Galicia: Mondariz to Vilaboa – 33.2km

There were several occasions today when it seemed we were never going to reach Vilaboa on the Galician coast. Fortunately, Harri’s map-reading skills came to the fore and, despite zero maintenance of the GR58, we eventually limped into town in glorious evening sunshine.

Goodness, what a gruelling cross-country trek we undertook. We always knew we were facing a long day with plenty of climbing, but we didn’t anticipate quite so many issues as we attempted to follow what are supposed to be waymarked routes. Ultimately, we covered 33.2 kilometres with 731 metres of ascent.

But back to the beginning. We made the mistake of not setting the alarm and slept late in what was undoubtedly the most comfortable bed of our entire trip. It was already 8am Spanish time when we woke, and as we wouldn’t be crossing the border today, there would be no opportunity to ‘claw back’ an hour. Harri had altered our original planned route to make it slightly shorter with a little less climbing, although we were still facing over 30km.

The weather was improving and it was actually sunny when we set off at 9.45am, although there remained a small chance of showers. The landscape around Mondariz was extremely hilly and straight off we were heading down a very steep hill to join another riverside walk along the Rio Tea.

For this trip, Harri had booked all our accommodation in advance. We often leave things more to chance – or just book a day or two ahead – but we were already into June and the hiking/pilgrimage season was well underway. Some of our overnight stops were in places without many accommodation options – we couldn’t risk being bedless.

Water, water everywhere

At this point, the Rio Tea riverbank was really pretty and soon we were crossing a beautiful rock slab bridge to join another river. There is a lot of water in Galicia: it rains a lot and that rain has to go somewhere. The Galician writer and geographer Otero Pedrayo once described this region of Spain as ‘the land of a thousand rivers’. He was exaggerating, of course, but only slightly. According to Wikipedia, there are about 60 main rivers here with hundreds of smaller tributaries and streams. Let’s hope all those we encounter have bridges because I hate getting wet feet!

We left the second river to head up a super-steep quiet road. It’s at times like this that I can see the attraction of having your rucksack transported from place to place. It’s fine on the flat, but you really feel the drag when you’re climbing.

The day’s early promise had failed to materialise and dark clouds were gathering overhead. We joined tarmac roads and walked through some gorgeous, forested areas, mostly planted with oak and eucalyptus. As I puffed and panted alongside him, Harri seized the opportunity to tell me it could have been much worse: the route he’d originally plotted followed contours much higher up the mountainside.

After an hour and a half, we’d only covered 6.6 km but had already climbed 248 metres. The plan was to follow the GR58 for a while, leave it at some point to join a PR route and then rejoin it later this afternoon to walk to the coast and Vilaboa. Sounds great in theory, yes?

Retracking again and again

Everything was going well until we reached a Gothic-style church with a wonderfully atmospheric graveyard full of old family crypts. Being Buffy fans, we couldn’t resist a wander around and it didn’t disappoint. Leaving the graveyard, our onward route should have seen us following a footpath to the valley track below, but as we headed down the slightly overgrown footpath we started experiencing some concerns. We forged ahead, pushing aside the ferns and brambles that were now towering above us. Down through the trees, we could clearly see the wide grassy track we were aiming to reach – the question was how? I moved tentatively, stopping frequently to free myself from head-high brambles. The slope downhill was getting steeper and steeper, and our onward route was obliterated by vegetation.

Eventually, even Harri had to admit defeat. Back at the church, we tried another path down to the valley, but once again we walked a fair distance only to be forced back by a blocked path. Today was bringing back memories of hiking in Wales, where footpaths are rarely well-maintained, even the promoted ones. When we found ourselves walking past the same detached stone house, complete with palm trees, for the third time, our despair was complete.

It was nearly 1pm, we’d been hiking for over three hours and had climbed over 400 metres but covered only 11.7 km – barely a third of the day’s total distance. At this rate, we were never going to reach Vilaboa. Harri decided there was no option but to abandon our planned route and he consulted Google maps for some options. Minutes later, he had a plan. Instead of heading north at this point, we would instead follow various roads heading west; this would speed up our passage to the coast considerably.

By now, I was so fed up I’d have considered walking along the motorway hard shoulder if it meant making progress. Thankfully, the ‘main road’ we followed for a couple of kilometres had barely any traffic on it (except for one lunatic boy racer). Soon, we joined a series of quieter roads which boasted great distant views. Eventually, we entered a forested area and headed downhill again. I was a bit alarmed when we passed a local woman carrying an axe, but I guess that’s what you do when you live this close to a forest, i.e. chop your own logs.

