Chatting while we were getting ready to leave the albergue, Rachel and I realised we had both had the same experience during the night. We had woken in the early hours and spotted that the front door of the Albergue was wide open, light spilling in from the streetlights outside. Neither of us could face a climb down the rickety ladders to close it, so we thought ‘Nah, I’m sure it’s fine’, rolled over and went back to sleep.

I had woken several times during the night, listening to a symphony of creaking and squeaking beds mingled with several loud snorers. It was a relief when it was time to rise, even though it was still dark outside. Today’s forecast was not good. We would be walking in heavy rain for most of the day, so we pulled on waterproofs before venturing outside.

The rain had already started, sweeping across the harbour and into our exposed faces as we climbed steeply up the cobbled streets out of Pontedeume. After a while, we turned off the road onto tracks through woodland made muddy and slippery, hunkered into our waterproofs against the driving rain like tortoises in their shells.

I regretted not getting my head torch out before setting off. flinging my rucksack off, I tried to find it in the depths of the cavernous top pocket, but couldn’t, and grumpily stuffed everything back into place before swinging it onto my back. Rachel had wisely walked ahead as I stomped along, muttering under my breath and trying to keep my footing on the slippery path, slick with water dripping from an extensive tree cover.

My mood improved as the sky started to lighten, even though the rain hadn’t lessened. We were now walking parallel to a motorway, bright with car headlights, and could see the enticing lights of a service station ahead. Just as we were eagerly anticipating a hot drink, the Camino markers turned us away from it to climb steeply through more dank woods.

By the time we had puffed and groaned our way to the top, it was light, which improved our morale considerably. We followed good tracks through the forest, our attention suddenly caught by a sign nailed to a tree, proclaiming that there was tea and coffee ahead!

We eagerly strode downhill, hoping the sign didn’t lie, to find an open café, with covered seating adorned by very damp, weary pilgrims, grateful for the shelter.

As I enjoyed my coffee and breakfast frittata, I took in the whitewashed wall painted with a large map of the Camino route looming over a stall selling knickknacks, listening to the rather incongruous sound of bagpipes. Eclectic, but I’d take it.

Kent stumbled in and joined us, saying that Richard, who had gone ahead, had warned him that a bridge just ahead was out. He joined us as we rerouted to follow the road into Mino, past several statues and sculptures.

Still weary, Rachel and I found a café for another coffee. Alarmingly, the wall-mounted television above Rachel displayed a constant montage of weather warnings and film footage of torrential rain and wind – I don’t know much Spanish but I could guess the meaning of ‘huracanes!’

Unable to delay the inevitable any longer we headed back out into the rain, passing a very wet, sandy beach before starting a series of steep climbs. This set the scene for the next few kilometres – climbing, then descending to pass through a straggle of houses before climbing again. We were both weary, but as we reached the top of the final hill it stopped raining, and we were treated to a rather misty view of Bentanzos – our destination for the night.

We descended steeply down a cobbled street, past a rounded stone church into the town to cross a river. Bentanzos still retains its medieval town walls, and we entered through an ancient gateway.

The albergue at Bentanzos is lovely. It is an old building carefully restored with plenty of places to sit and nooks to explore. The bunk beds have screens between them for privacy and it was a pleasure to have a warm shower and get into some dry clothes. Our dormitory resembled a laundry as everyone hung wet gear wherever they could find in the hope that it might dry.

We ventured out for tea after a much-needed rest on our bunks, walking through a couple of lovely old squares straight out of history books. Bentanzos is beautiful and we passed so many gorgeous old buildings.

We wanted to find a supermarket to purchase breakfast and lunch for tomorrow but found none. Google maps took us to places that were no longer there.

We were directed to a tobacconist by a fellow pilgrim but found only drinks and crisps on offer. I used my very rudimentary Spanish, and we were directed to a small supermarket further up the road. As we reached it, we noticed with dismay that it was closing, but on spotting us peering through the glass in the door the owner put the lights back on, opened up and welcomed us in.

We eagerly purchased a stash of snacks and headed back up the steep, cobbled streets to the Albergue, sharing some chocolate before lights out.

I hoped for a better night’s sleep tonight.