WHEN WALKING

Home to Santiago – Day 52

Bilbao to Pobeña: 28km

My bad Spanish will get me into all kinds of trouble today. But first, a stroll through beautiful Bilbao, to visit two landmarks: the cathedral and Decathlon.

As I’m walking out of Bilbao, out towards the industrial areas along the river, I hear a voice behind me, and Iván has caught up. So I walk in company all the way along the river to Portugalete, the first stop, where he’ll be staying.

We stop halfway along the road in a café, where I order my usual clara con gaseosa, almost a shandy, and then I say, “Oh, with zero-percent beer, please.” And so I go back out to join Ivan with my zero-percent beer and my full-percent shandy. I know I can survive this for five kilometres at least.

And we continue along to Portugalete in the heat, with the cranes of the port and the roadworks, and one pilgrim at least standing at the bus stop, ready to give it all a miss.

When we get to Portugalete, one of the most exciting sights I’ve ever seen on a Camino: a hanging transporter bridge, the first ever built , to take us across the river. I can barely contain my excitement as we cross. I am tempted to stay on for a few more crossings.

As is often the case, our parting on reaching the town is abrupt. As soon as we cross the bridge, Ivan heads off for food and I carry on into town. I enjoy Portugalete. It’s a normal place with a lot of cake shops. I buy one bag of savoury buns and one bag of sweet to get me through the long stretch to Pobeña, another four hours.

Being late in the day, I’m expecting this to be a long, lonely stretch where I can catch up on my thoughts. As I walk out along the main road to turn onto the Via Verde, it seems this will be the case.

A man passes me and wishes me a good walk. I say thank you. A few seconds later, he comes back and tells me there’s a better way I can go by turning at such and such a point. I say thank you. Half a minute later, he turns back again and gives me a whole set of complicated instructions, to which I say yes many times and thank you, before he adds, “Oh, it’s probably better if I just accompany you there.” And so for the next three hours I am walking with Jésus.

Jésus is a very fast walker and he never stops. He’s also very chatty and not too bothered by my limited ability to respond and occasionally to understand. What I notice as we’re walking is that as often as I say “Sí” and nod, he says “¡Hombre!” and pauses. I gradually work out these are the responses each of us are giving when we’re not quite sure what the other has said but don’t want to give ourselves away.

But I understand enough to learn the names of the different berries, to learn about the mountains that can be climbed in this area, to learn of the importance of the local tower houses (although all details are lost on me), and I learn a little bit about the mines that were the heart of this area.

When we reach the town, he stops, shakes my hand and tells me “On the Camino you never need to walk alone.” I think to myself, “sometimes I do”. But not today. Today I was clearly meant to have company and the long walk along the via verde has flown by. Before I have a chance to invite him for a coffee, Jésus turns to walk the three hours back home.

Before crossing the beach to the hostel on the other side, I stop at the bar for another quick shandy. I can manage that now with just one and a half kilometres to go, but yet again my ‘clara’ is misheard as a ‘caña’ and I receive a pint of strong beer. I just about make the final leg.

When I arrive, it’s a struggle to make the bed, to do the washing, to have a shower, but with some day-old bread and some ham to help me, I recover just enough.

When I look around, it’s all new people now, people who started at Bilbao or people who started before Bilbao and took their rest day there. The only person I know in Pobeña tonight is Czech Gabi, who arrives at exactly the same time as I do and takes the extraordinarily squeaky bed above mine.

She is good at the social stuff and tells me to come and join her for something to eat in the square. When I get there, she’s with the new people, two Germans, the rest American. I order one last shandy, an actual single shandy this time, and I behave like a proper person until bedtime.