Grumpy (Camino) Cat
Sabaris to Vigo
My multi-year attempt to finish journaling my Camino experience from summer 2023 continues! It’s laughable, but thanks for your patience, friends/subscribers. My last Substack entry was July 9, 2025, and here I am again, July 9, 2026. Totally unplanned coincidence, but my brain pushed me this morning to dig out my travel journal so I could finish this little project :)
You surely need a refresher, so feel free go back and look at my previous posts:
Day 2: Perafita to Vila do Conde
Day 3: Half Lovely, Half Boring
Day 5: The French Friends I Didn’t Know I Needed
Days 7-9: A Birthday of Rest
Day 10: A Return, and Moving Forward
Day 11 of My Camino (Portuguese Coastal Route)
I awoke on July 27, 2023 in the Hotel Vasco da Gama in Sabaris. After a breakfast of a ham and cheese sandwich, a piece of pound cake, and a kiwi, I set out. The plan was to walk 11 miles to Vigo, and both of my feet were still bandaged and healing from my infected blister saga. I dreaded the inevitable tightness I would feel in my hiking shoes.
I lasted 4.5 miles on paved, quiet roads until I could feel my outer toes start to throb. I had to decide - would I head into the bosque (forest) to continue the technical Camino path, or would I try to create my own route, walking north through beaches instead? I saw a taxi stand in front of me, and took it as a sign to hitch a ride to a beach and examine/air out my feet before continuing. The driver took me to Playa del Vao, where I found a bench overlooking the water, took off my shoes, elevated my legs on top of my backpack, and massaged my feet in the cool air. I should have babied my feet like this every day, I realized!
I started walking again at 10:40 am, but by 11:15 am I was in pain again, my pinky-toes squealing with every step. (I will reiterate this tip via hindsight: buy walking shoes at least half, if not a full, size larger for your Camino, because your feet will swell). Knowing that it would take me at least another two hours to reach central Vigo, I made the call to give up walking for the day. To my immediate right was a bus shelter, with a bus pulling up as if it were sent by the universe, just for me. For 1.5 euros, I rode it all the way to Vigo. Instead of feeling ashamed I couldn’t walk any longer, I felt really grateful for this alternative. I was also reassured by the sight of a Russian family already on the bus, who were holding their Camino backpacks and taking a rest themselves.
I had arrived too early to check into my hotel, so I spent a couple of hours at a cute café called Coffee Land where I read El Mundo newspaper. I then made the mistake of eating at a “healthy” restaurant named Migas and had the worst “chili con carne” tacos of my life. Imagine Taco Bell soft tacos, without the little spice they already have, and then stuffed with carrots, cabbage, and cilantro (I was going to include a picture of them here but they looked truly disgusting).
My room at B&B Hotel Vigo was nice but a bit too large and sterile for my liking. I headed out to the mall to try to find an interesting movie or meal, but didn’t have any luck. (Funnily enough, a friend of mine had just passed through Vigo with his family the day before - I would have gladly piggybacked on their dinner spot research!)
Back in my hotel room and planning the next day, I knew there was a Senda del Agua that was supposed to be pretty and flat, but it was going to take me 4 miles to reach it, and I wasn’t sure if my still-tender feet could handle it. Self-doubt was taking over, and so was my grumpy cat side. I wasn’t sure from where in my body or spirit I would draw a new well of energy. Eventually, I took a sleeping pill to bring my internal grumbling to an end.
****
The sleeping pill was so strong - or I was making up for past nights’ sleep deprivation - that I didn’t wake up until 8:30 am. Fatal mistake in the Spanish summer heat! I decided against pursuing the Senda del Agua and caught another bus to Redondela, my next planned stop.
For some unknown reason, as soon I stepped off the bus and started walking into the town, I felt a strong urge to leave. Something felt off, and I felt intensely impatient. I tried to regulate my nervous system by accomplishing tiny tasks: buying rubbing alcohol at a farmacia, a bacalau empanada at a bakery. But it didn’t calm me. I felt restless, bothered, and oppressed by the humidity. It was then that two people with some mental disturbances approached me, and I just couldn’t deal. Maybe I’ll just skip ahead to Pontevedra and forego the hostel bed I reserved here, I thought to myself, and waited for the 12:52 bus. Nothing came. I tried to sit in a park to collect my thoughts, but a creepy man approached me almost immediately and I had to get going again. I walked to the train station to find a train out. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was waiting at the wrong train station. What little town like this has two separate train stations?! I would later scream internally.
Totally confused by my apparent lack of transportation options, I decided to go to the hostel I had reserved for that night (Albergue Avoa Regina), if only for a temporary refuge until I figured out my next move. I checked in, settled on my top bunk, and examined my blisters once more before trying to close my eyes. As more peregrinos began checking in and filling up the room, my grumpy cat self couldn’t tolerate the clamor of multiple loud conversations. I had to leave. To be clear: there was nothing wrong with Avoa Regina itself - the quarters were really nice, and the staff was friendly! The problem was me - once I get into an anti-social headspace, it’s really hard to get myself out of it.
According to Google Maps, there was a 3:31 pm bus leaving for Pontevedra that stopped outside of a gas station down the road. I showed up early and dutifully waited. Nothing came at 3:31. At 3:45, a bus passed by, but the driver looked quizzically at me waving on the side of the road and sped on by. I felt gaslit at this gas station. Where is this f’ing bus, and how do I get out of this town?? (Again, the issue was me - my lack of alignment with Redondela felt strong and inexplicable, but I’m sure many people love it!) I walked, defeated, back to Avoa Regina to get on wifi and check my phone again. There was a 6:35 train out, supposedly, at the Redondela-Picota station (the station I had not gone to earlier in the day). This felt like my final try, and I was skeptical of whether anything would show.
I couldn’t believe my eyes - a train arrived!!
If I were to do this Camino route again, I would want to go back and walk the route from Vigo to Pontevedra myself, because a friend told me there was gorgeous, not-to-be-missed scenery along the way. From my train seat, I could see the waning light of dusk over the water, and it was indeed stunning.
I checked into DPaso hostel in Pontevedra (which still had bunk beds, but styled as modern pods with thick curtains that gave us more privacy). Since I had arrived after 7 pm, the room was hushed for quiet hours. Listening to whispers, zippers, and rustling of book pages from the other bunks, I transformed from a grumpy cat into a calmer mouse, and nestled into my newfound nook.
To be continued….