1242 miles on the road ( and English Channel ), From Brum to Puebla de Sanabria . I am writing this up on what is technically the third day of this trip. We are now on the Isla de Puebla campsite,in the Zamora Province, not far from the Portuguese border.A thunderstorm, expected everywhere in the North of Spain, is passing overhead, small slices of ice are pinging on the roof of the motorhome, thankfully for only a short period. The temperature here @15.30 was 27* – it is now 14*. The weather will get back to normal overnight, according to forecasts and then tomorrow we make for 🇵🇹 Portugal.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. The journey began last Friday morning when Hannah and I drove down to Berkhamsted to my son Daniel’s house. Great to catch up with the three grandchildren, Nelly and Dan.
Super bbq as well. We left Dan’s place just before 1 am,giving ourselves plenty of time, we thought, to arrive at Dover for the 4.10 am ferry to Dunkirk.Not so – warning signs on the M25 warned of a closure on the M20, between junctions 9 – 11. Well, not to worry we said, there will be diversion signs. Leaving the motorway at Junction 8 as directed, we looked in vain for Diversion signs – not a chance. A lorry,registered Czech Republic, was just in front of us, so I reasoned he would be making his way to the port of Dover. Thankfully I was correct in my assumption as after 30 minutes on Kent country lanes, we reemerged on the M 20 South of the closure. Saved by a European driver – again long live the EU and borderless trade between our countries.
Instead of the usual hour’s dawdling on the quayside,we were directed straight on to the ferry and enjoyed a calm, restful crossing. The unlovely aspect of the port of Dunkirk.
Dawn had long broken over the Pas de Calais and in developing sunlight we cruised Southwards towards our planned breakfast stop – a superb Aire , Baie De Somme –
Built to fit, ecologically in with the Somme Valley.
Traditionally, I avoid toll roads, seeeking to use France’s excellent Route Nationales, but experience has taught that an expedient use of the Peage network can be very time saving. In the past, like most drivers, you pull up at the toll booths, wait your turn and extract a ticket, then on leaving the motorway, queue again then insert your ticket and credit card to make payment . My attention had been jealously drawn to drivers who entered and exited via lanes reserved exclusively for “ telepeage”.
Thanks to a fellow rambler and friend of mine, Rob, I was given a link to a website,”emovis -tag.co.uk”from where you could obtain tags – two separate tags – one for France and one for Spain \ Portugal.
These you attach to your windscreen on the mottled shaded area behind the rear view mirror.The instructions said that as you approach the barrier, a device by the barrier will read your tag, securely extract your unique reference number and the automatically open the barrier.
It was with baited breath that we approached “liber-t” lane on our first Peage of the trip. What if it didn’t work? Would we be stuck and have to endure the impatient beeping of horns by those waiting behind us?….The tag beeped and the barrier lifted to great cheering and flag waving in the rear of the bus! As it has on every occasion since in both France and Spain. Not only is time saved – no queuing – but it saves the fellow passenger the great inconvenience of half emerging from the cab door to extract a ticket and/ or make payment at every toll. The bad news is that you get billed at the end of the month.
The first campsite was Bois de Chèvre at Bonnaval – a site with good memories of previous stopovers. Mon Dieu what a change – it looked unkept, piles of leaves,and an aura of almost desolation – the jolly lady we remembered was no longer there and it looked to be one chap in charge. It had been a long drive and so it would do for one night.
Even the bar/restaurant was closed and aperitifs had to be purchased from the one man band in Reception. 
Most unusual for France and I would imagine any reports on Camping/Caravanning websites would be quite damning, not withstanding the facts the that the shower- toilet block was spotless – though very 70s and tired looking.A great pity.
Sunday,7 th July en route for Spain. Taking the direct route. 75 miles or so to and around Tours. Went passably enough on the Route Nationale.
Needed to get around Bordeaux on its infamous “ rocade”. Driving wasn’t too hectic considering a lot of Parisians were en route South West. A good number eventually turned west to La Rochelle and Isles de Re. And as it turned out,Going around Bordeaux was no problem at all and it was not a problem to carry on towards the Spanish border.
The Pyrenees came into view passing by Bayonne.
Love the EU even more when you don’t realise you have crossed the “ frontier” between France and Spain – seamless. Bless.🇫🇲
Plan was to stay overnight at Camping Olividen just over the border, in the Basque Country…which we managed to find after a couple of reversals around roundabouts – Good job it was Sunday…Quirky little site, situated between a hyper market and a main road, but you were oblivious to them as everywhere was masked by trees.
