I’m getting sick and tired of the arrows, or lack thereof, in the mornings. I understand that when we’re walking in the dark, we’re taking some chances of missing arrows but whoever set up this trail is either a sadist or an idiot because today, it’s all on them.  From the residencial, we walked north, following a few arrows as expected.  This is also what the guidebook said, “head due north for 1.1km”.  Unfortunately, there is a new route and at the middle of town, arrows clearly tell you to turn right down a road.  We followed these arrows for .5km until they disappeared. We knew we needed to turn left at some point but for the next .5km after that, there was only one place (a trail between stone fences) possible to turn left and there were no arrows leading to it or further down that trail. We gave up after a while and headed back to the original route. An extra 2km and 30 minutes wasted. The route north of town was only marked after guessing correctly on two forks but we stayed to the larger road and aimed north. The trail to Zambujal was clearly marked with the red/white blazes, the backwards blue Fatima arrows, a sign saying “Zambujal this way” but no yellow arrows at all even though it is the trail described in the Brierley guide.  It worked perfectly anyway and got us to the tiny but lovely old Caminho town where the arrows started again and were fairly easy to follow all the way to Coimbra.

In Zambujal, on Sunday, nothing is open but we met an old woman who insisted on directing us to an off trail café that would be open. She happily explained in very fast Portuguese the directions and when we didn’t give the right signal that we understood, she repeated herself, word for every long word, but much louder this time.  Again she realized that we didn’t understand so, once more, she told us the whole route but this time she was practically screaming. We finally caught on –  I don’t mean we understood what she was saying but we sure vigorously pretended we did this time. We were afraid she would wake the whole village if she had to say it again. She could be part American.

The Caminho then went through Fonte Coberta and Poço, both historic little pilgrim hamlets. We didn’t see a soul in either, except for the singing Italians but they are cool places. We then made it through some hills into Conibriga, and ancient Gaelic settlement that the Romans took over 2100 years ago. There is a museum there, supposedly with incredibly well preserved artifacts but we only availed ourselves of the café. We were afraid this would be the only place open on a Sunday but we should not have worried. An open “real “café was just a few hundred meters further on so we stopped for a quick second juice there too just to thank them for being open. We also stopped, for lunch, in Café Centro before Cernache.  The ham sandwich may have been the best yet but in Cernache itself, we could have had our pick of a half dozen other cafés and there was even an open supermercado. Either they are less Catholic up here or they are happy to support pilgrims on a Sunday.

After Cernache, it rained most of the way to Palheira which you would expect because that was the longest part of today’s walk which was not on asphalt. The trail was muddy and slippery in the little rivers that the heavy rain brought us.  After that, it was just hills and burning sun until it started to drizzle and we raced the clouds into Coimbra.

We are staying in the “old world charm”, one star Hotel Lorbelo, right on the Largo de Portagem, just across the bridge into the old town. The owner hates us and put is in a room on the fourth floor. Elevators were not invented when this place opened. At least we’ll have a great view out the window, I said. Wrong. The room is the only one in the hotel with only a skylight instead of a window.  I could climb down four flights of stairs to complain but the owner knows I can’t. It’s 40€ for the double with wi-fi but not an elevator.

At dinner across the square, we ran into Canadian woman and French Señor Sanchez. They have decided to stop in Porto. She’s sick of the long mileage, lack of facilities, bad route markings and heat. I have to admit, this Caminho is much tougher than the French route. Be prepared. This is not the French route where you walk until you are tired then stop for the night. Here you walk long past being tired or you sleep on the trail or hitchhike. Almost every stage has a 10-20km section where the only chance for food or water may require you to knock on the door of a stranger and beg. Yesterday was a rare day when we walked a bit with Tom and Ursula and we were passed by the Italians. Most days, the trail is lonely. How single walkers do it, I don’t know. After Porto it is supposed to be easier. I hope that is true because this Caminho can really get to you.

Random thought for the day: September in Portugal means either bright blazing sun or rain. Clouds are things on the horizon, never overhead unless it’s raining.

We decided to stay in Coimbra for another day, mostly to shake off the last three long stages but also to see some of this old place.  Peace y’all.