The last post

This is my last post.

Thank you for following me to the ends of the earth; here is the view from the edge of the world; a glimpse of the unknown.

Cee to Finisterre

There was not a lot to see in Cee. Just a little sea.

Walking on from there though it was lovely to be walking around bays.

This is one of the better breakfast stops I have had.

And being by the sea has its own quirks. My eye was caught by these four cats. On closer investigation found a villager cleaning his catch and throwing a few choice bits there way (though there isn’t much fish left after a Spaniard has had his fill)

When you get to Finisterre there is a tradition that involves four things

Have a bath (meaning taking a dip in the Atlantic!)

Burn your clothes

Make a promise (a personal statement to yourself about the new you)

Have a picnic.

I had already decided that I wouldn’t be staying overnight (rain due) and lighting a bonfire and instead would simply throw things in the rubbish.

Heading into Finisterre there is a 2km stretch of beach with the track along a board walk beside it.

The tide was right for taking the beach route in so the first things to be dumped were my boots.

Next was to find a spot far enough away from people to take a skinny dip (no photos!) and put the clothes I had been wearing into a plastic bag for the next rubbish bin. I was so glad to be shot of airtex shirts. It has been extremely suitable and quick drying but I am ready for some better fabric against my skin now.

I made my promise to myself (no not telling that either) and then walked the rest of the way barefoot and clean into Finisterre village.

First stop was the albergue. I wasn’t going to be staying there but they issue the much coveted Finisterre Compostela.

I put that in my pack, left my pack at the albergue and began the final leg of the journey; to the lighthouse that marks the end of the world.

I still had one piece of paraphernalia to dispose of. The scallop shell that all pilgrims carry on the back of their back pack. It can be discarded on the beach or off the end of the world.

The last thing to do was to take out my tuna empanada and a few mls of wine saved from the previous night and have a picnic at the end of the world. And while I was at it take an appreciative photo of my foot on the edge. I am proud of my feet being in such good shape after what had been a 900km challenge.

Olveiroa to Cee and Muxia

I could have walked straight on through to Finisterre today but I also wanted to see Muxia which would have been another 1 or 2 days walk each way from Finisterre. I knew there was rain due in at the end of the next day so opted to walk just a relatively short 18km into Cee before lunch, check in at the accommodation and then catch the 12.45 bus to Muxia for the afternoon.
After leaving Olveiroa the terrain became pretty barren, stony and with lots of gorse around.

It was a great moment to see the sea for the first time.

Someone took this photo of me standing in front of a part of the path where the path is about to drop steeply down hill. As they took it I kept thinking of what smartarsed thing I could say about being careful not to fall off the edge of the world.

This smart arse had her cumuppenance a couple of minutes later when, walking down the hill I suddenly came a cropper; first time on the Camino and we have walked down worse than this.

I know it was just bad grazing but it bloody hurt like hell and started to swell immediately. But, ‘just a flesh wound’ as the knights in the Life of Brian would say. Being the true pilgrim I marched valiantly on, determined to catch the 12.45 bus.

It was a great thing to do.

Tradition has it that the virgin Mary, sailing in a boat made of stone, arrived at Muxia (pronounced moo she ah) to aid St James in his preaching on the Iberian peninsula. For this reason it became included in the pilgrimage routes since the middle ages.

Negreira to Olveiroa

Today I had had a really good sleep and left at 6.15am. As I walked out of the hotel a local with his stick was just walking by and insisted on walkking with me (it was still dark). He was not going to Finisterre but just on one of his regular walks to A Pena (8km each way). I wasn´t that keen initially on walking with him but he just kept matching my pace and walking silently beside me and after 10mins or so I found I was really enjoying his silent steady companionship. The whole vibe was reminiscent of yesterday - quiet and steady.

I stopped for breakfast and he gave me a hug and turned around. no sooner had I sat down than chatterbox Dave from Sydney arrived and plonked himself down. he it seems was also determined to walk with me and was company of a very different kind. and I found I liked that too. Found out a bit more of his story than when Nell had been with us and as always found when you get people talking authentically about things they care about it is interesting no matter what. he walks blimen fast but I found we matched one another easily and the miles flew by.

About 1km from Olveiroa was an obviously lunch and stopping spot but because he was wnting to get into the only albergue before it got full he wanted to carry on. I stopped and it was a great place. Ended up sitting with 2 English women who were only walking the Santiago Finisterre section during a week off work. It was helpful because they had a bus timetable from Cee to Muxia, and also because they warned me that it was a difficult to get the compostela for Finisterre. You needed to get at least two stamps per day to show you really had walked it as so many people with otherwise full credencials just bus this last piece.

Santiago to Negreira

As I mentioned I was not exactly off to an early start on my pilgrimage to Finisterre. I was wide awake when I got back to the hotel and didn´t go to bed till about 2.30am on the Sunday night.

