures and still had a light breeze, now I was running on asphalt at over 30 degrees, hoping that I wouldn't be hit by a sleepy truck driver.

You simply had to look out at the sea and the waves on the beach, then you would be delighted again.

At times, I returned to the Camino de Santiago, which I was now walking in the opposite direction, because the other pilgrims I actually met today wanted to go to Santiago.

Therefore, it was not always easy to find the right way at junctions, so I roughly followed the expressway that leads to Braga.

When I entered wooded areas again, I at least got some shade and also a bit more nature with vineyards, rivers, and old Roman roads.

But I noticed that it was constantly uphill. As I found out later, I had climbed to almost 300m in height.

When I felt like I was almost over the ridge, two Italians came towards me, looking as if pilgrimages had somehow become an Olympic sport: both wearing the same outfit, high-performance walking poles, and special sunglasses. They only missed the aerodynamic helmet that cyclists wear.

One of them pointed his thumb behind him and said to me: 'it's a difficult road, my friend!'

Yeah, what did he think, how did I get up there? By cable car? I also had a 'difficult road'!

Along the way, I found two springs where I could refill my bottle. Water was the most important thing today.

However, you shouldn't just drink everything and check if there's a sign on it saying that it is not controlled water.

I had booked a room in Ponte de Lima through Booking.com during a break.

When the route planner told me that I still needed an hour to get to Ponte de Lima, and I was walking on the expressway again, the thought of hitchhiking crossed my mind because I was completely exhausted. I dismissed the thought because I wanted to make it on my own, but also because I knew that no one would voluntarily pick up such a sweaty person.

The break the day before had been just right because I'm sure that otherwise I wouldn't have made it through the hardships of this day. I had recharged my mental batteries, and never felt like I wouldn't be able to do it. In the end, it was my head telling my body, which was barely functional, to pull itself together. It was definitely a limit that I had now crossed, and my inner complainer didn't dare to complain.

When I finally arrived at the accommodation in Ponte de Lima after 11 (!) hours and 47 km, I was relieved but also proud that I had pulled through. It was basically my personal highlight of the journey.

When you achieve something like that, you gain more confidence in your own abilities.

I took a bath and happily finished the bottle of white wine that the host had provided. I had a small apartment in the old town of Ponte de Lima all to myself.

Afterwards, I went to eat something and then walked back with two wooden legs, finally to sleep.