Coming down the final embankment toward the Miño River, it is a great relief to see the beautiful bridge leading into Portomarín. After the long descent, the town feels like a welcome resting place—but it is not quite what it first appears to be.
Unlike many of the aging towns along the Camino, Portomarín is relatively new. The original town once stood below, beside an ancient river crossing that became especially important during the Middle Ages. Pilgrims walking the Camino Francés depended on its bridge to cross the Miño on their way to Santiago de Compostela, approximately 60 miles farther west.
With its bridge, churches, pilgrim facilities, homes, and riverside economy, Portomarín grew into one of the Camino’s most important communities.
Why Portomarín Had to Move
During the 1950s and early 1960s, Spain embarked on an ambitious program of hydroelectric development. One of its largest projects was the Belesar Dam, built across the Miño River.
The dam would generate electricity, but the resulting reservoir would also submerge Portomarín and other communities along the river. Authorities constructed a replacement town on higher ground, and residents were relocated from their old homes into the new development.
Most of the original town was left behind. When the reservoir is low, traces of its streets, foundations, and old bridge can still emerge from the water—a reminder that the town below has not entirely disappeared.
Moving a Church Stone by Stone
Although most ordinary buildings were abandoned, several of Portomarín’s most important monuments were saved. Workers carefully dismantled them, carried the pieces uphill, and reconstructed them in the new town.
The most remarkable example is the Romanesque Church of San Xoán, also known as San Nicolás. Built in the late twelfth or early thirteenth century, the church was associated with the Knights Hospitaller of Saint John of Jerusalem.
It looks as much like a fortress as a place of worship. Its thick walls, towers, battlements, narrow openings, and rose window reflect the order’s role in protecting the river crossing and caring for pilgrims traveling toward Santiago.
Before the church was taken apart, each stone was numbered so it could be returned to its proper place. Many of those markings are still visible today. The numbered stones make the building feel almost like an enormous puzzle—one that connects the new Portomarín to the town buried beneath the reservoir.
A new community was built on the hill, but carefully chosen pieces of the old one were carried upward with it.
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