Walking from Azambuja to Santarém: The Early Bird’s Camino Adventure
There’s something about waking up at 4:30 a.m. that feels like you’re about to embark on a covert mission. I mean, who else is awake at that hour, other than a few night owls and Darkwing Duck? For anyone unfamiliar, Darkwing was this 90s cartoon superhero who worked in the shadows, much like I was that morning—minus the crime-fighting, but with a backpack heavy enough to suggest I was prepared for it.
By 5:00 a.m., I was on the move, cutting through the pre-dawn darkness with my headlamp. The cool air was refreshing, and the peaceful quiet was broken only by the sound of my heavy boots hitting the pavement. I half-expected a villainous monologue to echo from somewhere nearby, but alas, I was on my own… no crime-fighting adventures on the camino for me, yet..?
The Breakfast of Camino Champions
As the sun started to tease the horizon, the trail came alive with the colors of early morning, and I figured it was time for some breakfast. Two plums were my prize—sweet, juicy, and straight from the grocery bag I had packed the day before. Trust me, nothing tastes quite as good as fruit when you’re a few kilometers into a walk with a backpack that's already starting to make your feet plotting revenge in protest.
This part of the Camino is flat, and made out of asphalt and evil cobblestones. Both of which take a heavy toll on the souls of your feet, doubly so when you have packed enough stuff to act as a portable supply depot for a small army… but onwards I went, breakfast motivating me to go on…
First Pit Stop: Cruella de Café
The first town I came across was still sleepy, but a café was open. I wasn’t picky—honestly, I stopped because it had two things I desperately needed: coffee and a functioning toilet. After taking care of business, I ordered a sandwich that was...well, edible. Let’s just say that if Cruella DeVille ever decided to retire from fur fashion and get into hospitality, she’d probably offer more charm and service than the lady behind the counter.
The sandwich wasn’t memorable, but it did its job, which was to keep me going for a little while longer. I washed it down with some coffee, and was back on the trail before the café lady could even perfect her scowl.
Second Wind: The Friendly Café Redemption
A few kilometers later, I hit the next town, and it felt like an oasis. The café here was everything the first one wasn’t: friendly, cozy, and full of smiles. This place felt like a second wind in café form. I grabbed a second coffee (because why not?), a delicious pastry, and an ice-cream that, in that moment, tasted better than anything Michelin-starred restaurants could have served.
It’s funny how, on the Camino, the little things like a friendly smile and a good cup of coffee become the highlights of your day. You’re not in a rush, and the simple pleasures of food, drink, and enjoying being able to take a small break.
Santarém on the Horizon: A Day of Connections
The final stretch toward Santarém took an interesting turn when I ran into a familiar face: the German pilgrim I’d met a few days earlier. Back then, he was in decent spirits, but now he had catastrophic blisters and looked like he would welcome some distracting conversation, which is my specialty. His goal was just to make it to Santarém so he could catch the train to Porto, rest up, and hopefully continue his Camino from there. We fell into step together, swapping army stories—he’d just gotten out of the service—and it was a nice way to distract ourselves from the growing heat and the weight of our respective packs. His being potentially heavier than mine…
Soon, we crossed paths with a couple of fellow pilgrims, James and Marie, Canadians who brought a little irony to the journey, considering we were walking the Way of St. James. I joined them in their little break under the shade, the German walked ahead-”If I stop I don't think I can start again”- He said, and we all understood. I stayed with the Canadians. They had multiple Caminos under their belt, including the Frances, and as we walked, the conversation flowed from one topic to another—hiking experiences, the challenges of the trail, and a few laughs about the quirks of pilgrim life.
Before I knew it, I had completely skipped my planned break, caught up in the company and conversation, and we also cought up with the German. And another pilgrim, like the Lord of the rings, the fellowship was growing.
By the time we reached the bottom of the final hill, I was running on fumes and my water reserves had held, but just barely. I waved goodbye to the the others and finally took a much-needed break. I aired out my shoes, devoured what remained of my emergency snack stash (melted chocolate still counts as chocolate, right?), and took a gulp of water—only to discover my CamelBak had given me its last drops. A little disheartened, but grateful for the cloud cover that had come to rescue me from the relentless sun, I pulled on fresh socks, laced up my shoes, and got back on the road.
Not even 100 meters later, I spotted the German and the Canadians hanging out by a massive water fountain. It felt like a little Camino miracle. After a long drink and some laughs, we walked the last stretch into Santarém together, checking into the same hotel.
Now, I’m sitting in a wonderfully air-conditioned room, showered, fed, and with my laundry already done. As is a needed trip the pharmacy for bug repellent and something to soothe the inevitable bites. It’s fertilizer season around these parts, and the next few days will take us through farm country, so I’ll need to be prepared.
But now, it’s time to relax, recharge, and join the fellowship for a few evening beers… prost!