End of journey

Yup, it's nearly all over.

I spent the 29th resting in Muxía, at the really rather fun Albergue Dolphin - a Hungarian run Albergue that was nicely relaxed and informal, allowing me as they did to check in at around 09:30 :0)

There were a few fellow pilgrims there, also resting, and opportunities to swap stories and 'compare notes' over the various routes and options taken during the walking.

Overall though I've finished the walking and now have a few days R&R as we make our way slowly back to France.

The morning of the 30th I caught the early bus to Santiago (losing one of my water bottles in the luggage hold of the bus! Must go up to the bus station and see if they have a lost property office) and arrived in Santiago around 09:00. After wandering the streets for a couple of hours I went and checked into the Parador, right next to the cathedral. Nice :0) I could tell that this was going to be an arduous couple of days ;0)

Apart from the utter bliss of sleeping completely free of all those little things one tries to learn to ignore while in dormitories (there's no need for me to itemise them I'm sure), my time has been spent catching up with my good friends while revisiting parts of the cathedral and generally taking things easy. In fact these few days in luxury are proving to be valuable in allowing me to fully rest. While I have felt and still feel so very fit throughout my days on the camino, I also seem to have discovered some deeper level of tiredness (one might call it exhaustion) that has manifested itself in a desire to snooze in the afternoons - most unlike me!

Tomorrow (1st Nov) we're stopping in Santillana at another Parador :0) After that it's the train home from Pau and I should be back indoors chez moi some time on Friday - two months to the day since I left.

I will take time to reflect on the whole experience. In some respects one is rather too bound up in the walking and its associated activities to form any broader vision of the journey, but I know that with the huge number of photos I've taken and my blog as a form of diary, I will sort through the days and weeks and enjoy the many memories of the people and places I've seen.

And at this point it feels like the right time to stop posting. I don't think there's any more needs to be said. It only remains for me to give thanks to all the lovely people I've met since I left home, every one of whom has shown nothing but kindness, support and generosity. I'm looking forward to sharing with the rest of you - my friends - once I get back to the Tarn :0)

28/10/12: Muxía

The journey wouldn't really feel complete without this final extra leg of the journey up the coast to Muxía.

With the clocks adjusted over the weekend I found myself leaving in daylight around 08:00 - much better :0)

The route to Muxía took me back out of Fisterra the way I'd come in, before turning up a hill and out into the countryside. The sun was rising into a clear blue, cloudless sky :0)

I passed small groups of buildings and the occasional chapel. One can't really call these villages although they do have names, albeit those names are hardly ever shown in any form - which can make it difficult keeping track of progress if one doesn't have a map or guidebook. Anyway, I soon found myself out in the relative wilderness of this part of northeastern Galicia, following the asphalt towards my destination.

The camino wound its way up and down hills - in many respects it felt like one of the more challenging sections I've walked in many weeks. I suspect a large part of the 'difficulty' lay in the fact that in knowing this was my final day of walking, my mind and body had begun unwind from the sustained intensity of getting up every day knowing one has to carry a rucksack for 30km. I had mixed feelings about ending my walk. Of course I am looking forward greatly to reprising those things I left behind me almost two months ago, and the chance to see friends and familiar faces once more. But at the same time there ws this new feeling of now being so fit for walking and with an established ability to survive well from what I carry on my back, and thus there seemed so many places still to walk to, still to be seen. Maybe another time?

The sun was warm on my skin but a fresh breeze kept the temperatures down. The camino took me out over two ranges of hills - it felt as if it were all uphill! The views were beautiful everywhere, with glimpses to my left of small deserted beaches, the Atlantic lapping gently on golden sand, the sky clear and blue. Ahead and to my right were views out across the forested hills. For once there were pine and other native species, not yet completely overtaken by the eucalyptus.

I passed quite a number of pilgrims walking in the opposite direction. Many choose to take the bus from Santiago and begin this part of the walk in Muxía, stopping in Fisterra before walking back down to Santiago. I was obviously walking the reverse.

After what had begun to seem like far too long (again, my mindset was different today) and not having any sight of a town of village, the path turned left in the woods and suddenly there before me was the sea and a descent down to the main road. 2km left!

I wandered into the small, pretty coastal village of Muxía shortly after 13:00 and stopped in front of the municipal albergue. This was it - the end of the journey! The hospitalero was a happy, smiling and helpful Spanish girl and she offered me another certificate - this one to say that I'd completed the "Ruta Jacobeo". I rather like this one, it again feels somewhat more personal than the compostela even though I can imagine that these are also issued in their thousands.

