Camino Portugues Day 1 - Porto to Matosinhos

One of the most important documents to carry on a Camino is the Credential, which is like a passport. Pilgrims (for that is how the walkers are described, whether or not we are walking for religious reasons) have to get this piece of card stamped at least twice a day and walk at least 100km on the way to Santiago to be eligible for the certificate of completion. I am not bothered about the certificate, but I’m keen to live this experience fully, so David and I went to the cathedral before breakfast to get my credential’s first stamp. The man in the credential office had the kindest eyes. In front of me in the queue were 3 Italian ladies of my age who were singularly relaxed about their preparation, with no idea which route they were taking.  He took such care to explain every option in halting Italian that I thought he’d eventually feel he had to be sure they were safely on the right path and go with them.

I went up to the cathedral to take the obligatory departure photo, where I met Helen. It was good to see another Brit - the list in the cathedral office had many people already signed up for today from many countries but none from the UK. We talked plans and routes, and then David and I went for a much needed breakfast.

We had a brilliant time in Porto yesterday, having signed up for a self guided food tour. This involved making our way to various off-the-beaten-track cafes and restaurants, showing a QR code and being given a local speciality of some sort, together with wine. I’m not a big drinker, and this morning I definitely felt the need to take on some carbohydrate to absorb the residual alcohol. Fortunately carbs are not hard to find in Portugal. I had a great pan con tomate and a pastel de nata, the breakfast of kings.

I said goodbye to David and walked downhill from the old town where we’ve been staying, making my way to the river.

There are various routes from Porto to SdC, and the one I’ve chosen for the first couple of days is the newest one, the Senda Litoral. This avoids walking out of Porto through the industrial area, and instead hugs the river and the sea. There were no shell markers on the road or the signposts for the Senda Litoral, but it’s hard to get lost (even for me!) when the river is there as a guide. The path ran right alongside the water, and sometimes above it, on a vertiginous structure through which the river could be seen far below.

I walked alongside about 40 teenagers who had got off a coach and then had set off in my direction at quite a clip. Some of the girls cheerfully addressed me in French, and so I asked them (in my much poorer French than theirs) where they were going. They said they had no idea. We laughed at the mysterious nature of life. And feeling that I needed to know more, I caught up with their charming, though harassed  teachers. I shared that I was once one of them, and they ruefully said that the girls knew exactly what they were going to see - the immersive Klimt exhibition. We agreed that teenagers are the same the world over. They were all so lovely, and the whole group waved me off as I continued past the art gallery.

The Senda Litoral follows the Douro, the iconic Portuguese river as it spills out into the sea. The river was a joy to observe. I was watching things that will have been unchanged for years, like the fishermen and the boats, and others that are more recent, like the helicopters.

And alongside was the architecture of Porto, replete with the distinctive tiles of this region.

Even the McDonalds was worth looking at, though this wasn’t as spectacular as the branch we saw yesterday in the centre of the city, which is described as the most beautiful in the world, an art deco treasure.

As the Douro opened out, the side of the road got less commercial and more dedicated to leisure. There was a wide walkway which had a number of happily strolling people , and a large area dedicated to outside fitness, on which

men were sweating extremely profusely.

The sun was punctuated by the shade of municipal planting, there was the smell of the sea in the air and I walked feeling immensely warm privileged to have the chance to be here, and that my aging body still had the strength to do this.

I stopped to chat to Ron and Bev from Vancouver Island, carrying McGregor the bear who belongs to a friend of theirs who sends him off to join others on their travels.

Although I was feeling pretty fresh, as the walking was flat and easy, I ducked off the path to look at the beach at Praia da Luz. And then it seemed rude not to sit at the rather smart beach bar, to have a freshly squeezed orange juice whilst looking out to sea.

I caught up on a series of texts from my friends who were commiserating at my pain in having to do sewing (my least favourite activity) when attaching my Camino badge to my rucksack. As my great friend Janet said, it’s probably going to be the biggest challenge of the fortnight. I was delighted to get some other messages that show people are following the blog too.

Off again along the front, now with seaside bars and apartments lining the road, with parks of trees providing some shade. They were beautiful, and distinctive, so I Googled them - to discover that they appear to be a tree indigenous to New Zealand, the Pōhutakawa. There were parakeets enjoying them too.

Although it was very sunny, it wasn’t too hot as there was a steady breeze. It can be so windy along this Camino that they close the board walks that will come later. Today was more a gentle zephyr.

At the Foz roundabout I doffed my hat to somebody important who was memorialised on a horse with seagulls pooing on his head. I shook off my Ozymandian inclinations, as I walked into Matosinhos, my stop for the night. I’d deliberately planned a short walk today, as David was joining me having hired a car. He’s going to walk with me tomorrow, and then will be going off on his own adventure, playing golf for a few days.

We checked into our lovely B and B where the owner produced coffee and cake and lots of information on the area. Matosinhos is a much larger town than I was expecting, and it feels well to do, with wide avenues, an architect designed promenade, and a massive beach of white sand. David and I walked around it for another two hours, taking in many of the sights that the woman at the tourist information office took great pains to explain to me whilst stamping my credential. I think she was worried that we were not going to do her town credit, but she needn’t have fretted, we saw a lot. Matosinhos is en fête (or whatever the Portuguese equivalent is) until June, and the festival involves a large funfair and what looked like a Christmas market minus tat and plus cheese and churros.

We really enjoyed wandering about the town, looking into the remarkably ornate church, in which someone was painstakingly repairing the wooden part of a memorial.

And we eventually ended up back at the beach.  There, there was a moving sculpture to commemorate a tragedy at sea in 1947, where a number of fishing boats were lost, leaving 92 widows and 142 children without their fathers. The town is still very much connected to the fishing industry, I’m guessing that those anxieties still grip the sailors’ loved ones.

And finally, after having walked along it all day, I got my feet in the water. It was a hot tramp over a very long expanse of sand to get there, but it was refreshingly worth it.

Stats

Distance travelled - 7 miles / 11.5 km on the Camino, another 5 miles / 8 km sightseeing

Total ascent - a tiny 132 feet / 40m

Number of hours one of the other guests spent continually in the tiny pool - 6

Numbers of names of clothes shops that made me laugh - 1

Meal at Meia-Nau - whole dorada fished today off Matosinhos. Spectacular.

Local tipple - got to be vinho verde with that fish.