Life on the Highway: San Fernando to Puerto de Santa María

 "Hiking is not just about walking; it’s about discovering your inner strength."

Via Augusta Stage 2

Yesterday’s hiking on the Via Augusta carried us out of Cádiz and into San Fernando, a town that felt like both an ending and a beginning. Today, the arrows promised new roads toward Puerto Real.

We woke up around 7:00 AM this morning, but as it was still dark outside, and we were feeling the aches and pains of middle age after our first day on the Via Augusta, we decided to take things slow.    Even with the short stage on the Via Augusta yesterday, our bodies felt the weight of our packs, and the reality that we were no longer used to trekking each day was settling in.

Yesterday, we looked at the Via Augusta website and discovered a warning regarding flooding.  Apparently, Spain has been experiencing an unusual amount of rain during the past few weeks, and there is more expected in the coming days. Captain Trevor of the Wind Surf warned of this during our last day at sea, when he pointed out all the land birds sheltering on the ship.  He advised us that we could expect the storm we had been sailing around in the Atlantic for nearly two weeks to make landfall today, and suggested it might bring several days or weeks of rain.  This was not an exciting prospect.

We made a breakfast of extremely mediocre instant coffee and a baguette with jam in our room, each took a couple of Tylenols, and we were just about to head out the door when it began to rain.  The rising sun was just beginning to turn the partly cloudy sky a lovely pale yellow when suddenly the clouds opened up.  It didn't just rain, it poured. 

Suddenly, so much water was falling that the world turned white. We promptly put our backpacks back down on the floor and stood looking out at the beautiful view across the terrace, feeling very grateful to Saint Roch for giving us this incredible shower moments before we stepped out the door and not moments afterwards.  For the next hour or so, one shower after the next rolled through, each one turning the world white and leaving behind pools and streams of water that collected before they could find a way back into the earth or a nearby river.

Return to the Via Augusta 

We finally headed out around 9:00 AM, finding a rain-soaked world that felt cool and energized and smelled fresh and clean.  The sidewalks were full of people heading to work, and some of the fruterias were already open, their plump, juicy, and bountiful produce soaked by the recent rain and looking twice as colourful as usual.  It felt like a brisk morning, where everything was brand new and waiting to be discovered.

As we made our way through town, we passed by a local chapel, delighted to see a White Stork perched proudly on the large rooftop nest.  An Easter mass was just beginning so we didn't attempt to go inside or obtain a stamp.  A short while later, we passed another church, with its eight-sided double spires and magnificent deep blue roof tiles.  We had seen it from the trails out in the salt marsh, and admired it from afar, and it was just as impressive close up. 

The next point of interest was the bright terracotta coloured town hall, which, in true Spanish fashion, looked very imposing and regal.  Outside, the streets were lined with the same red wooden spectator boxes we'd seen in Cadiz on either side of the Semana Santa procession route.  From this point forward the street was lined with seats for the Easter processions, hinting at the celebrations that would be taking place here all throughout the week. 

Yellow Arrows and Camino Markers

As we crossed San Fernando, we had spotted a few yellow arrows and Camino tiles.  The last one we noticed was on the outside of the Tourism Information Center, which, predictably, was still closed at 9:00 AM. 

We didn't know it at the time, but this was the beginning of a rather frustrating dance we did with the arrows and the GPX tracks we had for today's stage, which didn't seem to match up very well.  We had noticed a few discrepancies yesterday, but the first stage was so well signed we simply followed the arrows.  For some reason, we found it much more difficult to follow the arrows today, often failing to find one when we needed it most.

Uncertain, we followed the Camino arrows to the edge of San Fernando, where we reached a large and extremely busy roundabout.  It took us a while to navigate around it, and we quickly lost the route markings.  Rather than crossing and re-crossing the busy on-off ramps for the highway, we followed a quiet side street, which was lined with small white homes that had the beautiful tiles and colourful yellow and blue trim we are used to seeing in southern Portugal. 

Soon we emerged at the base of the Puente Zuazo, where we were pleased to find a faded yellow arrow on the mossy stonework of the bridge that let us know we were on the authorized track.  Ultimately, this route would see us arc alongside the busier new highway for most of the day.  

