Day I: Porto -> Vila do Conde; 21.6mi.

Total: 21.6mi.

🛏:

I woke up this morning in a dimly lit hostel room, which I shared with three others in Porto. I met one of the three as I was drifting off to sleep and I never met the other two as I was asleep and awake earlier than either of them.

This hostel was fantastic and worked with me despite my not showing up the first night of my reservation. It was a busy weekend in Porto, with a marathon ensuing, so the fact that they allowed me to keep my booking for my second night was huge.

My friends walked to my hostel and picked me up in the middle of the chaos. The first several miles of our trek were spent battling runners warming up in the opposite direction we were walking in, but we finally made it to the coast and that’s where we stayed for the better part of the 21.6mi we walked today.

I grew up sitting on the beach on family vacations, growing restless and uncomfortably hot, but hesitant to get into the water because sharks and I hated the way the salt water caked onto my skin and made it feel sticky.

The thing is, I didn’t really like mountains growing up, either. I was drug along on a few too many drives up Trail Ridge Road with my family and a few too many hikes with the over-eager cousins who lived with us one elementary summer and I resolved at a young age that hiking wasn’t my cup of tea either.

I preferred my backyard and my bedroom, gymnastics lessons and my friends homes to mountains or the beach.

Obviously, the mountains grew on me and I would be lying if I said the ocean hasn’t, too. I still don’t love salt water or humidity and sharks scare me more than I know they should, but thanks to my life in Washington, a few recent trips to California and 21.mi of walking along the coast today, the ocean and the sound of those waves crashing has found a special home in my heart, too. Today was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced: walking along boardwalks for miles with a twenty-five-ish pound pack and new friends from new places surrounding me.

It was a reminder of all of the familiar reasons I fell in love with my last camino, with the addition of new scenery and sounds.

I spent the day alongside and in conversation with people from Germany, Poland, Australia and Italy to name a few.

When we got into Vila do Conde, I elected to stay at an albergue, which is more of a hostel like setting compared to the private room my friends rented. The albergues are cheaper and present more opportunity for continued community than the private rooms do, but they also tend to have less glamorous bathrooms and the risk of loud snorers, so it’s kind of a gamble.

I met up with my friends for a wonderful dinner after getting settled in – many places have “pilgrims meals,” which include unlimited wine, unlimited bread, a first course, a second course and dessert – and it is all typically around $10 USD. It was full of laughter and intentional conversations because it’s impossible not to have those two things with these two humans. I’m so thankful they included me in their plans and invited me along.

Day one and I forgot how many places my body could ache after a day walking this far with a heavy pack (and my pack is admittedly heavier than it needs to be), how difficult it can be to change clothes without letting anything touch the icky bathroom floor and how hard it can be to fall asleep despite exhaustion when your bunk mates snores shake the whole room .. but I also forgot the extent this experience fills my heart and I’m really, really happy to be here.

“We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not we are homesick most for the places we have never known.” — Carson McCullers