Home to Santiago – Day 70
A Caridad to Puerto de Tapia: 17km
I am on the verge of making a decision I haven’t made before. I may cut a stage short. Today is due to be my last day in Asturias, my last day on the coast, and somehow, although I didn’t think it was possible, the coast today manages to top them all. I could keep on walking to my planned destination of Ribadeo, or I could stop at every opportunity and never make .
If I do a half stage, I will drop behind. Everyone I know at the moment is going to Ribadeo. What’s more, this morning both Grace and Stefan gave me their breakfasts. That is not something to give up lightly.
On the other hand, the picture of the little municipal albergue at the halfway point today, Puerto de Tapia, shows it perched on the edge very coast I’m enjoying so much. My mind is slowly being made up. Besides, I’m getting to know new people, the people half a stage behind. It’s the gift of walking late. Who knows who might turn up at the albergue of Tapia?
Already this morning I’ve walked with a group of completely new New Zealanders, who bundled out of a car as I was leaving the café at A Caridad, my starting point. They put ideas of New Zealand walks into my head. They talked about having kids who move to Europe. They’ll never come back, they say.
Fabian, who jumped in the cold sea the other day, joins me on the first spectacular headland. Like me, he’s a coast hugger. With every step we are exclaiming at what we see, as waves crash over rocks as big as high-rises. Again he asks me to take a series of photos of him, this time, walking to the distant point of the headland. “All the arrows should point to him”. I get none taken of me.
As I approach the next headland, I see the Russian just staring down into a big maritime abyss. “Wait”, he says, when he sees me, “it’s like a bomb!” It’s true. Every minute or so, when a wave crashes in to the chasm between the cliffs, a huge spume of sea spray shoots up with a massive ‘boom’.
When I get to the albergue at Puerto de Tapia, workmen are still putting the final touches to the showers. The place is completely new. The man in charge tells me it’s my first day. He forgets to tell me where anything is in the albergue, but he does tell me where to eat. I am early for once. I shall celebrate with a menu del día!
As I sit down to eat, I see a large man in hiking gear sitting at a far table. I have a suspicion this is the giant Hungarian I have heard of on the pilgrim network. When I registered at the albergue, I had seen the name above mine in the register – Márkus from Sopron. I decide to focus on lunch and control my excitement for a little bit longer.
The lunch is too big. The first course is a quadruple portion of macaroni and chorizo, the second course, cachopo with chips, the third lemon tart, bread and a bottle of wine on the side. I don’t like to waste food. I go back to the albergue to sleep it off.
As I come back into the albergue after an early evening walk, a man is sitting at the table, writing his notes. This turns out to be Bernard from France. We chat quite fluently, him more than me, until eventually a large figure enters the room. At last!
At first I struggle to remember a single word of Hungarian, but Markus is very patient, very kind, speaks very clearly and waits for words to start to come. Then my job is settled for the evening. I will translate from French to Hungarian and back, often speaking Hungarian by mistake with Bernard and French to Markus, but a conversation takes place. A conversation which, having assumed the role of interpreter, I am required to contribute nothing at . This suits me just fine. It is late. I am too tired to be more than a conduit.
When I finally get to bed, I have payment enough for my efforts, when I hear the words “Jó éjszakát!” How nice.
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