By late afternoon the albergue was full, many of the pilgrims I'd seen either yesterday or a few days before. There were hellos and a few hugs, and many people seemed to be catching up on earlier acquaintances.

The only thing I hadn't properly planned for was the fact that today was Sunday. There were no shops open and thus no possibility of adding to the food I was carrying with me (spaghetti, garlic, olive oil). In the end I went out to the restaurant with four others who were kind enough to invite me along. We had an enjoyable evening. Despite it being full moon out on a clear night we were back in the albergue by 22:00 - which is usual lockup time for the municipal albergues. This does have the advantage of preventing 'youths' returning from late night binges and waking everybody up!

Tomorrow is a rest day here before I return to Santiago to stay with my dear friends :0)

27/10/12: Fisterra

I've now seen the sun go down at the end of the world :0)

Let me first rewind a little: I left the albergue in Olveiroa around 09:00. I had quickly realised that one of the advantages of private albergues is that there's none of this chucking out time first thing in the morning. On top of this the owners couldn't have been nicer or more helpful - and all of this for 12 euros! A part of what made my stay enjoyable was going into the kitchen to prepare my dinner and finding a very friendly couple of pilgrims in there - Felipe (Brazilian) and his very lovely German girlfriend - whose name I've forgotten (shame on me). We had a laugh and a chat, which I always enjoy after a day's walking alone.

I packed at a leisurely pace and set off under threatening clouds. I soon put on my waterproofs and it turned out not to be a moment too soon. Nothing too heavy and certainly nothing like the approach to Monte de Gozo the other day, but persistent nonetheless. The cloud was moving quickly so the morning was bursts of rain and dark skies followed by periods of sunshine.

The camino itself was spectacular - that's the word I'd give it. Some lovely changes of scenery, starting with climbing onto the moors and walking west past distant mountains and pine forests. I walked among eucalyptus, which really does seem to have invaded the entire northern coast. The sun came out and I saw rainbows. And then, with no prelude, the sea appeared in the distance. I was getting close. There was a small sign beside the camino directing us to a local point of interest. This turned out to be the Cruceiro do Armada, which has nothing to do with Drake (I later found out) but is simply a nomenclature that reflects the fact that this is the point from which one first sights Cabo Fisterra.

I was really enjoying this day's walk. I agreed with Felipe last night when he remarked that since Santiago everybody seems more relaxed. It's true. Even though I wasn't rushing to Santiago but simply making my way, nevertheless the receipt of the compostela does seem to have drawn a line of sorts under things. Now we are walking for the further fun of it :0)

I passed through the port town of Corcubión, nestling in a bay at the bottom of a fairly steep descent. Not too surprisingly our route took us around the bay and back up and out the other side - another fairly steep climb. The rain came down again - for the final time today.

And then a road sign showed 7km to Fisterra. Nearly there :0)

As I rolled into Fisterra I saw numbers of pilgrims swinging left off the camino to walk into town along the beach. I wasn't in the mood to get sand in my boots (or take them off) so I stayed on the paved path that runs beside the beach. Not too long after I was in the centre of town and looking for the municipal albergue. This turned out to be futile, since it is closed until 15 Nov for repairs! Off I went to find the next albergue and struck lucky just a few hundred metres up the road. I say "struck lucky" because a couple of pilgrims who turned up later said they'd just passed two albergues before this one to find them both completely full. There certainly are a lot of pilgrims about on this part of the coast - especially for the time of year.

After showers and necessaries I dashed round a local supermarket and came back to make myself a couple of sandwiches to tide me over until later. I wasn't thinking in any particular terms about the town and its environs beyond the rather obvious idea that I might want to get down to the place where the coast juts into the Atlantic. This turned out to be at the lighthouse, some 3km away.

I had two options - visit now or visit in the morning. Since the weather was now clear and sunny I felt it better to go now than risk missing it all under a blanket of fog or heavy rain. I set off to walk to the lighthouse.

Call me slow if you like - it took me right until the moments I walked out of the town towards this final outcrop of Cape Finisterre (to give it its anglicised name) to realise that the name is virtually unchanged from its Latin roots in the middle ages Finis Terrae: the end of the earth. This is what, at that time, it was thought to be.

It was while making this walk that I felt, to my surprise, a sense of purpose. It was as if, suddenly, here was a completion of this long walk I've undertaken. Not in Santiago but here, at the end of the land, was a place that felt special and that felt as if I could engage in some personal way. This entire train of thought gave a wonderful sense of completion to things and I arrived on the rocky outcrop (alongside dozens of others) around 15 minutes before sunset.