Birds and Cats

The curving expanse of the stone bridge, with its three large arches, looked beautiful in the morning light.  As we crossed the murky waters of the Caño de Sancti Petri, a graceful white Little Egret flew past overhead, flying straight as an arrow.  Several Barn Swallows darted in and out below the bridge, skimming low to the water.  A lone Yellow-legged Gull also passed overhead, giving a plaintive call as it went. Below us the waters looked opaque and greenish, blending in with the extensive salt marshes that kept it within its banks.

On the far side of the bridge, we followed a disused road through a scrubby landscape.  One side of us was the slat flats, and to our delight, we spotted a few small groups of Greater Flamingos wading through the shallows.  The road was lined with tall, feathery phragmites grass that waved gently in the breeze, as well as very large cacti, which were loaded with bright purple fruit.  Together with the other yellow, white, pink, and purple blooming wildflowers that bordered the abandoned road this made for a very colourful, wild, and interesting landscape.  

In this stretch, we also spotted quite a few signs about feral cats, and a program that was in place to spay, feed, shelter, and help them get adopted.  An old building with a magnificent palm tree towering above it had hundreds of small individual shelters and feeding stations outside for the cats, and we spotted a few lovely tabbies hiding among the cacti and peeking shyly out at us from the tall grasses.  Spain has quite a few stray animals, and it was nice to see that at least in this small corner of the country, there were efforts being made to help out.

Under the Highway 

Soon we came back to the highway, and our GPX tracks suggested we should cross over it, box around a shopping complex on the far side, and then cross back over the six lanes again to this side.  We have since discovered that the route may actually remain on the far side of the highway, but we didn't know this at the time. 

The highway was a major one, with wire fencing on both sides and a concrete divider in the middle, making it impassable on foot without an overpass or an underpass.  There were no arrows in evidence to direct us, and while there was a pedestrian overpass leading to the shopping mall on the far side, we saw no evidence of a way to cross back over to our side.  Instead, we spotted a dirt track that led off in the direction we needed to go, following along beside the train tracks on our side of the highway. 

There seemed to be a few locals out walking it, so we decided to follow that instead and see if it took us to where we needed to be.  We figured if it didn't, we would simply retrace our steps and brave crossing the freeway.

The track worked, although it took us through some very mucky bits where there was a bit of construction going on. At one point, when we had to duck under a very low underpass beneath the highway, we almost gave up and turned around.  However, as if St. Roch was sending us a sign, a man on an electric scooter drove through the muck and disappeared under the garbage-strewn underpass ahead.  We followed him, and just as we were crawling through, what did we find? Two yellow Camino arrows in a place where there should be none!

At this point, our GPX tracks had us on the other side of the freeway, so what they were doing there remains a mystery to us.  When we arrived at the point where our tracks would cross back over, there was no way to get back across the highway to our side, so at the time, we took it as a good thing that we decided to go exploring!

For the next kilometres or so, we followed a disused road that was wedged between the freeway on one side and a small river on the other.  The traffic was rather loud, but we were glad to be safely off the busy road, and the small river beside us was filled with an interesting variety of different shorebirds, including large flocks of Dunlin foraging in the mud along its banks.  As we walked, we kept an eye on a very large, dark, storm cloud that was rapidly gaining on us from behind.  When the wind picked up, we even went so far as to put our rain jackets and pack covers on, but in the end, we experienced nothing worse than a few random sprinkles.

Off Ramps and Roadways

Eventually, our road turned into an off-ramp for the freeway, and we began to have cars passing us by.  This was a little precarious because the tall grasses, shrubs, and other roadside vegetation were beginning to take over the shoulder of the road, often pushing us out into the traffic lanes. 

However, the drivers were very considerate, and thankfully, the kilometres passed without incident.  We made a brief stop at the Repsol gas station, which had a small Tienda and a water tap, but seeing that there was a café in the next village, Barrio de Jarana, we chose to continue on without purchasing anything.

Barrio de Jarana

As we approached the tiny community of Barrio de Jarana, we found ourselves on a dedicated bicycle lane, which was a nice change from the shoulder of the road.  To our delight, the café was open, and we sat on the outdoor patio in the sunshine, enjoying a nice break and a delicious café con leche.

It felt good to rest for a few minutes, and the café even had a stamp for our pilgrim passports!  If we had known then what the next stretch of the Via Augusta had in store for us, we would have made more of our break.

