Day 4: a bridge, wind, salt flats and my dad with a weather app

Because we spent the night in Cádiz right next to the bridge connecting the city to Puerto Real, cars were flying past us all night long. Apparently, this is where young people come after dark to test just how far the right foot can go on the gas pedal. Honestly? For me, that sound was pure ear balm. Instead of waking me up, it lulled me to sleep. Everyone has their own lullaby.

In the morning, we were greeted by sunshine. Real, living sunshine. The kind that gives you a false sense of security — that everything will be fine and that choosing the south of Spain was absolutely the right decision.

That day was scheduled for a solo walk to Puerto Real, completing the first two stages of the Camino Augusta, which begins right in the center of Cádiz.

I still had 6 km to reach the official starting point, which meant another stroll along the promenade. And what a morning it was.

Life everywhere: – surfers waiting for waves,

– skaters casually defying gravity,

– teenagers warming up for beach handball,

– beach cleaners doing heroic work,

– runners zooming past me like it was Olympic open day.

I, too, was in an Olympic mood and even ran part of the way. How could I not be? The sea, salt in the air, life buzzing all around. The sun did soon clock out, but the only way to stay warm was to keep moving. That morning, I was optimistic and decided to leave my gloves and hat behind. Naturally. Because optimism is an essential part of training. And also, I wanted to get back into shape.

CAMINO AUGUSTA: CÁDIZ – PUERTO REAL

(cloudy, windy, and surprisingly quiet in the head)

The Camino Augusta doesn't start with great fanfare. No trumpets, no crowds, no "holy beginning" feeling. Just a cloudy sky, Atlantic wind, and Cádiz letting you go with a quiet message: walk — but don't rush.

The first stage toward San Fernando is gentle. Walking along the sea, crossing the bridge, with wind that rearranges both your thoughts and your hairstyle at the same time. Cloudy weather here is almost a blessing — no sun drama, no pressure. Just steps, rhythm, and the sea beside you. The body doesn't complain yet, and the mind stays pleasantly silent. An ideal introduction.

The second stage toward Puerto Real quickly reveals the true character of the Camino Augusta. The city disappears, and the flatlands begin. Salt flats, marshes, open space, and a path so straight it feels like you're walking along a thought line. This isn't Instagram scenery — this is territory for inner conversations. And there are plenty of those.

The wind is constantly present — not annoying, just persistent. Like a reminder that you're outside, on the road, alone with yourself. The cloudy sky keeps the temperature just right, allowing you to walk without fighting your own body. On the Camino, that's luxury.

When I reached the finish in Puerto Real, my parents were already there. After cycling 50 km. And both of them in full ice-cube mode. Red faces, stiff hands, and that look that says: "This is no longer enjoyable."

I was freshly walked and warm; they were deeply chilled. Perfect family synchronization.

And just when I thought we might have at least one calm evening, my dad shocked me again with a new plan.

Tomorrow: Málaga.

Why? Because apparently it's not warm enough here for cycling.

Tonight's stop: Jerez de la Frontera.

That's when I fully realized one thing:

I must not leave my dad alone with his phone for more than one minute.

A weather app + Google Maps + his determination = a complete life reorganization.

Personally, this combination of stages suited me perfectly. No drama, no extremes, no need to prove anything. The walking was steady, the mind calm, the body cooperative. This is my kind of Camino. The kind that doesn't try to break you on day one, but gently invites you in.

The Camino Augusta doesn't begin spectacularly.

It begins honestly.

And sometimes… it ends with an unplanned relocation to another part of Andalusia.