Chasing Dreams

Day 11 – Agueda to Albergaria-a-Nova

24km

The night before, we were warned the heat would arrive by 10 a.m.
10 a.m.!

So we woke early and stepped out into cool air and morning fog. Two local roosters battled over who could be heard the loudest while birdsong carried through the stillness around them.

Everyone at the albergue was moving with the same purpose: beat the heat.

And so we were off—foot to pavement.

Though my feet remain sensitive to the heat, my body feels strong now. Hills feel easier. My pace feels steady. There’s comfort in noticing what has changed over these past days.

About 11 km in, we stopped at a café for coffee and pastries.

Before leaving for Portugal, my daughter asked me how much weight I thought I’d lose walking the Camino. I told her I had no idea—I hadn’t really thought about it.

Now I know the answer.

None.

Thank you to every bakery along the way for sustaining me. I’ve lost count, and every pastry has been just as delicious as the one before.

Not long after, we met up again with two pilgrims from Italy we had crossed paths with over the previous two nights. She is 27. He is 72. They met on the Camino. This is her second Camino and his eighth. She has stepped away from work to explore the world, and after a brief return home to Italy, she’ll continue on to Southeast Asia. The Camino keeps introducing me to stories I never could have imagined.

We walked together until Albergaria-a-Nova, where I had booked a hostel for the night.

Just beyond a café where we shared one final stop together, standing on a street corner, it was time to say goodbye to Jacob.

We had walked together for eight days.

Eight days of shared kilometres, conversations, quiet stretches, laughter, and companionship. I learned a lot from walking beside him. He will continue on to Santiago before returning home to Denmark.

Saying goodbye to Jacob also brought Rajae to mind, and the special bond the three of us created over these past days. There was something so unexpected and meaningful about finding one another out here—three lives intersecting on the road, sharing space in a way that felt both fleeting and deeply familiar. I know I’ll carry that with me.

I checked into my hostel and found a room with bunk beds, unsure who I’d be sharing it with.

But what felt especially good was knowing I had arrived.

This was my final full day of walking, and my body knew it.

The hostel had a pool and lounge chairs, and I spent the afternoon moving between hot sun and cold water—letting the contrast soothe tired muscles and ease the ache in my feet. It felt less like stopping and more like arriving into rest.

A few hours later, a couple from Italy arrived. They spoke very little English, but somehow we still understood each other. Over dinner we traded words from our languages and shared a few laughs.

The hostel also has a friendship tree, where guests are invited to leave messages for those who come next. Many were written in languages I couldn’t read, but a few stayed with me:

Happiness lies within.

Every step counts — keep going.

I slept deeply that night, grateful for the rest, grateful for the road behind me, and ready for a day in the big city ahead.

Day 12 – Albergaria-a-Nova to Oliveira de Azemeis

14 km

As the church bells rang, I tied my shoes for my final stretch on the Camino.

I had 14 km to walk to the train station in Oliveira de Azeméis, where I would leave the trail and board a train to Porto.

That walk felt symbolic—a beautiful close to an incredible journey.

I started the Camino alone, and I would finish it alone.

Along the way, it felt as though I was offered all my favourite things from the past 12 days one more time. Beautiful architecture rising from quiet streets. The sweet, floral, earthy scent of nature warming in the morning air. Colours so vibrant I wondered how even a Crayola box could improve upon them. And right when my stomach decided it was time to eat, the smell of a nearby bakery appeared once again.

One final gift from the Camino.

But perhaps the most meaningful gift was seeing the man from Slovenia one last time.

The three of us had often joked that he must somehow transcend time. There were days he would leave before us, we would pass him on the trail, and somehow he would already be at the albergue when we arrived. I still don’t understand how he did it.

What I do know is that he had walked the Camino before—and if I understood correctly, once completed 800 km in just 15 days. He is in his 70s.

On my final day, with only a few kilometres left, I came upon him standing at the bottom of a hill beneath the generous shade of a large tree. He was gently stretching and resting before the climb.

I stopped beside him, took a drink of water, shared a photo and wished him well on his journey.

His last words to me were:

“Slowly, slowly.”

Those words landed deeper than the moment itself.

As I climbed the hill, I kept thinking about them.

All along the way he had been walking slowly… yet somehow arriving at the same destination.

Maybe that is the lesson.

Life isn’t about moving at a pace that exhausts you just to get there sooner. It’s about moving at a pace that is sustainable. A pace that allows for care, attention, breath, presence.

The destination may be the same.

The difference is how you feel when you arrive.

I reached the train station in Oliveira de Azeméis, found a group of English-speaking teens who helped me figure out where to wait, and settled in for the train to Porto—which arrived over an hour late.

The platform was hot. I was hungry. And I was holding out for seafood in Porto.

When the train finally arrived, we boarded… only to stop again shortly after. The train was overheating. The crew worked hard hauling water and cooling the engine before we were moving again.

At every stop more teenagers piled on, all heading toward Espinho for the beach.

By the time I reached Porto, the shift felt dramatic.

After 12 days of villages, forests, quiet roads, and the rhythm of walking, the sounds of the city felt loud and overwhelming. I paused, took a few deep breaths, and slowly found my bearings.

Before leaving Canada, I made the decision to spend my final day by the sea. I booked a hotel steps from the beach, close to seafood restaurants and the ocean air.

It felt like the perfect way to land after the Camino.

After checking in, I headed straight back out to explore. Somewhere along the way I found an Italian restaurant—no seafood, but pizza I couldn’t resist.

It had been a long day.

I went to bed early that night feeling tired in the best possible way—grateful for every step behind me, and excited for one final day beside the sea in Portugal.

I’m glad you’re here.

Until next time….there’s more to come.

XO