From the Beach of Cathedrals to the Camino de Santiago

I have been looking forward to taking a few days off from the family and joining the army of pilgrims to have a few days just for myself. That was the plan. However, after the scare while paddling, I didn't want to immediately separate from my family and give Joni another shock. Although it had been announced and discussed for a long time, he insisted on joining the Camino de Santiago, which was completely opposite to my idea of peace and contemplation. So, the imaginary pilgrim's staff was packed away and we drove back to the beach of Cathedrals, where Gerhard had already registered us online for this visit as only about 4,000 visitors are allowed access per day. At low tide and unfortunately with slightly cloudy visibility, we admired the architectural masterpieces of nature, beautifully shaped by the sea into caves and passages. One feels small in the face of this visible power.

From the coast, the path led back into the interior, where I finally wanted to start my pilgrimage. From O Cebreiro, my first stage was supposed to go to Triacastela, then on to Sarria and Portomarin, where I wanted to meet up with the family again. However, they didn't take it seriously and preferred to drive behind me at a walking pace as a supply vehicle, a la Tour de France. Anyway, I started walking from O Cebreiro. There I bought a poncho because thunderstorms were forecasted for the afternoon. Initially, I walked uphill at a leisurely pace in the best weather. However, I didn't see a single pilgrim anywhere, but the path was marked with the unmistakable scallop shell, so I was on the right track. After walking for 3km, suddenly I heard a honk behind me, my supply vehicle had discovered me and greeted me enthusiastically, as if we hadn't seen each other for weeks. After realizing that I hadn't even reached O Cebreiro yet, but that the town was still 1km away, I took the opportunity and let myself be taken there. Upon arrival, my actual stage of over 21km started. There were also a few more pilgrims here, many of them cycling. While I just threw a typical Ola to passers-by, I was mostly greeted with a Bon Camino. My pace and greeting, my light luggage, my lack of a pilgrim's staff and pilgrim's hat, my inadequate footwear, and above all, no scallop shell, made me recognizable as a newcomer pilgrim to any observant onlooker. But I didn't care, I was happy to be here, in the breathtaking landscape, experiencing real physical exertion and being with myself. I felt really good. After walking 12km, I took a break where the others also rested and ate my packed bread. The next 12km went a lot less smoothly. As an average European with a car, I expected that, of course. After the short bread break, my newly acquired burgundy-red poncho came into use because it was drizzling slightly. But under this XXL plastic bag, which also hid my backpack, I felt well protected. Unfortunately, only until the point when the initial drizzle turned into a heavy thunderstorm and I felt like I was walking along the mountaintop. I already knew that a thunderstorm in the mountains has a completely different intensity, but I didn't expect it to be so severe. By now, my thighs were soaked and I pondered while walking whether I should stand under one of the few trees or throw myself flat on the ground and thus into the rapidly converging streams of water on the path, both didn't seem optimal to me, until suddenly a group of pilgrims overtaken me, walking briskly, convincingly going their own way, as if it were clear that pilgrims are under special protection from above. Helpless as I was, I joined the group and survived. As is well known, after rain comes sun, and how I finally reached Triacastela on that day and fell asleep in pain, I will report in Part 2.