Our bus to Santiago from Muxia didn’t leave until 2:45. This gave us the morning to further explore Muxia. The weather was nice today. After breakfast of Sally’s delicious potato soup, we walked downtown, then over to the northern shore and sat to watch the surf pound. It was quite windy and the surf put on a good show. We walked out to the point again, then back to our albergue where we cooked lunch. We had purchased some “boob” cheese. I sliced it up for use in Santiago. Because we were flying from Santiago to Madrid I would have to give up my €3 pocket knife and would not be able to slice things anymore. We walked down to near the bus stop about 1:00 and just sat by the quay for the next hour and a half enjoying the sun and talking. D’Anne came by to say goodbye about 2:15.
We boarded the bus, paid the driver as we did, and found seats where we could watch the scenery roll by on the drive back. The drive was uneventful, and soon we were back in the bus station at Santiago. A quick walk and we were back at Hospeja Mera again. This time we got the other room. It was ont he back side of the building and hide a sizable deck with a table and chairs. We ate cheese sandwiches before heading into town. We had a mission to accomplish. The SIMM card in my phone only lasted 28 days and those had expired yesterday. There was an Orange store on the other side of town. We walked there to renew the card. When we got to the store, they said to renew it we needed to go to a supermarket and pay, then bring the receipt to them and their tech guy would get me hooked up. This was a head scratcher. But, we did as we were told and the clerk at the market acted like this was a normal thing, took our money and gave us a receipt. Back at the Orange store the tech dude was busy with someone else, so I stood for half an hour waiting my turn. To quote Indigo Montoya, “I hate waiting!” Sally went shopping while I impatiently waited. Finally, I finished, then I had to wait anther 10 minutes for Sally to return.
By now it was 6:45pm. We were now on a mission to find gifts for Cindy for her birthday and for John, just because. I found a cool gift for Andy right off, and Sally got lucky for Cindy. John’s took a while, but we finally found an establishment willing to part with the desired item and all was secured.
We made one last walk to the square in front of the cathedral, met a couple from Moscow, took their picture, then headed out to search for a beer for Sally. We wandered through about 4 places, but none felt right, so we settled for a pop from the grocery store across the street and called it a night.
We slept in this morning. The municipal albergue wants everyone out by 8:00 am. That is when we woke up. We didn’t rush to pack as the manager didn’t seem bothered by our presence. About 8:30 we headed ou the door and downtown to a restaurant. Christina from Germany was as tardy as we were and joined us at a cafe to while away a few hours before we could move into our next albergue. We had a breakfast of eggs and bacon while we chatted. Juergen joined us after an hour, wandering in from another albergue. During our talks we learned he was a police officer in Hamburg.
About 11:00 we found our way to Bella Muxía, our home for the next two nights. The weather forecast was particularly bad with heavy rain and high winds coming in the afternoon. We felt the first drops of rain as we entered the building. We had reserved a private room for two nights, hoping to relax and be lazy. That is exactly what we did.
The storm arrived as advertised. Sheets of rain driven by the wind on this tiny exposed peninsula on the Atlantic.
We put on our rain gear about 1:30 and staggered through the rain and wind to the grocery store and stocked up for a few days stay.
Cabin fever and a strong desire to experience the storm had me don my rain gear and sandal and walk to the end of the peninsula. I found what I was looking for; a fierce wind pelting me with rain, huge Atlantic waves pounding the rocks and a stone church anchored to the point of rock like a mussel clinging to the seabed.
Back in the room and hour later I marveled at the effectiveness of my rain gear at keeping me dry. Sally and I had a repeat dinner from last night.
On the 25th we again slept in, had yogurt with added granola. Yum. The sun was supposed to show they today, so we headed out after breakfast, walking the town and returning to the church on the point. As we walked downtown, Danny from Barcelona waved us in to the restaurant he was having lunch at. We had a coke and a beer and sat talking for nearly two hours. In that time D’Anne from Dallas texted that she was in town. We invited her to join us and soon she was sharing her “pulpo” and drinking red wine. We agreed to have a celebratory dinner that night and made reservations for 8, when the restaurant reopened. We walked town and returned to the albergue where Sally Andre two batches of potato soup, one for lunch and one for tomorrow mornings breakfast.
On our way out to dinner I realized I had left my phone in the room. When I ran back in to get it, I recognized Sophie sitting in the reception area. We had not seen her since La Faba. I went back to the street to get Sally so she could say hi as well. Sophie has been in the hospital for four days with food poisoning or stomach flu, but was well now.
We were a tiny bit late to the restaurant to meet D’Anne. We had a meal of seafood. Excellent. Danny joined us about 9:15. We broke up about 10:30, saying our goodbyes, although Danny was riding the same afternoon bus as us the next day. Danny is an actor and does commercials. Check out this one: https://youtu.be/kKhdxz2WsAE
Two great rest day/dodge the weather days!!
