Rain is forecast for the entire day. We wake up early, as usual, and head down for breakfast. It’s a continental breakfast, so I help myself to everything I see without thinking twice. By the time I finish, I’m quite full, satisfied, and with a long day ahead. The rain shows no sign of stopping, and I hesitate between heading out or taking a rest day. Argos wants to leave immediately. I tell him to wait ten minutes while I go up to the room to get my things ready. When I come back down, I find him fully geared up in his rain attire, ready to go. Still doubtful, I suggest waiting a bit for the rain to ease, but he replies that it won’t stop – it’s just water, not sulfuric acid.

I gather my strength and take my bike to the road. We take a few photos and set off. Argos rides ahead, and I stop at the first block to adjust my poncho, which had come loose. By the time I get back on my bike, Argos is out of sight. The thought crosses my mind that I might not see him again, as he planned to cover more distance that day.

The first task is to find the way out of the city. The rain doesn’t help. After a few blocks, I’m already soaked. I ask a man for directions. He points the way, and I continue. I pass through a square and notice the automatic sprinklers are running – during a storm, no less. Redundant, to say the least. Maybe it was a sign of what was to come a few minutes later.

I stop another man to ask if I’m on the right path. His directions are vague and contradictory.

—You can go this way… No, better that way… No, this way.

The rain continues, and the man’s unclear answers leave me stuck in his monologue, waiting for a pause to thank him and move on.

—Wait! —he shouts when I’ve already cycled a block away—. That way is better!

I pedal a few more blocks and start seeing pilgrims, confirming I’m on the right track. The landscape is picturesque. Despite the rain, I enjoy the view of the villages. I push on a bit further and stop at a tree-lined passage. Just then, Argos calls. He tells me he’s already in a village much further ahead, having taken the national road, a different route. I realize I probably won’t see him again on the Camino.

I keep going calmly and come across a meadow. I get off the bike to rest a bit during the climb. I realize that it had already stopped raining, and I find myself walking next to a woman with whom I start a conversation. She’s Australian but grew up in Uruguay, so she speaks Spanish perfectly.

—Have you seen where we are? —she asks.

I look up and see a beautiful landscape with vast fields and hills partially covered by clouds. She offers to take a photo of me, and then I take one of her. After a while, a friend of hers shows up, and they stay to take photos together. I say goodbye to them and continue on my way.

That’s when I realize the climb is about to end, and it’s time to get back on the bike. Just then, a magpie flies in front of me, crossing the path and marking the end of the uphill stretch, revealing the long-awaited descent ahead. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen a magpie along the entire Camino, and I recently read that magpies are a good omen and associated with good luck. The light is soft, like in a dream. In the distance, I spot a village. The moment couldn’t be more perfect. I stop pedaling and let myself be carried by the sublime descent.

A bit later, Argos calls again. He’s even further ahead. I check the map. I think I’ve covered half the stage, but I realize I still have 35 km to go. Since leaving the hotel, I had been convinced the stage was 30 km. No matter – the day is beautiful.

I pass through villages and landscapes, and at some point, I pause by a cherry tree. It reminds me of my mother, who bakes pies with them. I miss her. I continue on. The path is mostly paved, with some dirt sections. I take off my poncho and jacket, determined not to stop until I arrive. I thought about grabbing a beer, but without Argos, it doesn’t feel right. Besides, I want to reach Las Herrerías before the rain returns.

I arrive at the village at one in the afternoon. I find a hostel and ask about availability. They tell me it opens in half an hour, so I decide to have lunch. To my surprise, I find Argos sipping sangria. I’m thrilled.

—I thought I wouldn’t see you again!

—A lot happened —he replies with a smile—. My phone died, I got lost…

We chat, and he convinces me to continue to O Cebreiro, 8 km uphill. Although I planned to stay, I decide to push on.

Argos goes ahead, as I still want to eat something before leaving. I head to the restaurant next door, where they serve me a dish worthy of a documentary restaurant. The starter is a charcuterie board with house-made cured meats and incredible bread. The main course is a tenderloin steak with potatoes and bell peppers. For dessert, a pudding. All of it accompanied by a jug of the best wine I’ve tasted so far on the Camino.

After a while, the bike rental service shows up to pick up the bicycle, just as we had agreed. We chat for a bit, then they load the bike into their van, and we say our goodbyes.

From that point on, I’m just another pilgrim. I pack everything into my laptop backpack, now stuffed to 110% of its capacity. I put on my rain poncho and set off. The stretch is a steep climb along a dirt and rocky path – a great moment to test my city shoes, which are not fit for expeditions.

I check the map; it’s two and a half hours to O Cebreiro. I start climbing, feeling new muscles engage. Although I’ve walked a lot in my life, I realize this will be different. I carry extra weight, with hundreds of kilometers still ahead.

Physically, I feel fine. My spirit is high. I’m unstoppable. I reach a point where the path splits – one for bikes and one for walkers. I take the latter, officially declaring myself a walking pilgrim.