Nature Along the Way: Birds and Wildlife on the Camino Portugués Coastal and Espiritual Routes

“But in every walk with Nature one receives far more than he seeks.”

John Muir, “Mormon Lilies,” later collected in Steep Trails

 

Following the Atlantic from Porto into Galicia

 

By the time we reached Porto, we had already been walking north through Portugal for several weeks. Our journey had begun far to the south in Lagos, where we followed the Rota Vicentina around Cabo de São Vicente and north along the Atlantic coast to São Torpes. From there, we made our way to Lisbon and returned to the Camino Portugués Central, a route we had first walked several years earlier. This time, however, we deliberately chose not to keep a daily public record of that familiar section. Sean continued to photograph each day, and we still carried our binoculars and watched the birds around us, but for a while we wanted to enjoy walking without turning every experience into a story.

 

Porto became the point where the journey changed again. Rather than continuing inland along the Central route we already knew, we turned back toward the Atlantic and followed a combination of the Litoral and Coastal Caminos north through Portugal. After crossing the Minho River into Spain, we continued through Galicia and eventually left the increasingly busy main route near Pontevedra to follow the less busy Variante Espiritual. From Vilanova de Arousa, a boat would carry us through the estuary and up the Ulla River before we returned to land and continued toward Santiago de Compostela.

 

By then, we were not searching for another revelation about nature or slow travel. Years on the Trans Canada Trail and repeated Caminos had already made clear how much we valued time outdoors, bird watching, and the freedom to stop when something caught our attention. What the Coastal and Espiritual routes offered was simply another setting in which those interests could be lived once more. Here, the natural world appeared not primarily in remote or seemingly wild landscapes, but among cities, seaside neighbourhoods, harbours, resorts, beaches, forests, estuaries and increasingly busy pilgrimage corridors.

 

Returning to the Atlantic in Porto

 

We left Porto beside the Douro River, following its broad sweep westward toward the Atlantic. Even before reaching the coast, the river – or rather the life in it - slowed us repeatedly. Muscovy Ducks, Mallards, Common Sandpipers and egrets worked the shoreline while the city continued around them.  Not long after, an unfamiliar electrical-sounding call near the Jardim do Passeio Alegre drew us toward nearby trees. There, Monk Parakeets were moving through the branches and gathering nesting material, adding another unexpected species to an already complicated urban ecosystem of ornamental plantings, public gardens, old buildings and river habitat.

 

At the mouth of the Douro, the river opened into the Atlantic, and the Camino began following promenades, beaches, seawalls, boardwalks and dunes of the coast. The ocean had last been our constant companion much farther south on the Rota Vicentina, but northern Portugal offered a very different experience. Instead of long stretches of exposed cliffs, isolated headlands, and towering stork nests, we moved through a heavily inhabited strip of fishing communities, apartment blocks, holiday areas and working harbours.  With that said, the wildlife was no less interesting because people were nearby. Bar-tailed Godwits and Yellow-legged Gulls fed along shorelines also used by swimmers and beachgoers, while smaller shorebirds worked among rocks and wet sand.

 

North of the city, long wooden boardwalks carried us through dune systems and areas identified for their ecological and ornithological importance. Interpretive signs described the plants, insects and birds supported by the dunes, drawing attention to habitats that could look empty if crossed too quickly. Kentish Plovers moved across the sand, their small fluffy bodies blending remarkably well into the pale ground, while insects and butterflies worked among vegetation growing between the dunes. The boardwalks and Camino route that traversed this area both demonstrated how a trail could allow thousands of people to move through vulnerable habitat without trampling directly across it.

 

Small Lives Beside the Coast

 

Some of the most memorable encounters during those early coastal stages occurred at ground level. Lizards repeatedly darted across the path or disappeared beneath low vegetation, while in one pond we found our first Iberian Water Frog. Ocellated Lizards appeared in warmer, drier areas, sometimes basking beside the trail and sometimes chasing one another through the vegetation. They were easy to overlook if one remained focused on the trail or the arrow / shell indicators that marked the Way.  But once noticed, they quickly became part of the character of the route.

