The Portuguese way from Alvaiázere to Santarém
I was so excited to finally take a turn away from the railroad tracks today! So even though it was only 7.40 AM on a Sunday and very foggy again, I was in good spirits. I crossed a river and turned left on an ancient Roman road. There were some stones underneath the sand. Roman stones? Who knows. The sun was slowly rising and it greeted me with such warm tones of orange. It came out from behind some trees at the end of a field. Its rays were reflecting in puddles and spider webs. Good morning indeed!
I walked passed a farm and in between fields on a paved road, but there was not much going on. It wasn’t until a bit later that I noticed more and more cyclists coming by. We all went into the same direction: a small town called Valada, along the Tagus river. Before I got there I already saw a few houses. My path went over a dyke and I looked down at the road, the fields and the houses. Valada was lively. People were sitting outside at the café or were jogging and the cyclists were taking their breaks at a park on the waterfront. I took a break too, still on the dyke that runs all the way through the town and beyond.
Just as I left Valada a man drove by in a small van. He was ‘walking’ his dog. Well, the dog was walking at least. It ran enthusiastically over the dyke, occasionally stopping to sniff something. At the end of the dyke I saw them again. Only this time the old man had left his vehicle. He grabbed a big stick and started chasing the dog to get him into the car. How it ended I do not know, but the dog was way too fast and way too happy to be outside!
Signs of other pilgrims
I passed some horses near the water, but they looked really skinny and sad. The long straight road passed some more settlements and even another café that advertised pilgrims were very welcome. When I’d passed all the houses and farms, I saw vineyards and fields as far as I could see. My rural road went paralel to a main road that I could see in the distance. I was still going straight and I would for a few more hours. I found a nice spot on the side for a picnic and was just taking a bite of my sandwich when a cyclist approached. He had bags on the side of his bike and looked like a pilgrim himself. He asked if I needed anything and then kept going, wishing me a ‘Buen Camino’.
Just when I thought the road had been the same for long enough, I discovered messages in the sand. ‘Keep smiling’ and ‘You are amazing’ had been written in the sand. A few days later I would meet the guy who wrote them. It made me smile. The road turned left through the vineyards and I met some cheerful local cyclists. “Santiago?” the man in the front asked. “Yes!” I said enthusiastically. I saw a hill in the distance started to wonder where exactly Santarém was located. I should nearly be there, but I didn’t see anything. I did see a little plane. It looked like it was taking off and landing and repeating that the whole time. There was a tiny airfield, so perhaps someone was practicing.
Behind the airfield I starting climbing up an asphalt road. I had to be careful since the cars did not seem to expect people on foot. At the end of the road I found Santarém. Just there another cyclist with bags passed me and waved at me. It was still early in the afternoon and I headed in the first nice café I saw for some tea and cake. It turned out my hostel wasn’t much further, right in the middle of the old town. Inside I found the cyclist that had passed me when I’d entered town. He was Spanish and was cycling a big part of the Camino Portugues. We each had a whole dorm to ourselves in the quirky hostel. The owner was kind enough to show me where to find the highlights of town and I enjoyed the rest of the day seeing the city, like the locals and day trippers.
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