We were ensconced and enjoying the space when a French lad opposite approached and asked if we had any “ jump leads”? He was with his wife and a little girl – an ancient Citroen Clio plus a tiny, neat caravan. D’ accord, long story cut short but eventually we got the car going by which time we had innumerable offers of help from fellow campers, including Dutch,French,Spanish and us. We drank to fellowship and the UK in the EU.
Treated ourselves to a meal in the camp restaurant- muy bien.
The weather forecast was for heavy cloud and some inevitable storms across the North.
Leaving San Sebastián was tricky but we made it out on to the autovia,many tunnels and occasional viaducts on the motorway-good driving conditions despite occasional “ Spits in The wind”. Great drive, so relaxing compared to the UK. Numerous places to relax, get fuel,etc. And diesel was so much cheaper than France – looking at €15 cheaper to fill up on a full tank.
Decision made to go on to Puebla de Sanabria, in Spain, which was the original route – storms would affect us whether in Spain or Nothern Portugal – got there in time for Han to have a swim before the aforesaid thunderstorm kicked in – just an average thunderstorm.
Shelved plan to walk in to this superb village – “The Rough Guide to Spain” hasn’t even included it – visit in the morning by which time the weather should have normalised.🌤
The campsite is on the river,just to the right,but masked by trees.
We had the village to ourselves and in bright sunshine enjoyed the tour – shops included.
I have a photo with e next to the sentry, taken when passing through here on the Via de la Plata,four years or so ago.
Shops and then a ” Camino style” breakfast of Tostada with tomato and olive oil.
What a contrast in the weather and even more so now as I am catching up withis Blog on the terrace of the campsite in Caminha,Portugal – 30* – and a glass of Vino Verde.
We remembered this gateway well as it was through there we entered the city after completing the last leg of the Via de la Plata two years ago – the Silver Route – recalled some of the fine wine,too!
There was a bbq heating up nearby but it was a little early for a blow-out so we settled for a beer and free tapas.
Such a short life and this memorial to her as a Pelegrina, took me back to that Mary Hopkins song. And as I sauntered on the idea came to me that as this was the last day of the Camino,I should incorporate some 🎶. 
The last of Hannah’s cakes went down well with this last cup coffee before I …go – cue for my favourite Camino song – ” One More Cup of Coffee” by Roger McGuin & Calexico.
Onwards to A Lavacolla, where in the Middle Ages, Pilgrims would wash themselves before entering the city – the name ” lavacolla” has one of the most debated origins of all the Camino towns. They range from the bland ” field at the bottom of the hill” to the more profane ” scrub your scrotum”!
Don’t worry, it didn’t inspire a song – open to suggestions though.
” Walk-in My Baby Back Höme” by Nat King Cole
Passing The last of the forests as the outskirts of Santiago are approaching. Mount Gozo – The Mount of Joy – as it is known. Originally because you could see the Spires of the Cathedral for the first time, then someone had the idea of planting some trees, which now block the view. It is also the place where the Pope celebrated Mass in the 90s and there is a very large, unlovely sculpture to mark the event and in much need of TLC.
Eventually you reach the Porto da Camino and suddenly you are there.
I entered a little ahead of Mac and someone offered to take my photo, as hundreds of thousands have done before.
Mac was soon on the scene and another kind, young lady took great pains to commemorate our arrival.
Then it was on to our digs for the next two nights San Pinario. Happy memories again.
The Way went downhill and I didn’t need the signpost to alert me to the fact that I was now walking the Camino Frances, which had subsumed both the Del Norte and the Primitivo.Arzua was now in the far distance;not so the crowds.There was no shortage of cafes on this section – my choice was based on two factors – was it authentic and was there a queue? The bottle bar did not pass muster.
By now I was telling myself ” I told you so” – too many people, too many stalls. I saw more trinkets on this section in two hours, than I did in ten days on the Primitivo . I realised that it was getting to me so I stopped for coffee and a rethink at Bar Lino. I liked it because it reminded me of Theresa May -LINO – leader in name only. Cheered by that thought if not by the prospect of which arse would follow her,I relaxed and chatted to Frances,from New Zealand, who I met whilst standing by the door to the aseos. I encouraged her to skip the queue for the ladies and use the caballeros’.
The Frances – it is what it is,I reminded myself and vowed to see only the positives. And As the photos show,I did.