 

Regularly we found ourselves stopping - a large bird across an estuary might stop us for ten minutes, but so could a lizard disappearing into a wall or an unfamiliar call from a hedge. Paying attention to the coastline meant being willing to look both outward toward the water or beach and downward at whatever was moving around our feet.  These sightings were especially welcome as the coastline and natural spaces were continually interrupted by communities, cafés, promenades and infrastructure. Yet these interruptions did not diminish the natural world. They simply changed the places in which we encountered it.

 

Estuaries and Wetlands of Northern Portugal

 

The rivers flowing toward the Atlantic repeatedly intersected the northward line of the Camino and created some of the richest birding landscapes of the Portuguese coast. Near Esposende, an observation blind overlooked marsh and wetland habitat where White Wagtails, Spotless Starlings, Eurasian Blackbirds and other birds moved through vegetation and along the water. The presence of a dedicated blind beside the route made birdwatching feel as though it was built into the Camino, and we were happy to stop there while other walkers continued onward.

 

Farther north, the Lima River widened into another substantial estuary near Viana do Castelo. Here whimbrels worked the banks, and Black-headed Gulls gathered closer to the water while the Camino itself navigated the geography of the river, following bridges, promenades and roads around the estuary. These crossings repeatedly reminded us how far the Atlantic reached inland through Portugal's river systems. A coastline is never simply the line where land meets ocean; rivers pull marine influence deep into landscapes.

 

Given all that can be seen, our progress through these areas was often pleasantly inefficient. The coast remained thoroughly inhabited by nature throughout these sections.  Binoculars and a long camera lens encouraged us to stay beside the water far longer than a conventional stage plan required, and other pilgrims sometimes stopped to ask what we were watching. Some were birders themselves, while others simply became curious because we were standing still with optics pointed toward a marsh or mudflat. Watching birds frequently created conversations that would never have happened had we simply kept walking.

 

Woodlands, Wildflowers and the Way Inland

 

Despite its name – and all that it might imply - the Coastal Camino did not remain beside the ocean. At times it moved inland along country lanes, through vineyards, fields and forest, and the change from the openness of the Atlantic into enclosed woodland could be surprising. Between Viana do Castelo and Caminha, old paths passed beneath pines and eucalyptus while spring wildflowers coloured stone walls and forest edges. Purple foxglove, toadflax, fleabane and other flowers appeared along the route, attracting butterflies and insects while birdsong filled the forest canopy.

 

Moss covered old stonework in damper sections, and eucalyptus added its distinctive scent to the air. The trees often provided welcome shade and a reprieve from the heat of the day, but their presence also reflected a more complicated history of land use and commercial forestry in Portugal. Having already watched wildfires alter our plans in Canada, it was difficult to walk through extensive plantation landscapes without noticing the relationship between vegetation, human management and the potential for widespread wildfire.

 

Crossing the Minho

 

At Caminha, the Minho River formed the boundary between Portugal and Spain. We crossed in a small motorboat, leaving the Portuguese shore behind and landing near A Pasaxe in Galicia. On the Spanish side, signs identified birding routes and protected areas associated with the Rede Natura network, while boardwalks carried us beneath pine forest near Monte de Santa Trega. Flowers continued to line the trail, and birds moved among the trees even when some of the species described on interpretive signs remained (frustratingly) beyond our view.

 

Beyond A Guarda and Oia, the Camino followed a rocky shoreline interrupted by small agricultural plots, stone walls, woodland and scattered communities. Eurasian Wrens called from dense morning vegetation, Stonechats used fences and shrubs above the fields and lizards warmed themselves on sunlit stone. The combination of coast and farmland created a much more varied and dynamic edge than the beaches we had recently followed farther south.

 

One of the more startling encounters occurred when a Common Buzzard suddenly rose from a field carrying a large brown snake. The snake twisted beneath the bird while the buzzard struggled to gain altitude, predator and prey briefly suspended above the ground in a scene that lasted only seconds. There was no time to prepare for it and almost no warning that anything unusual was about to happen – yet it was amazing to sight.  