The bad thing was that it was a very hot walk. The good thing is that there was no-one around and I had the track pretty much to myself. Saw only 4 other walkers all day.

After the mayhem of the previous week from Sarria it was fantastic to be back to silence. The first place I stopped for a break was this tiny little bar surrounded by roses and gladioli and covered on top with vines of grapes and kiwifruit. There was no tinny music, no other back packs, no sound of TV. Just the bar owner sitting quietly nearby reading his paper. Bliss!

I am not sure of the actual deomographics out here but my first impression was the the villages looked a bit more prosperous than many we had seen along the way, including some (ugly) new subdivisions. There was also a continuation of eucaplypt forest. I didn't mention that on the post about going into Santiago because there was too much mist to see properly.

Negreira was nowhereville to me. A place to sleep after a short night the night before, a hot walk, and a long day planned tomorrow.

But apart from mass........

Apart from mass I wandered around a bit looking at things

and meeting up with people I had met along the way. Right after mass for example I found Tony and Shirley the macpackers from NZ just walking into town.

and not long after Trish who I had met back in the Leonie days. (Neither of us had seen her in weeks by the way so not sure if she ever kept going). Trish had had a few problems with her heel and ended up bussing from Burgo to Leon to the hospital there. she is not staying in albergues and herchosen destination in Santiago was the Parador right next to the cathedral. She invited me to meet her and her friend from Sydney (who had only begun in Sahagun) for a drink there at 6. I went at 6 and Trish was just coming out to meet me to advise that we would not be alone. A Scotsman had joined them in the lounge bar.

Turns out any friend of Trish´s was a friend of his and insisted on buying mine as well, explaining he was a Scotsman with a difference.A- he was a Catholic and B - he shouted drinks!

His story was interesting in its own way. A friend had asked him to walk the Camino 18 months ago. He thought what a crap idea. No golf courses, hated walking anyway....why would you bother. His friend explained he wanted to walk with a devout Catholic and Burt explained he wasn´t that bloody devout!

Anyway a few months later his wife got very very ill, on death´s door. they had been married 40 years and he had never spent a night away from her. They asked to have a mass said for her but all the masses were booked for the next wee while and the first date they could get was July 25th. Instead of talking about her at the mass they told all the life of St James (25 July is the feast day of St James) and mentioned the Camino and next year being holy year. He recognised the name his friend had mentioned and made a kind of pact with God. Let her live and I will walk to Santiago.

She lived.

The minimum he could do for it to count was from Sarria so he began there but was damn sure he wasn´t roughing it (which is why he was at the Parador). Said it damn near killed him but he was that damn proud of himself he could't do anything but buy drinks and tell his story to any person who could understand English (or should I say Scottish).

So after a couple of drinks with him we decided to wobble off and meet some French friends of Sinead´s who had a particular restaurant in mind.

Unfortunately the restaurant didn´t even open until 9 so we had to stop for more drinks.... and so it went. In summary - I was not the first one out the door for my walk to Finisterre the next morning..

Mass

Mass in Santiago is a BIG deal.

This photo shows the line up to hug James bust from the doorway back to the van. Then from the van across the back of the photo and around the other side of the cathedral is the queue to get into mass.

I wanted to leave in plenty of time but only just got in. This line behind me was almost certainly turned away.

I managed to wedge myself in beside a pillar in a small side chapel so most photos are taken with my arm in the air not really being able to see what I was taking.

First off there was practising of hymns. This priest was our conductor.

Then there was a long silence as we waited for 12 noon start time. I found this the best time of all. It gave me the opportunity to reflect on all that I had been through and then to allower my mind to linger  on each of my friends and family individually, acknowledging who they were for me and offering up this mass for them. I felt so fortunate to have such a collection of very bright lights in my life so thank you all.

Then all too quickly it was on with the show. In came a veritable army of priests and the service began. You could tell it was a moving experience for all the Catholics that had come from around Spain on their holy year pilgrimages. Even if they hadn't walked the Camino they had driven from all over (other countries too, not just Spain) to be here. Santiago is the third great location for Christian pilgrimage after Jerusalem and Rome because it is the only place other than St Peter's where there is a tomb of an apostle.

The communion was something to behold. The army of priests marched out to all corners of the cathedral so that the thousands of people were processed ery quickly. I would estimate at least 30 communion stations!

And then the benediction. Wow.

None of this hand held thing they use in the Cathedrals and churches in NZ. This thing was a beast and took nine people to control it.

Here it is hanging during the service

Then at benediction they bring it forward.

The easiest way to see what happens from there is to look at this youtube clipsomeone posted a couple of years ago (someone who was in a better spot and in a less crowded mass!) Unreal! People say that it has always been huge because they needed to knock out the smell of stinky pilgrims arriving at mass.

At the end there were a lot of church groups going up and making offerings and singing hymns of various kinds and then the priests and bishop filed out. In all there were 100mins of service not counting waiting time.