The Camino Inglés: Day 4

Note: 06.30: I've woken up to the news that Britain - well, England really - has voted in favour of the Brexit. Unusually, a forecast of mine has proven wrong. It's what I favoured but didn't expect. And now I'm in shock. This post might well reflect that. The times have suddenly got even more interesting . . . .

Today's Post:

They say that you don't get your walking legs until 3 days into a camino and this certainly seemed true for me yesterday. Though this might well have had a lot to do with the very reduced number of inclines and declines.

If you want to do a lovely 25km walk in northern Galicia one day, then this is the one for you.

Reasonably flat, very largely rural and off-road, and through some delightfully bosky and floral zones. All in all, a great day's walking. Made even better by the company.

Rain had been promised but, although it tried hard, it never arrived. However, it was cloudier and a lot cooler than on previous days. But this didn't stop me sweating like a pig within an hour of setting off in the mists outside our hostel in, of all places, Bruma.

Ere long, we chanced upon a set of whimsical artworks in the middle of nowhere, suggesting a local  artist with a nice sense of humour. Some examples:

At 1pm we partook of lunch, about half-way to Sigúeiro, where I was presented with possibly the largest bacon and onion sandwich I've ever seen. For €3.70 only.

Reader Maria kindly pointed out yesterday that rural burial niches tend to be owned, rather than rented, and here is some evidence of this:

Though not all the niches in this cemetery displayed this legend, a young man in the church confirmed that most of them were owned by families and not rented by the church.

Said church - in A Calle - is dedicated to St Pelagius /Pelayo, who's said to have been executed by the Moslem Caliph at the tender age of 14, though the young man thought it was 24. Wiki says 13. Anyway, here's his statue in the church.

And here's his image from the facade of the church. With what appears to be an axe through his neck:

On a happier note, the litle church was resplendent with (rather garish?) altars, both main and side versions:

Emerging later from some woods, we found ourselves directed by this charming arrow, manufactured from scraped gravel and the heads of dandelions. A nice gesture:

And then an example of Galician feismo - or ugliness. Possibly destined to stay like this for eternity:

Finally . . . At the opposite end of the beauty spectrum, here's 3 young Spaniards with whom we walked the final hour or two:

Doubtless we'll meet up again in the huge square in front of the cathedral in Santiago. When I will surely still be in shock at yesterday's cataclysmic event. And a lot poorer in pension terms.