 

Tidal Flats at A Ramallosa

 

Near A Ramallosa, the Camino entered one of the richest birding areas of the entire journey. Low tide had exposed extensive mudflats in the Río Miñor estuary, and the shoreline was immediately filled with calls and movement. Little Egrets, White Wagtails, Whimbrels, Black-bellied Plovers, Common Ringed Plovers, Ruddy Turnstones, Dunlin, Grey Herons and Common Redshanks were among the birds recorded in our notes as we slowly followed the riverside walkway.  

People were working in the estuary as well, harvesting shellfish from the exposed flats while colourful boats rested nearby – a fact which explained the birdlife here as well. The protected landscape was not separated from local livelihood; conservation, recreation, food gathering and birdlife occupied the same tidal space. As elsewhere along the Coastal Camino, the most interesting places were often those where several different uses of the landscape overlapped.

 

We moved so slowly that other pilgrims regularly passed us. During one stop, two Canadian women approached to ask what we were watching, and the conversation gradually shifted from birds and conservation toward a story they had seen from Canada about two people walking the Trans Canada Trail while recording birds and speaking with schoolchildren about nature. It took a moment before they realized that those people were us. The encounter was funny, but it also captured something we had come to enjoy about birding while travelling: binoculars could turn strangers into companions remarkably quickly.

 

Farther along the shore, an older Spanish man saw us trying to leave the Camino to investigate more of the birding area and became convinced we were lost. Despite our attempts to explain that the detour was intentional, he kindly and firmly redirected us back toward Santiago. Eventually we gave in, thanked him and returned to the marked route. While we had lost some birding time, we had nevertheless gained another small encounter with someone determined to make sure two wandering pilgrims reached their destination – all in all, a wonderful act of kindness.

 

Vigo, Forests and an Increasingly Busy Camino

 

Beyond A Ramallosa, the route approached Vigo through beaches, pine woods and suburbs. Birds remained a constant presence, including Great Tits and European Shags, although birdwatching along one clothing-optional beach created the slightly awkward problem of trying to use binoculars and a camera without appearing interested in the wrong subjects. It was one of those very humbling moments that can sometimes happen. 

 

Vigo interrupted the coastal rhythm of pilgrimage more dramatically than walking beside nude beaches. Traffic, steep streets, industry and confusing navigation made the city feel very different from the wetlands and shorelines through which we had been moving. Yet leaving town produced an equally striking transition. From Vigo the Camino climbed the steep hillsides nearby and entered eucalyptus and deciduous woodlands above the harbour, passing the Rego Fondón waterfall and following a shaded corridor where flowing water quickly displaced the noise of the city below.

 

Near Redondela, the Coastal, Litoral and Central routes began converging. The resulting increase in pilgrim traffic was unmistakable, and walkers beginning within the final hundred kilometres added to those already travelling north. Our ability to stop whenever we wished became more constrained, but the natural landscape did not disappear simply because the path became busier. Woodland alternated with fields, vineyards and river valleys, while moss-covered walls and European Robins continued to accompany the route.  In addition to which, near Pontevedra, an alternative route along the Río Tomeza provided a more peaceful trek along a green river corridor. It was a reminder that even on increasingly crowded pilgrim routes, small choices could change the quality of a stage.

 

Turning onto the Variante Espiritual

 

North of Pontevedra, we reached the signed division between the main Camino and the Variante Espiritual and turned west. The change in atmosphere was almost immediate. Pilgrim numbers dropped, and the route climbed through quiet communities, vineyards, and stretches of pine and eucalyptus forest. Pink and purple wildflowers spread across meadows and roadside banks, while from higher ground the broad waters of the Ría de Pontevedra could be spotted below us.

 

Descending toward Poio and Combarro returned us to tidal habitat. With the water out, broad mudflats were exposed and filled with birds. Eurasian Blackbirds, Black-headed Gulls, Yellow-legged Gulls, Great Black-backed Gulls, Whimbrels, Little Egrets, Common Ringed Plovers and Eurasian Linnets repeatedly led us to our progress along the shoreline.  

 

From the coast, the Camino climbed again through vineyards and forest toward Armenteira. Near the monastery, we encountered the local legend of Don Ero, the first abbot, who was said to have entered the woods and become so entranced by birdsong that what felt like a short time passed while centuries slipped away. Whether understood as religious legend, allegory or simply as a story attached to a beautiful region, it suited the landscape remarkably well.  For my part, I had felt that the tale reflected the fact that anyone who has stopped beneath a forest canopy searching for the source of an unfamiliar call knows how quickly distance and time can momentarily become unimportant. 