I sat quietly, looking out to sea and reflecting on many things. It felt special to me for no other reason than we were sitting watching the sun go down. I found out earlier tonight (thanks Wikipedia) that this isn't actually the westernmost part of Europe. That honour belongs to a place in Portugal, which juts a further 16km into the Atlantic. Never mind, this information doesn't at all diminish either my sense of achievement or my experience.

There was a cold wind out on the rocks and once the sun was below the horizon we all headed back - the temperature dropped quickly. Once back in the albergue it was time for food and I cooked up the remaining pasta I've been carrying about (along with olive oil, garlic and sundry other foodstuffs) for the past several days - possibly a week.

Tomorrow is Muxia and the end of my walking. I have the enormous pleasure of some luxury in Santiago to look forward to, and a chance to rest my body for a couple of days, but all the hiking and folllowing trails will come to a stop tomorrow. And while I am looking forward to the parts of life I put on hold when I set out almost two months ago, I think I'm also going to miss all of this. We'll see...

26/10/12: Olveiroa

A restful night in the albergue although it rained most of the night so my washing was still damp in the morning. Hmm - that's a new challenge.

Once again the leaving in the dark... I really must ask someone one of these days why they do this? Either way, I set off just after 08:30 just as it was beginning to get light.

The clouds promised rain but in fact it held off. I was quickly into the countryside again - this stage was even more scenic than yesterday's - and quite a lot of ascending. We were shoved onto the asphalt for most of the remainder of the stage but around here all the road users seem so habituated to pilgrims in the road that there doesn't seem any risk.

Once again I caught all of yesterday's residents - not because I try to but because my natural pace is fairly quick. I was enjoying myself. The weather was good, the birds were signing and the scenery was fabulous. It would be worth traveling to Santiago just to walk these three or four stages.

Somewhere along today's route something changed in me. I'm enjoying these last few days of walking but somewhere inside something was telling me that it was time to go home. I couldn't deny it. As I started to accept this idea I realised that while the walk itself, and all the wonderful people I've met, has been and still is fantastic, I've had enough of being woken in the dark by people dressing, and having to listen to the sounds of strangers in the night (NOT the song by Frank Sinatra!).

As I entered Olveiroa, the starting point for the final two legs of this journey, I decided to upgrade my accommodation to a private albergue. For a few extra euros I get wifi, nice private bathrooms, a bar next door (!!) and a small shop. I need to recharge a little before the next two days and have been enjoying a home made sandwich and a glass of tea. I finally got my washing dry from yesterday so am all set for the final parts of the voyage. It's not yet entirely clear when or how I shall get home again in light of changing my mind like this, but that's a small detail considering :0)

25/10/12: Negreira

My way out of Santiago was simple and quiet. Two streets later I was heading out of the town (city?). The way to Fisterra was marked with the same waypoints and signposts as I've been following all along this route.

I was into the countryside and heading uphill. The sun was out and it was time for a hat! I quickly realised two things. I was now completely relaxed about the walking. No more feeling of needing to get anywhere for anything, despite that I'm heading for Fisterra in three days, following the recommended route. The second thing I realised was that I had, at this precise moment, absolutely not a care in the world. That's a nice feeling :0)

The sun kept up its shining and I put on some music. The several pilgrims I've met who had told me that this part of the camino was the very prettiest of the lot certainly seem to have been right thus far. I was walking into wooded hillsides dotted with small villages. The distances are marked on the waypoints so I was able to adjust my pace (strolling) as necessary.

I passed more pilgrims on my way, many of whom were heading back towards Santiago. The camino here is marked in both directions - which it is not for most of its route, making it difficult for those wanting to travel the return legs. I passed through the village of Ponte Maceira with its 14th century stone bridge a splendid example of a Medieval engineering. The river was wide and flat, and a heron stood in the shallows waiting for an unsuspecting fish.

About an hour or so later I rolled into Negreira. There were signs advertising albergues, pensions and hotels hanging from just about every street lamp available. I was heading for the municipal albergue once more. A little way out of town and, at time of arrival, quite empty, but they are cheap and generally of a good standard.

Not so long after I arrived several of the pilgrims I'd passed turned up, including a very fit American lady who, it turns out, had completed the Camino Frances in 24 days. I commented that this seemed like quick going and she casually replied "yeah well, I ran about half of it". I pointed at her considerable rucksack and she said "yup, it's no problem". I should have noticed the "Iron Man" cap. She was a keen triathlete and competitor and for her this was all something of a walk in the park. I told her that I had both of the Iron Man films but she didn't seem all that impressed ;0) She didn't stay - she decided she needed to do more kilometres.