Yellow Arrows and GPX Tracks

We had followed yellow arrows into town, and they directed us through the tiny community, along sidewalks bordered by towering pine trees with huge umbrella tops.  On the far side of the town, the markings disappeared entirely. With no other options, we followed the GPX tracks we'd downloaded as part of the 'all Spanish Caminos' set from the Dutch pilgrim society.  We had used these tracks without any major issues while hiking the Camino de Madrid, the Camino Portuguese Central, and the Camino Primitivo. 

We had no reason to distrust these tracks, and at first, it was okay, as we followed along the side of the freeway on an overgrown footpath.  Then we needed to cross over an overpass/underpass.  The dirt track we were following became a barely existing path before disappearing altogether.  Now impassable, the Camino seemed to be completely fenced off.  The only way to continue forward was to climb over the guardrail onto the shoulder of the highway and continue walking down the onramp. 

What followed was a rather terrifying few kilometres.  We were walking on the shoulder of the highway itself, and not only that, we had to go through five separate roundabouts, crossing multiple lanes of the freeway to do so. In Canada, it would not have been legal to walk where we were going. Perhaps it wasn't here either, but for lack of any other options, we followed the GPX tracks. 

Maybe we were on a bike route, and not the hiking trail?  Just when we reached the edge of civilization, on the side of the highway guardrail, we spotted a yellow arrow pointing us into the town.

It was a relief to see the familiar marker, but it also felt a bit like a cruel joke, where the markers had disappeared when the 'trail' was too dangerous for pedestrians, but suddenly reappeared at the edge of town, where the sidewalk began.  We were familiar with this style of trail marking from walking the Trans Canada Trail, and we weren't a fan of it there either.

Puerto Real

From there, we followed palm tree-lined streets into the center of Puerto Real.  A long promenade through a modern subdivision of small white homes with near-identical walls and gates gave way to a rather busy downtown area.  We were still shaken and full of nervous energy and resentment from our harrowing highway trek, and the Easter crowds we met in the downtown area felt loud and overwhelming.  

Spanish ladies were elegant and well-dressed, while the gentlemen marched around spitting seeds.  It was quite a charming-looking area, but the sidewalks were very crowded, every bar and cafe was standing room only, and two English-speaking pilgrims with large backpacks were clearly not welcome among the jostling masses. 

We had planned to stop in Puerto Real for the night, but since we were unable to find anywhere to sit down for a few minutes in the shade to find accommodations, we ended up walking straight through the town and continuing onwards towards Puerto Santa Maria, which was around 12 km farther on.  Perhaps it was good to burn off some of the excess energy and bad mood we found ourselves in from all the highway trekking.

Puerto Santa Maria 

The next section of the trail took us back over the highway and onto the university campus of the Puerto Real UCA.  We finally took a break at a picnic table sheltered under a grove of huge pines at the start of a lovely multi-use recreational pathway. 

We watched a group of three chickens foraging in the undergrowth around the rest area, and found a place in Puerto Santa Maria to stay for the night.  As we took our break, a steady stream of people walked and peddled past on the trail, which we soon learned would take us into a gorgeous natural park and green space that stretched along the Rio de San Pedro.  

Leave No Trace

Not every moment on the trail is inspiring, and sometimes we witness things that remind us how fragile our natural spaces really are. In the midst of the nature reserve, we came across one family whose casual disregard for the environment left us puzzled.  

Walking down the trail, we spotted a woman holding her youngest child a few feet up in the air, his pants were off and he was defecating.  Having done his business in the middle of the path no less, he was redressed by his mother before they all walked on. 

Then, soon afterwards, while crossing a long wooden bridge leading to the Avenida del Mar, the father unzipped his pants and began to urinate into the marsh.  The three children with them, spotting this all quickly, lined up and did the same thing.  Capping it off, the mother began clapping and cheering them on.  

While perhaps the mother was just excited at a communal family activity taking place, we nonetheless found their actions to be out of place in such a fragile birding site.  Indeed, it reminded us of a comment we’d once heard in Portugal, where, while purchasing a guidebook for the Rota Vicentina, we were told that “sadly, people in Portugal and Spain don’t take care of nature very well”. 