 

The Way of Stone and Water

 

From Armenteira, the Espiritual followed the Ruta da Pedra e da Auga, the Way of Stone and Water, which became one of the most memorable natural sections of our entire Portuguese journey. The path followed the Río Umia through a cool green corridor of moss, lichen, ferns, dense vegetation and old stonework. Water moved constantly nearby, flowing around rocks and beneath trees while the remains of historic mills stood along the riverbank. Given the lushness of the region, their foundations and walls had begun to merge with the surrounding woodland.  It now served as home to moss and vegetation until it had become difficult to tell where construction ended and the forest began. After the open Atlantic coast and the growing pilgrim traffic on the main routes, the enclosure and quiet of the river corridor felt very luxurious and wonderful to venture along.  The rough footing required enough attention that there was little incentive to hurry. 

 

This was not wilderness. The old mills were reminders that people had used the river for generations, and the path itself followed a landscape shaped by both natural processes and human activity. Yet those dual realities seemed especially compatible here. Water had powered the mills, vegetation had gradually reclaimed their stonework, and the modern trail allowed walkers to move through both histories at once.  Here – near water, stone, and forest life, it felt as though a pilgrimage network increasingly defined by the number of walkers, the distances remaining to Santiago, and tourist amenities had returned to a more essential scale.

 

Returning to the Estuary

 

Eventually the route wove out from the forests and traversed vineyards toward Vilanova de Arousa. Here water again became the defining feature of the landscape, but this time on a much larger scale. The estuary opened around us, shaped by tides, aquaculture, fishing and coastal settlement. Unsurprisingly, birds moved along shorelines and across the waterway.  

 

For the second time on this pilgrimage, we boarded a small boat to traverse the water.  From Vilanova de Arousa we would voyage the Arousa estuary and the Ulla River. For walkers accustomed to measuring days in footsteps, moving along rivers offered an entirely different perspective on the same landscape. Kilometres that would have taken hours to negotiate on foot slipped past more quickly, while islands, mussel platforms, fishing activity and ducks were spotted en route.  Eventually we returned to land and continued toward Santiago, leaving the estuary behind.

 

What We Remember from the Coastal and Espiritual Routes

 

Looking back, the Camino Portugués Coastal and Espiritual routes stand apart from previous pilgrimages and the journeys on either side of them. The Rota Vicentina had given us an exposed Atlantic coastline of cliffs, dunes, sea stacks and deep sand. The Central Camino had carried us inland through landscapes we already knew. North of Porto, however, the route became something else - a pilgrimage through one of the most densely inhabited natural landscapes of our journey.

 

We remember shorebirds feeding beside promenades, Monk Parakeets gathering nest material beside the Douro and Kentish Plovers almost disappearing into pale dunes. We remember Whimbrels on estuary banks, Ocellated Lizards beside the trail, a buzzard struggling into the air with a snake, and tidal flats at A Ramallosa crowded with waders while people harvested shellfish nearby. We remember the green corridor above Vigo, the river approach to Pontevedra, wildflowers returning along the Espiritual and the deeply forested river amid the Way of Stone and Water beneath Armenteira.

 

None of these observations required the route to be remote. In fact, much of what made this Camino interesting was the opposite. Birds, reptiles, insects and vegetation persisted among boardwalks, resorts, ports, roads, agricultural fields, working estuaries and pilgrimage infrastructure. The route repeatedly showed us that nature did not begin when settlements ended, nor did pilgrimage become less meaningful simply because a beach was shared with surfers or tourists.

 

By the time we approached Santiago, the Atlantic was no longer beside us in the same way it had been when we left Lagos on the Rota Vicentina or departed Porto to begin the Coastal and Espiritual routes. Yet even here in our final kilometres on the Camino, nature persisted and birdlife could be found – even in the centre of the increasingly busy holy city.  Proof once more that nature can be found everywhere if you just slow down enough to notice and enjoy it.

 

See you on the Way!