By around 17:30hrs the twenty places in the albergue had all been taken. Among my fellow travelers I got chatting to a very friendly young couple from Vermont who have just made their Santiago stage and are also now heading for the coast. They invited me for supper which was delicious, despite the fact that it was once more spaghetti. I seem to love pasta - I'm still quite happy to eat either pasta or rice. Fortunately us
europeans like to eat earlier. With about nine Italians in residence the stove (electric) got overworked and  packed up after some smoking and a bright electric flash. That was the end of the cooking. It wouldn't have been quite so bad had the young hospitalero not been quite so cheery when she announced to several hungry pilgrims that "oh well, you'll have to eat salad for tonight". Hmm - let's see her walk 33km and then eat a pepper salad.

I'll be in Fisterra in a couple of days, after which it's a day up to Muxia. After that? Well - I'm pretty much kicking my heels until my dear friends arrive, but knowing the camino - and the fact that the best seems to be last - well, I'm still ready for a few more surprises yet :0)

25/10/12: Santiago

Yup - this was at least one of "the days" to mark my walk.

My day began as I went back into the wonderfully welcoming kitchen to find it already half full. While I was drinking tea others from the night before entered and I was offered yoghurt and bread and some apple. A light but impromptu breakfast and I was ready to head out. Fortunately it was now about 08:45 and light enough for walking. I could clearly see the grey clouds so put on my waterproofs just in case.

As I left the complex (for that's what I then realised it was - a large, sprawling holiday camp with an albergue at one end) I very soon realised that we were already right on the outskirts of Santiago and I was quickly beside the early morning traffic entering the city. Not surprisingly there was a wide dedicated sidewalk beside the road which made the walking both safe and easy. The way was so clearly indicated that it would have been utterly impossible to now get lost. I followed large enamelled signs into the historic centre and about an hour later found myself standing beside the enormous church of Santiago.

There was the matter of the compostela to address but since I was beside the church and since I could see a door open (this was not the main entrance) I decided to go in. I was glad I did actually. I had found myself in two minds about this part of the walk. While I'm quite happy to visit these historic places I had told myself that if I found myself among massive crowds and hundreds of restless pilgrims, my motivation to queue for an hour or more for a compostela might be stretched so thin as to make me decide against it. Upon finding the interior of the church calm and uncrowded (during the morning mass) I was happy to wander around this huge space taking in the sights and the architecture. I confess to somewhat ignoring the signs requesting no photography and quickly realised I was not alone. However I had stopped short of photographing directly down the main aisle (impressive amounts of gilt and a very interesting pair of organs) while the priest delivered the mass - which was not a restraint shown by a number of others with their video cameras and iPhones.

I bumped into a French guy I'd last met in the albergue in Bóo de Pielagos. He had been suffering from tendonitis for the previous four days and thus his journey was ending in Santiago. When he showed me his leg, I instantly understood that this was indeed the complaint I had suffered back near Guemes, despite my belief at the time that it wasn't. Mine recovered in a matter of days and has not troubled me since. This poor guy's lower leg was red, swollen and painful.

I visited the reliquary of St James in its elegant silver casket. It was sheer curiosity, nothing more. Fortunately at this hour the crypt was not busy and apart from a few knelt in prayer there was ample space for a good view. And again, while the temptation to photograph was certainly there, I witheld - out of respect for those in prayer (that included a nun). Once again others felt no such need for restraint and were busy flashing away with their cameras. I found a moment for reflection, not merely about how amazingly selfish some people can be (and disrespectful of culture) but about how and why exactly a sliver box that may or may not contain certain remains could continue to command such devotion and attention. Honouring the dead seems to be a universal human trait and yet - who decides which person shall become more honoured or revered than another? It seem to matter only who we say is in the box and not who actually might or might not be. And in this case it's all based on such flimsy accounts.

Satisfied with my visit to the church I headed out via a different door to find the pilgrim office. A short queue only and I was there. A few questions and a form to fill in (mostly ticking boxes - the church have this sewn up tidily) and viola! I've finally been certified! Oh yes - I know many of you believe I should have been certified years ago ;0) As I was waiting for the assistant to complete the formalities I overheard the American chap next to me being told that sorry, but they were unable to issue a compostela. I wasn't around for the outcome of that particular discussion but I can imagine some would be disappointed.

The sun had come out and I wandered over the road to one of the hundreds of gift shops. In this respect the place was Blackpool by another name, so no prizes for guessing which sorts of items were being duplicated in every gift shop around the square. I bought a cardboard tube for the compostela - might as well prevent it getting screwed up in the back of my rucksack, although it'll probably end up languishing in some dark cupboard for the rest of its life. I bumped into Carmen once more, who had just obtained her compostela too. We said what is most likely our final goodbye with vague utterances about meeting up again in either France or Spain. She's fun and friendly, so maybe we will. Either way, that's the camino for you.

