It felt good to be back on the road again, and to be leaving Porto. Steady climbing for a while but never too steep. Cobbles seemingly without end. Built up and heavily trafficked for the first fifteen or more kilometres.

Then some countryside, but I still felt separated from it, riding along country cobbled lanes between high walls.

A short day. There will be more like it coming up. I don't really want to arrive in Santiage before earlyish on the 4th, in time for my bus on the 5th. And it's only 214 km, with six and a bit days to do it in.

I'm in a six-bedroom dorm, in a small albergue, so I hope I don't sleep too noisily. There is a very pleasant garden to relax in.

A very good night's sleep. In bed at 9:00 pm, before either of my roomies. The Argentinian lady was up early, before light, and off to a good start. The young German man was slower than I was.

I had a small breakfast at the restaurant a few yards from the albergue and watch a few peregrinos walk past. Then it was my turn to make progress towards the north with legs that felt more tired than I expected. A grey, overcast day but no precipitation, no wind and little heat.

Trending downhill to start, down to an old Roman bridge over a river. Which inevitably necessitated considerable climbing on the other side.

Better scenery today, a more rural feeling to the surroundings. Cobbles again. Cobbles count as 'pavement' but is more energy sapping than some of the dirt.

The dirt, when it appeared, was a nice change.

I caught up with a unicyclist. From behind, I assumed a young man. When he stopped at the top of a hill and turned around, I saw a bushy white beard. Not a young man, just young in spirit. From Slovakia, doing Porto to Santiago. We played leapfrog for a while: he was faster on the uphill and I was on the flat and downhill.

I'm now within 200 km of Santiago. I need at least two stamps a day in my camino passport to get a certificate/credential upon completion in Santiago.

Most peregrinos end their day in Barcelos. This cyclist decided to go on a few more kilometres to a nice-sounding rest stop in Vila Boa. Possibly a mistake. Although cheap, and hosted by very sweet people, it is lacking in atmosphere. White tiles, white walls. A garden paved with indoor/outdoor green imitation lawn. A bunk bed in a tiny room. An insubstantial meal. Maybe I'm getting too picky?