Rosie's knee was still painful and on any downhill section she developed a sideways crablike walk which seemed to help.
a lot of this walk is on the road and any detour was welcomed for the change of surface.the roads were very quite with hardly any traffic, partly due to the fact it was Sunday morning and also we later found out most of the local population had been up most of the night partying at a
It is easy to presume that in quite rural area's that nothing ever happens, but the opposite is quite often the truth as people will turn out enmasse for the smallest event.
the day continued to be dark dismal and wet punctuated by many signs of the old mixing well with the new and a few quite surreal roadside sculptures.
our Bar of the day today was the Cafe bar o Cruceiro at
Calle de Poulo the last bar before Sigueiro and one of a trio on route where some English is spoken,
the barman had spent 23 years in Primrose Hill London running his own business before returning home.
yet more hot sausages were placed in front of us with our drinks and the conversation flowed,the bar had a English look to it with photographs of regulars and various football teams going back over the years,one old black and white team pic of 40 years ago was pointed out to us as not only including one of the customers at the time but the barman himself,
prior to coming to Galicia we had been told they could be cold dour and being the birth place of Franco, quite right wing in their views, I found the opposite to be true in my experience, although this was based on a few visited bars with decent people in them,bars that had an ambiance that many English pubs would envy.
having tasted a little too much of the ambiance we stepped
the last 4k is a pleasant if seemingly never ending walk through the woods.
Rosie knee was giving her increasingly more pain and the decision was made to catch the bus to Santiago from Sigueiro
plus our delayed start to the walk meant because we had a plane to catch on Monday time but not the walk had beaten us.
Sigueiro didn't seem that bad a place as we walked over the Bridge to the Church of st Andrew to get our credencial stamped and pass some time before the bus,this church was the only one I entered on the whole journey and was a good choice. A because the place didn't fall on my head and B the young priest about the same age of my own son stamping our passports amid the giggling girls with mobiles in what I presume was the pre-mass bible group,a rural scene not that dissimilar to my own Yorkshire Methodist upbringing minus the mobiles of course.
The bus never did turn up (we waited 1 hour) rosie was tired and tetchy and I just wanted a conclusion to the day,so a taxi it was,we asked the price and couldn't figure out if he said 15 or 50.past caring we got in the car and enjoyed the 13k into Santiago.