Since I have the enormous luxury of returning to Santiago in just over a week's time and thus a chance to indulge in the history and feel of the place in considerably more comfort, I felt I'd get on my way (especially with the sun out after yesterday's downpour) and leave the tourism for my next visit. I had time to pass through the main square in front of the church and some kind lady offered to take my photo in front of the main doors - so I now have the photo to prove it :0) I headed out of the main square to the sound of bagpipes being played under an arch!

24/10/12: Monte de Gozo

The albergue in Arzúa was fine except for once again lacking any form of kitchen equipment beyond the stove. We went into town both to buy supplies and to borrow a saucepan. Third time lucky - after being told by the lady in the bar opposite the albergue that yes, she received such requests all the time, and that yes she did have some saucepans but that no, she was not at all inclined to lend us one. Charming! There's the future of the camino for you right there. Forget any historical or spiritual (or other) reason except for a commercial one.

Anyway, we gathered together whatever utensils and additional pans we had and still managed to eat well. A certain sense of achievement indeed.

This albergue is on the camino Frances and I was in for a bit of a surprise. Whereas previously we would always respect whoever might be still sleeping in the mornings and thus move quietly about with various lamps or torches, the lights went on at 07:00 sharp! Oh well, might as well get up and pack, despite it being an hour and a half before daybreak.

I ended up sitting in a cafe with Carmen, exchanging contact details while waiting for daylight. We saw numerous pilgrims heading out, still caught in this feverish desire to arrive early at the next albergue despite there being greatly reduced numbers now. I knew that at my own rate of progress I would end up passing them all during the day, and I did.

I was two days from Santiago and I decided that rather than split them into two easier days of around 20km each (and a lot of free time to kill) I would get close to Santiago today and leave myself a short stage tomorrow, allowing me to arrive early before (hopefully) the madness began.

The day was overcast and cloudy. I passed the first couple of hours looking at the sky, hoping it wouldn't rain. I finally had to concede the possibility as it turned very dark and I stopped in an underpass to don waterproofs. Shortly afterwards it began to rain gently but steadily.

I was making my usual good progress and I confess that it all felt very relaxed. There was no need to rush. I had been passing pilgrims all morning - it was certainly much busier on this part of the camino but certainly not the hundreds and hundreds per day that one finds in high season. Much repetition of "buen camino" and lots of smiles. It really does help, especially when the weather looks a bit miserable.

The camino was gentle with lots of forest and unpaved sections, which always make a pleasant change from the hundreds of kilometres of asphalt I've been walking on these past few weeks.

A short while later, just as the rain got heavier, the skies opened and an absolute deluge began. A side wind whipped up and it seemed that this somewhat exceptional weather had found the limits of my waterpoofing. Water began to seep into my boots and into the zipped seams of my overtrousers. Nothing drastic but water all the same. The 30 euro poncho appeared to be doing its job :0)

I continued walking as the rain got heavier and couldn't help noticing the bars crowded with waiting pilgrims. Oh well - I was out in it now, no point in stopping.

The rain eased off after about 30 minutes, only to return again later - shortly before I arrived at my chosen destination of Monte de Gozo (Mount of Joy).

This is an albergue with 400 beds, just 6km short of Santiago. I was curious to see just what such a large albergue looked like. I was surprised (pleasantly as it turned out) to discover that they achieved this through three large, purpose built shelters each with its own showers and kitchens. I was glad I'd made the 33km today and a chance to relax now. The one thing the place lacked was clothes washing facilities. I wasn't about to pay to use machines.

By late afternoon there were something like 70 pilgrims in the place - certainly enough to ensure that the kitchen was the busiest place in the building. I spent time there drinking tea and chatting with the various bodies. In my room was an English guy (ex Navy) and I met an English girl in the kitchen. Apart from a fairly brief chat with an English woman in the albergue in Bilbao these were the first English pilgrims I have met in almost eight weeks! One always hears about them but somehow I seemed to have not yet met any. The kitchen inhabitants included an Argentinian (looking like the young Rasputin), two Slovaks, a Latvian, several Spaniards, two Germans, some French people and yours truly. A lively mix and I realised at this moment that by trying to close down the kitchens in other albergues, they are essentially shutting down the heart of the albergue. The kitchen is the preferred place to chat, to share food and information and to generally swap tales of the camino. I spent my entire evening in the kitchen, eventually retiring to bed around 22:30. The hospitalero kindly exercised considerable flexibility in allowing us to all carry on enjoying ourselves and making the most of this very well equipped albergue.