Those words never seemed truer than this moment. It was also a sharp reminder that conservation begins with respect and that trails, especially those through wetlands and bird habitats, deserve our care.  Even protected places, no matter how beautiful, are vulnerable unless the people who visit them continue to care for them.  

Glossy Ibis 

Beyond this odd experience, the park itself was beautiful with trees providing shade as we ventured along the wide dirt tracks and boardwalks.  As we continued through the parkland, nature served and approached the town of Santa Maria, we witnessed half a dozen paragliders over the local beach and resorts as they followed the coastline.  In addition to this, we spotted several Glossy Ibis! 

The Glossy Ibis is one of Spain’s more striking wetland birds, easily recognized by its slender, downcurved bill and dark plumage that shimmers with bronze, green, and purple in the sunlight. Once scarce, this species has made a strong comeback in Iberia and is now a regular sight in marshes, rice fields, and estuaries along the Mediterranean and Guadalquivir wetlands. Watching flocks of these elegant birds sweep low over the reeds adds a touch of vibrancy to any day on the trail.

Puerto Santa Maria

The dirt track wound its way through the nature reserve and eventually led us to the outskirts of town, where it merged with a major roadway that carried us onward toward Puerto de Santa María.

Walking through Puerto de Santa María was, in truth, more of a transit than an experience. The route through town felt long and uninspiring, and instead of following arrows, we had to rely on GPX tracks that appeared and disappeared without much consistency.

Much of the way passed through commercial zones, lined with familiar international chains such as Burger King, McDonald’s, and Decathlon, before forcing us alongside a busy highway. Only after crossing the waterway did the character of the town shift, with older streets and a hint of historic charm. Guidebooks suggested visiting the Castle of San Marcos and the Basilica of Our Lady of Miracles, but since it was Easter Week, both sites were closed.

Accommodations and Dinner

Crossing the pedestrian bridge, we paused to take photographs of the churches and the waterway, trying to capture a glimpse of the beauty Puerto de Santa María had to offer. Stopping briefly to check our location, we realized our hotel was only a couple of blocks away, and so, with sore feet from a full day of walking, we continued on.

Our hotel, Casa del Regidor, greeted us with a beautiful lobby, complete with a garden and fountain. Yet, despite the 25°C heat outside, the interior was oppressively warm, with heaters running and our room preset to 30°C. After a long day on the trail, stepping inside with our backpacks felt suffocating.

Checked in, we quickly stripped down, showered, and set our gear out to dry and recharge.  Falling into pilgrim routines from years past, we divided these tasks between us so that while one washed, the other hung clothing and organized equipment.

Later, we made a quick trip to Dia to gather simple food for the night: bread, cheese, tomatoes, and guacamole. The streets, however, reminded us to stay vigilant. At one point, someone attempted to grab at Sonya’s security bag before veering off and breaking into song. Not long after, a Roma woman moved through the streets singing and clapping loudly, drawing the attention of onlookers while two of her companions slipped through the crowd, deftly picking pockets. It was an unsettling reminder of the importance of staying aware in busy towns.

Evening in Puerto de Santa Maria

In the evening, we wandered to O’Donoghue’s Irish Pub, laptops and sweaters in hand, hoping for a quiet space to work. To our surprise, what we assumed would be a tourist trap turned out to be one of the busiest spots in town. We ordered pints of Guinness and settled on the patio, journaling, editing photos, and planning ahead for the coming days. As the night cooled, processions passed by, with penitents in purple robes tied with rope cords making their way through the streets. All the while, rain fell on and off, driving people under the pub’s veranda in their Friday best.

By eight o’clock, we returned to the hotel, where the remainder of the evening was spent simply: bread, cheese, tomatoes, guacamole, and rosé wine shared in our room while we tidied up and worked a little more. 

Though we often wondered if anyone else was walking the Via Augusta, the trail itself felt quiet. Perhaps it was simply our timing - leaving later in the day and stopping often to watch birds - but we hadn’t yet encountered other pilgrims. In town, we sometimes spotted people who looked like hikers, but on the trail itself, we remained alone, walking at our own pace, in our own rhythm.

Yet, walking alone has its own quiet rewards. Without the chatter of a group or the pull of company, we find ourselves more attuned to the calls of unseen birds and the subtle shifts in landscape that might otherwise pass unnoticed.

See you on the Way!