We found out what was wrong with the lovely room we had in O Coto last night – the room above the 1 inch thick ceiling appeared to be a dormatory – for the Roman legion troops who arrived very late and stared leaving very early.
On the trail we saw a chap on a horse leading a loaded pack horse. His progress was no faster than ours, what with being stopped for pictures. The curious thing was the solar panel hanging off his saddle.
The first church across the old Roman bridge entering Furelos, Igrexa San Juan, is one we remember because of its unusual crucifixion statue. The church itself is a reconstruction.
Melide is a memorable town because of its octopus food connection. How a town 100 km from the nearest salt water become renown in Galicia, and indeed all over Spain, for its octopus resturants, is a mystery to me.
Let me recount our experience from the last trip. The premier resturant right on the corner sucked us in. At the entrance there is a huge cauldron of boiling water being tended by one of the ladies from the opening scene of Macbeth. She is throwing three foot long octopuses into the bath, and occasionally fishing one out with a hook. She wacks the tentacles into inch long pieces with a huge cleaver and places them on a wooden plate with some boiled potatoes. That plus a tankard of the local wine, which has not yet finished fermenting, is your treat. It is served with a small chunk of pine plank approximating a toothpick for a utensil. The rubbery cubes of fishy tasting tentacle would not be that bad, but the slimy skin and odd sucker are too much for this lad from Alberta. A single toothpick is not an adequate tool with which to skin an octopus. Note that some of the details may have been elaborated for purposes of illustration. It is an experience I would not want to have missed, nor an experience I would want to repeat.
As we walked through town at 10 AM, the same resturant was tended by an enthusiastic young fellow chopping up octopus, inviting us in. I explained that it was too early for my octopus fix for the day, and wished all of the numerous locals already eating good health. They will need it.
As we left Melide we visited the Igrexa Santa Maria de Melide which may not have been open when we were here last. The apse has some wonderful 14th century frescos (some say renaissance), as well as a crudely carved capital said to be of Daniel and two lions. Or is it a corbel?
The trail west of Melide passes through the first of the eucalyptus plantations, as well as the wild forest where the plantation escapees are overtaking the slower growing oak. It is a long but peaceful walk. In the middle is a stepping stone bridge, not the first, but the best.
We kept pace with an extremely rude group led by a guy carrying a Bulgarian flag. Me neither. I had to ask him.
As the afternoon wore on it got hotter, probably reaching 30°C, and in such heat Vic begins to wilt. She spent the afternoon zigzagging up the path in search of the merest bit of shade. She probably walked twice the distance I did.
The official distance for us today is just short of 22 km.
It is getting close to the end – only two more days to go. The distance numbers on the marker posts have mostly been souveniered over the years but there is only about 40 km left.
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