When the crew finally got bored of siesta (probably even the ants in the grass were whispering, “Come on, enough lying around”), they eventually agreed to our brilliant marathon plan. Well… almost all of them. The older gentleman decided to hang his hiking poles up for good and end his Camino. Fair enough – he was already patched up like an old couch, and the pain was simply too much. I respect that.
But we got a new member – a guy who walks 40 km a day as if he’s just popping out for bread. Naturally, he decided to join us the next day. The plan was to start at 5:00. Ha! Sounds great on paper. In practice? Not so much. Our retired Pavarotti – the older Spaniard – decided to give us his farewell opera in the form of snoring. A free concert, no tickets, no ovations, but with an encore until midnight. And me? I was his most loyal listener, since sleep wasn’t happening. So a 5:00 start? No thanks. We set off at 7:30 instead, and thank God the sun was nowhere to be seen.
Because of the fire situation, we first stopped in Lubian to figure out what options we even had for continuing. Getting there meant 17 km with just enough climbing to make the lungs mutter: “How about turning back, eh?” The smoke was so thick I felt like I’d walked into a 90s smoke-filled disco – just without the music and with more sweat.
From Lubian to the end of the stage – all 42 km – the wind kept us company. And not the pleasant summer breeze that gently ruffles your hair, but the kind of wind that nearly blows your socks off. Walking was twice as hard, and the athlete in our group swore it was literally blowing his legs away. We had two more breaks, since three of the hikers had never in their lives walked more than 35 km. I could’ve easily gone straight through, but the Camino is walked together, so I waited. We reached the finish – A Gudiño – at 19:00. Had I been alone, I’d have been there ages earlier, already downing my well-earned beer. Instead, I drank patience.
A Gudiño welcomed us with fire. Literally. For 15 km we walked through burnt land. Black, dead scenery, smoke, wind… almost like a scene from an apocalyptic movie. And since the Camino path was threatened, we walked the second half on the road. Didn’t bother me – I actually like asphalt, I like the rhythm of even steps. But the merciless wind gifted me a pounding headache, to the point where I wanted to ask at reception if they provided aspirin along with Wi-Fi.
When we finally arrived, we were all coughing like old smokers. And then the lady at the hostel brought us another cheerful update: the next two stages were closed. Not just the Camino, but even some of the roads. The smoke is so thick you could cut it with a knife and still not get through. So? End of the heroic walk for now. We weren’t thrilled, but had to accept it. The plan: the next day would be a “holiday” – instead of walking, at 10:55 we’d hop on a bus and cover two stages straight to Ourense. Safety first, after all. No need to give civil protection any more grey hairs.
At this hostel there were also two Portuguese guys who wanted to cycle the Camino. Civil protection sent them back because the road was closed. So they landed here by accident. Tomorrow they plan to continue – no idea where, but good luck to them.
In the evening we went for dinner together, where – surprise, surprise – we all stared at our phones trying to find a solution. But the more we scrolled, the clearer it became: no chance. You can’t go headfirst through a wall – especially not if the wall is on fire. So: bus tomorrow, end of story. If nothing else, at least I’ll finally sleep like a human being.