Ferrol to Santiago de Compostela

May 1 to May 6, 2024

I’m addicted to walking to Santiago de Compostela. As such, I’ve vowed to make the walk once a year as long as I’m physically able. I’m generally healthy and recently read an article about a 95-year-old woman that walks it once every two years, so I’m planning for the long haul.

Life events and obligations got in the way of my addiction in 2024, so I could only commit 2 weeks to a trek to Santiago (compared to the normal 30 to 40 days). I chose the short Camino Inglés, followed by a journey beyond Santiago to Muxía and Finisterre on the northwestern coastline. This would take about 2 weeks and get me back to Santiago in time for family vacation.

Another reason for the Inglés, my hometown has partnered with the Camino de Santiago to create a “sister” walk to the Camino Inglés. I walked the path at home, then got credit for 30 kilometers on this pilgrimage. Bonus points!!

Day 1 – Getting There

Distance walking is a challenge but not near as challenging as the high-velocity travel it requires to transport me from San Antonio (SAT) to Chicago (ORD) to Barcelona (BCN) to Santiago (SCQ), and ultimately, Ferrol, on the northern coast of Spain. The 2+ hours to Chicago was a breeze, bolstered by the excitement of a journey. Reality set in when I boarded the crowded American Airlines jet – 8+ hours of cramped conditions, pasty food substitutes (dusted with curry to disguise the fact that it is not actually food), and disjointed sleep in 30-minute intervals. I try to be thankful for the wonder of air travel, and I love the end result, but the process is torturous for me. I cope with as much wine as they’ll give me and in-flight movies.

The agony ended when we safely landed at BCN right on schedule…exhausted but still amazed at all the things that have to come together for me to make it across the ocean in a few hours. Off the plane and through Customs, my primary objective was to locate a suitable coffee shop for my first café americano and napolitana de chocolate of the year. Settled at a table with breakfast in front of me, I texted my brother. He was at BCN, too, arriving an hour and a half before me. Our reunion made the long layover and flight to Santiago de Compostela worth every minute.

In Santiago, my final task was a short bus ride to Ferrol. The trip went by quickly as I looked out the window scouting out some of the ways I would cross by foot in the coming days and remembering how much I enjoy Galicia. The bus arrived at the Ferrol Intermodal Station at 10:45 pm. Now just a 15-minute walk to my hostel and rest. I calculated that I had been on the move for 21.5 hours.

Hotels and hostels in Spain are different (cheaper, more efficient, and more hospitable) than most of the lodging places in the US. For example, my home for the night in Ferrol was on the fourth floor of a 4-story building, there was a restaurant on the 1st floor. The check-in instructions for late arrivals was to speak to the host at the restaurant who would then get you into your room. I arrived shortly after 11:00 pm on foot and exhausted, thinking only of sleep. I followed the instructions, and the host gave me directions to Room 24 and the entry code. I slogged up 4 flights of stairs, Room 24 was right at the landing. I entered the code, it didn’t work. I tried again, no luck. The inner dialogue that followed:

“S***! I’m gonna have to walk back down the stairs, correct the code situation, and walk back up.”

In a desperate attempt to avoid the descent/ascent, I tried the code one last time. The electronics beeped and the inner mechanism whirred, and the door opened. Yessss!

The first thing I saw upon entering was a man in the only bed in the room playing on his phone. I exclaimed:

“Perdóname, perdón, perdón.”

The man in the bed, with the most deadpan expression possible, said:

“¡Lo siento, pero sólo hay una cama!”

(I’m sorry, but there’s only one bed!)

Both of us broke out laughing as I backed out of the room and closed the door. This was funny to me because the reverse of this situation happened to me a few months earlier at a La Quinta Inn in Stephenville, Texas. No harm, no foul.

My next inner thought:

“S***! I’m gonna have to walk back down the stairs, correct the code situation, and walk back up.”

I slogged back down to the restaurant, explained the situation (while still laughing) to the host (who was mortified), we learned that I was actually Room 26, and then I slogged back up the stairs to Room 26, in which I was the only guest.

Then I slept.