Going Out The Door

It’s hard to believe we just left Baiona. The rest day was much needed, and our calves thanked us for the break. With a good dinner in our bellies, we spent our last night there sitting on our balcony overlooking the beach and harbor. We can’t emphasize enough the cumulative effect of eight days of walking—much of the rest day was spent actually resting.

We left in the morning with a 15.6 mile (plus getting to the hotel) walk in front of us. After reading many threads, blogs and watching videos, we decided ahead of time that we would cut it a little short and get a cab for the last few miles in order to avoid the industrial area of Vigo.

The road to Vigo was a mix of ocean promenades and boardwalks followed by some very long stretches of highway walking where the bicycles went nearly as fast as the cars. At a point, we veered off the road to head back towards the water and a lively string of beaches where the colors of the hundreds of umbrellas were enough to distract us from the near—and sometimes full—nudity of many of the sun bathers.

We stopped at a cafe for tapas and a cerveza and ate the best pulpo we’ve had yet.

It was about here, at the 9 mile marker we started checking into a ride to the hotel. As it was a Sunday, this proved a little harder than expected, and we tried to get a cab or Uber, but to no avail.

So we kept walking as the day got warmer, and kept walking past pools and fountains where young folks were frolicking in cool water, and kept walking past dysfunctional beach showers that could have cooled us off a bit but didn’t, when suddenly, lo and behold, after 12 long miles, a taxi was dropping off a passenger and we dove into the backseat as his next fare.

It was a good – and lucky – move, as most of the remaining distance to our hotel was industrial before gradually turning into steep city streets. Hills were one thing we didn’t need more of.

We checked in to our hotel, rested, showered (our typical routine these days), then went to a tiny bar around the corner, where a group of middle-aged guys were shooting a movie with a Go-Pro camera. No idea what it was about, but included a lot of stereotypes in it—a black-clad musician and a guy with a pork pie hat in a crummy car. It was fun to watch at the end of a long walk.

We ended up back at the hotel for dinner, because we have discovered that even in a mid-sized city like Vigo, Sunday dining can be a challenge.