Day 50: Otur to Mondoñedo | 90km
21 July 2026
The campground I stayed in was perhaps the best one on the entire trip. The minimum for a good spot is a flat patch of grass, but this one just felt incredibly friendly. It was also nice to connect with other campers and exchange some stories. Like I’ve said many times, I feel like this trip has lacked some human connection, especially in the north.
I packed up silently so as not to wake any neighbours at the campsite, and as I did, I could see many slowly coming to life, unzipping their tents, letting their dogs out of their caravans, and setting the table for a morning coffee. Whether it’s a city, campground, village or beach, I love seeing how people and their surroundings slowly come to life and the little rituals everyone has to get their day started. For breakfast, I had bought a very big empanada, which I enjoyed sitting on a rock perfectly shaped like a bench next to my tent. Not having to prepare breakfast, but just opening the paper bag around the empanada, felt great. Preparing food while camping always requires so much time to do it properly. Even my usual breakfast consisting of a baguette, peanut butter and banana feels more like a chore than it does at home.
After packing up and eating, I led my bike to the reception of the campground, where I stopped for a quick coffee before heading out. I was having some issues with my navigation device, so I spent a good 30 minutes trying to fix the problem. Essentially, every time I tried adding a new map to navigate, everything would just crash. I had to reinstall some apps to make it work in the end, but I’ve dealt with this issue for a while now, although it’s gotten worse and worse.
I think back to the time when navigation computers didn’t exist and wonder what was preferable. A problem I often run into now when people ask me where I’ve been during the day is that I barely remember because I’m following the computer, so there’s no need for me to truly immerse myself in the maps or geography. I have a good sense of where I’ve been since I created the maps I’m following, but it’s hard for it to really sink in while I’m riding. It’s a strange trade-off. I can travel more efficiently and confidently, but at the same time, I’m less aware of exactly where I am.
The roads I followed hugged the mountains along the coast, and there were a lot of ups and downs, literally, as I ascended one hill only to descend it later. I didn’t mind much, though, because the speed downhill was so much fun and my legs feel accustomed to the climbing now. Actually, my endurance in the mountains feels like the thing I’ve improved the most on this trip. I don’t train speed on flats much since I have so much packing, but going uphill, there’s no option but to get stronger.
Every now and again, I passed a surf spot with campers crowding the parking lot, boards attached to the roof racks. One of the other campers I met at the campsite last night was there for the surf too, but told me the waves in the area were not ideal at the moment. I looked out into the ocean and could see what he meant, but that didn’t prevent eager surfers from trying. I saw a few who actually caught a wave. I’ve never surfed, but watching someone skilled catch a wave and ride it looks like so much fun. I imagine it’s similar to cycling down a steep hill in that it requires full focus and everything else falls to the side, otherwise you could risk an injury. With the risk of sounding like a cliché, I guess it forces you to fully be in the moment.
As I got close to a town called Foz, the road turned inland and I sadly left the coast behind me. I won’t see the ocean again until I reach Portugal, which is very sad given how much I’ve enjoyed riding next to it. All my favourite spots on this trip have been by the coast, so my expectations for the coming days are, well, restrained.
My final destination for the day, Mondoñedo, is a small town with a big cathedral right in the middle of the town square. After parking and unloading my bike at the hostel, I went for a short stroll and stumbled upon a sports store packed with gear from floor to ceiling. For the past few days, I’d been searching for a pair of sandals to ride in, but all the ones I’d found so far had been very ugly, and I wasn’t that desperate for sandals. This store, though, had a perfect pair for bikepacking, so without hesitation I got them.
The last time I wore sandals with Velcro straps was probably when I was ten. I guess it was a full-circle moment, but this time it was purely for comfort and some breeze on the road. It feels like a milestone moment in life where comfort beats style, but there’s a lot I would do just to make the trip more comfortable. The long days of riding are hard, so if I can give my sweaty feet a break and a chance to see the sun, I’ll do it. I’d continued wearing the plastic Birkenstocks unless they chafed my feet, so here we are. I might throw out the hiking shoes I’ve been riding in so far, because their job seems to be done.