Barro

The scallop shell way-markers appear before the village sign. That's your first clue Barro isn't quite like other Galician municipalities. While coaches head for the coast, the Portuguese Way of St James cuts through these inland parishes, meaning hikers with rucksacks often outnumber day-trippers on any given morning.

Barro sits fifteen kilometres north-east of the Ría de Pontevedra, close enough for the Atlantic to dictate the menu but too far for sea views. What you get instead is a patchwork of smallholdings, granite churches and stone granaries scattered across four parishes: Coiro, Salcedo, Barro itself and Carballal. There's no postcard centre, just lanes that dip and climb between vegetable plots and plots of Albariño vines.

Walking Without the Crowds

The Camino Portugués enters from the south-west on a mix of dirt track and quiet tarmac. Even if you're not hiking the full 260 km from Lisbon, you can piggy-back on the route for a circular morning walk. Park near the church of San Xoán in Coiro, follow the yellow arrows past vineyards and eucalyptus until the path meets the PO-308, then loop back via Salcedo. Total distance: 6 km. Total elevation gain: 90 m – enough to warm the legs but manageable in trainers.

If that sounds too gentle, head east to the Barosa River Nature Park, technically in neighbouring Portas but signed from Barro village in under ten minutes by car. Seventeen restored water mills line a short ravine where the river forms natural rock slides and knee-deep pools. British families who've discovered the spot rave about it on TripAdvisor: "toddler-proof wild swimming" is one recurring phrase. Arrive before 11:00 or the thirty-space car park closes its barrier. Water shoes are essential; the granite is slimy and there isn't a grain of sand in sight.

Granite, Grapes and Grain Stores

Barro's architecture is functional rather than grand. The eleventh-century core of San Xoán de Coiro was enlarged in the sixteenth century and whitewashed again last year, so the Romanesque portal looks freshly scrubbed. The key holder lives opposite; ring the bell and she'll unlock it for no fee, though a euro in the donation box won't go amiss. Inside you'll find a single nave, baroque altarpiece and the faint smell of extinguished candles – village worship, not cathedral theatre.

Outside, turn your attention to the hórreos, the raised grain stores designed to keep mice out. None are sign-posted; the pleasure is spotting them in gardens, beside the road or backing onto vineyards. Most date from the late 1800s, built from local granite with slate roofs and cruciform vents. The best ensemble stands at a crossroads south of Salcedo: two hórreos, a stone cross and a modern postbox, all within five metres. It sums up rural Galicia rather neatly – faith, food and bureaucracy in one frame.

What You're Actually Eating

Proximity to the coast means octopus appears on every menu, but Barro's inland price is two euros less than the seaside mark-up. At O Pote in Coiro, pulpo a feira comes sliced on a wooden board, sprinkled with pimentón and served with cachelos – small potatoes cooked in their skins. If tentacles feel a step too far, order patatas con pulpo: the same flavours converted into a comforting stew. Vegetarians aren't forgotten; caldo gallego, a broth of greens and potatoes, is served year-round and costs under four euros a bowl.

Wine lists are short and local. Albariño dominates, light enough for a lunchtime glass yet aromatic enough to remind you you're not in Rioja. A bottle in a village bar runs between twelve and fifteen euros, roughly half the London mark-up for the same producer.

When the Weather Doesn't Play Ball

Galicia's reputation for rain is earned honestly; Barro's green fields depend on it. Showers arrive quickly, turning dirt lanes into sticky mud that lives up to the village's name. Waterproof boots are sensible from October through April; in August trainers suffice, though you'll still want a jacket for Atlantic fronts that sweep in during late afternoon.

Summer has its own caveat. Barro lacks the sea breeze that cools coastal towns, so mid-afternoon temperatures can nudge 34 °C. Plan any walking for early morning or evening; siesta time really is a thing here, with bars closing between 16:00 and 19:00.

How Long Do You Really Need?

A diligent walker can cover the main parishes in two hours. Add another ninety minutes for the Barosa mills if you've got wheels. That leaves time for lunch, but probably not enough to fill a full day unless you're using Barro as a base. Many visitors bed down in Pontevedra, ten minutes west on the AG-41, and drop in for the morning. There's no hotel in the municipality itself; rural tourism houses advertise on Galician websites, typically sixty euros a night for a two-bedroom cottage, minimum stay two nights.

Cash remains king. The last ATM stands in Caldas de Reis, eight kilometres away, and both village bars prefer notes to cards. Fill your wallet before you arrive or prepare to drive for your money.

The Upshot

Barro won't suit travellers who need a checklist of sights or an evening bar crawl. What it offers is an unfiltered slice of working Galicia: small vineyards, village churches and the steady tramp of passing pilgrims. Treat it as a breather between the coast and Santiago, bring footwear you don't mind ruining, and you'll understand why the guidebooks leave it out – and why that might be exactly what you wanted.