We reached a small hamlet and spied a bench next to a font. It was time to stop for lunch and a much-needed rest. We made our way down some overgrown stone steps, inadvertently terrifying a sleeping cat which we hadn’t noticed. The day was heating up nicely, just when our energy levels were dipping.

Getting ourselves moving again was hard work. Still winging it at this point, we headed downhill on a wide tarmac track, slowing down to pass a tall horse which was untethered and grazing in vegetation on the one side. We were intrigued by an enormous green water pipe which disappeared under the track, then re-emerged on the other side. Apparently, a 40-kilometre trail – the Senda del Agua – runs alongside the water channel from the Eiras reservoir in Fornelos de Montes to Vigo. One for another holiday, perhaps?

Deserted Galicia

As we walked, Harri was continually checking the online mapping. With our hotel in Vilaboa, it was crucial we returned to our original route at some point. A concrete path with a steep gradient looked promising, but the onward route proved to be impassable, leaving us with no option but to turn around and trudge uphill again.

We’re discovering that Galician villages are an altogether different animal to Portuguese villages – no signs of life, no local bars and no locals out walking to keep the historic footpaths clear. We’ve barely seen a soul today. Our impression of southern Galicia is that it’s an empty landscape with stunning views dotted with beautiful stone properties.

Back on route at last, we were dismayed to learn our hotel was still 10.9 km away. Harri reflected that perhaps we shouldn’t have attempted to combine our trip to Peneda-Gerês National Park and the Galicia coastline into one long-distance hike – or should have travelled between the two regions on public transport (although we’re not sure this would have been possible).

At 26 km, our accumulated ascent hit 543 metres – pretty challenging when it’s warm and you’ve got a sizeable rucksack strapped to your back.

On the far side of a bouncy, modern bridge straddling the Rio Verdugo, we joined a wide, stony footpath which looked promising at first. We were back on the GR58 by now (no alternative) which meant it didn’t come as a huge surprise when the footpath rapidly deteriorated into a mass of brambles, ferns and other scrubby vegetation. My legs were so tired (and torn), I tripped over some runners and collapsed in a heap on the path. I wasn’t hurt but I stayed on the ground for several minutes, fed up and demoralised, while Harri again checked the mapping to determine our next move. Frustratingly, we’d run out of options.

We eventually emerged from the river path onto a quiet lane high above the river and passed through a picturesque village where several houses had drives resembling ski slopes. I’d have happily stuck with this narrow, undulating road despite its horrendous gradients – anything to escape the brambles – but Harri warned doing so would involve a long detour away from the river. The most direct route was along another historic lane lined with drystone walls.

He walked ahead, bashing the brambles aside as best he could, while I resigned myself to more scratched arms and legs. We emerged at the other end rejoined a tarmac lane and got our first tantalising glimpse of a distant road bridge through the trees. We were starting to see properties dotted around in the distance – might we finally be approaching the Galician coast?

The weirdest thing is that one minute we were walking in the wilderness and the next there were people everywhere, many of them wishing us ‘bom caminho’. It would appear those deserted villages are within a few minutes’ drive of civilisation.

With no desire to eat out tonight, we did a necessary detour across the single-lane Ponte Medieval de Pontesampaio to visit a supermarket. On the bridge, we were rewarded with the most stunning views across the Rio Verdugo and, for the first time in hours, our spirits soared. It was moments like this, the never knowing what might lie beyond the next bend, that made long-distance hiking so worthwhile (and addictive).

Our accommodation

 

We paid just 50 euros for a double room with a private bathroom and a waterfront (and pool) view at Las Ilas, Vilaboa.

From the outside, the hotel wasn’t particularly appealing (it’s on a busy main road), however the receptionist was friendly and spoke good English. Our perception changed once we were in our room and gazed out at the beautiful view. Yes, our room was rather old-fashioned, e.g. the shower was over the bath and none of the cupboard doors fitted well, but honestly with a terrace view like ours it really didn’t bother us.

Our route

This stage is mapped at 31.2 km with 631 metres of ascent.

Tracking with Outdoor Active, I recorded 33.2 km with 731 metres of ascent.

Download the GPX file of the route we actually walked here.