The Frances has encouraged much development, both on the Camino itself and in places where it intersects with the N 547. Many autovias and major trunk roads in Spain have followed in the footsteps of the Caminos.
PR Estella Dorada is on the main road, as are many albergues and hostals. I have stayed here before and it is a simple,clean,welcoming place. Off with the boots and down to a local cafe for a Sandwicha Mixta Con Huevos – a long time favourite of mine.
Later that evening, we basked in all too rarely seen sunshine with our two amigos,Mick and Mike, welcoming Chris, from County Cork, walking with his fifteen year old son.
Well a transformation might be an overstatement, but I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of numbers as we left Melide on the Frances,only to be brought up short by a Trinkets stall immediately on the Camino. 
Yet, within a few metres, behold an ancient Romanesque church – the Catholic Church does not have a proud record when it comes to bedfellows and she has always been comfortable in the lap of Capitalism – beautiful place.
There’s is no lack of cafes on the Frances and this one did not disappoint.
It was time for lunch and being near Arzua, the locally but famous cheese is a must in a bocadillo.This is a long established cafe on the Frances. I remember it well.
Casa Chelo was recommended and you walk through the kitchen to the dining room – a great smile from the chef.The pig’s cheeks were sumptuous.
Lugo is an excellent base for a longer stay – Roman walls etc, but a host of other things to see. The walk was relatively flat now and after a couple of hours I reached this church and a nearby, somewhat ramshackle but welcoming cafe. Stripped off the poncho as the sun came out and enjoyed one of Hannah’s ” sugar rush” cakes with my Americano.
Lugo was now in the far distance and as there had been a lot of quiet road walking,it was a relief to get back on more traditional pathways.
84. 7..KM to Santiago from here.
Rome’s influence extended to San Remoa daRetorta , where at the Albergue we were to ring our accommodation ( 8 km away ) for a lift. We did; they came.
We were pleased with the basic, but clean room and will be dining later. 
And it has stopped raining, the socks and tops are drying on the radiator- a Pelegrino’s work is never done – I love these stopovers, you never know how it will pan out .
There was a heavy mist which lingered for a couple of hours. I spied this church in what looked like a picnic spot, neither of which seemed to have been used for some time. There was not the usual information board and I could find no reference in my guidance. It was a forlorn scene.
Some brightness around the next bend. Roses are popular in this hamlet.
I had read that there was an occasional, summertime – only coffee possibility in the next village which was famous for its 15 th century church – a national monument- and a regal Manor House that had been a Hotel, but which now was closed. The coffee spot was both unlikely and very welcoming – A Camino burger van!
After enjoying a super large Americano and a slice of Empanada, the proprietor gave me a pen decorated with the Camino and his van – super guy.
A little further on there was a sad scene.
The Primitivo has been much improved in its infrastructure with the help of The E U’s cultural arm.
Renovating the Way, developing remote hamlets by assisting with the development of hostals, for example. More wagon wheels,too. There were several small villages along this etape and helpful notice boards provide an insight about their history.
Not everything has been reclaimed and one wonders what fate befell this once imposing Manor.
The lilies were a showcase. After several rather dreary kilometres ( compared to the rest of the walk), Lugo was nearing and the Primitivo enters the city via an ancient bridge and barrio.
It took me the best part of an hour to find the accommodation, passing Santiago’s chapel en route – Despite being here on another Camino four years or so ago,I had forgotten how big a city it is.
Only a 100 kilometres to Santiago,now.
B& B Murallos Romano took some finding even with Google maps, but it was worth it as the host gave me a lovely, sympathetic welcome and urged me to enjoy tea and buns, English style.
After a shower and brief rest, it was time to head in to the old city to meet up with our three English amigos for a meal in the tapas area – we met up with other Pelegrinos who had been our daily comrades, by coincidence – when the Spanish pilgrims choose a restaurant you know it’s going to be good. Atmosphere enhanced by a concert celebrating Galician folk music and costume – just look at these wonderful children piping and drumming their hearts out in the Cathedral square.
This has been the longest stage of the Primitivo so far – the feet are standing up to it well, so far.
Bafflingly, the signage in the Asturias region is in the opposite direction to Galicia and most other regions that I’ve walked through; last sign in Asturias.
The local people don’t waste materials and even tiny stores are made from materials to hand like slate and stone.
The signage has been good on this Camino and the information boards,too.
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