Kitchen in our albergue
Church right on the point
Selfie with Muxía behind. This is on the sheltered side.
It is amazing what an effect weather has on a trip, especially when the trip is focused on being outdoors. When hiking or climbing, there is no escape from the weather, be it sunny and hot or stormy and cold, you are in it and have to deal with it. On this Camino, the weather is again an issue, but each night is a reprieve from dealing with it. During the day while walking it assaults or caresses you. You can hide from it temporarily by stopping in at a cafe, but to progress forward you have to encounter it. At night, enclosed in an albergue, the weather can do its worst, or best and you are ignorant of it. That can be viewed as good or bad, depending on the experiences you are seeking.
Up until a few days ago, the weather has been mostly dry; sunny skies, low humidity and gentle winds. As we approached Santiago and entered the region known as Galicia, the humidity has risen and just yesterday clouds covered the sky in that Seattlesk slate grey of winter. The most noticeable effect was on our laundry. It doesn’t dry. Wash it in the evening, hang it up and it is still wet in the morning. No room in the air for the moisture to leave the cloth and become airborne. Everything has become “clammy”.
As told in yesterday’s blog, it poured rain all morning long. We hid in a bus and then albergue until it passed then walked to visit the “end of the earth”. The forecast today was for intermittent light rain during the morning followed by sunnier skies between 10 and 3, then a chance of rain again. But, the forecast for Monday was not good at all, especially after 11 in the morning when the rain and wind were forecast to visit us in full force. We decided we would try to dodge the rain and hike the whole 18 miles to Muxia on Sunday to avoid getting caught in Mondays storm. We could suffer a little rain this morning if the sun were to shine later.
I woke at 4:30 this morning to the sound of water spilling out of gutters and splattering on the cobblestone streets. “Well, only one morning of walking in the rain. We can do that.” I thought. I dozed until my alarm woke me at 5, then slipped out of my upper bunk and woke Sally. We snuck into the common area, ate breakfast and finished packing. I stuck my head out the door to check on the weather. Did we need to start out in our rain gear? I didn’t hear any sign of rain.
We slipped out the door and started walking north through town. The street was wet and puddles abounded, but a look skyward showed the waning half moon and stars. Could we be this lucky?
We followed the beach on a nice slate paved walkway for nearly a mile, then turned off the beach and followed roads, heading north toward Muxía. The moon and stars continued to show. It was warm, in the low 60s. We packed our fleece and enjoyed our windy, but warm walk in the dark.
As the sun began to light the eastern horizon we could see the sky was totally clear. That was unexpected! The way was mostly single lane roads, some paved, some gravel through forests and fields. It was beautiful. We did not see another person for the first three hours, something that had never happened on the Camino before. During the whole of this time we could hear the crashing of the ocean on shore, first behind us back in Finisterra, then to our left as we paralleled the coast, inland less than a mile. The way had two moderate hills to climb across our 17 mile distance
Sally had purchased two real Pepsis in Finisterra yesterday at the grocery store. She knew today we would not be passing any cafes or stores, so she planned to have me carry one for a mid morning caffeine hit. Being kind, I put it in the freezer when I woke up so it would be icy cold when she got around to drinking it later in the morning. Being stupid, I walked out the door and forgot it in the freezer. When she found out, she was very disappointed. Luckily, we passed a sawmill operation at about mile 4 this morning and the owner had a Coke machine out for his workers. Two euros and we had two bottles of coke to energize our morning stroll.
Windmills have been visible everyday of these past 4 weeks and today was no exception, accept whereas before they were off in the distance, today we walked very near them, close enough to hear the sound peculiar to them.
We came to the town of Lires at mile 8 and found the albergue/cafe. We stopped in for a Coke and a potty break, although we both wished we had asked for hot tea. We got up to leave and headed out of town, finding a stone picnic table on the outskirts. We stopped to eat some bread and cheese, nectarines and bananas. We started out again. About 150’ up the road Sally realized she had forgotten her walking sticks at the cafe back in town. I offered to run back and get them, but she reasoned she would just leave them. She would have to leave them in Santiago anyway, because she couldn’t board the airplane with them and she wasn’t really using them that much anyway.
We started to see a few more people, passing us and coming the other way. That was a first. People walk from Finisterra to Muxia and Muxia to Finisterra.
At the top of the last rise we were in heather with the windmills towering above us. We stopped for a few minutes to sit and have a few crackers, then we started down the slope to the seashore and the mile flat walk into Muxía.
We found the municipal albergue on the other side of the peninsula and registered. It was a concrete building, reminiscent of the Huxley buildings on the Western Campus. Lots of wasted space.
We had shipped Sally’s pack to this albergue, but I had gotten a call earlier in the day from the transport company while walking that said they had dropped it off at one of the local businesses. While Sally rested, I hiked down to the waterfront and found my pack.
The kitchen downstairs was spartan, no refrigerator, few dishes or utensils, but enough for us to cook and eat some soup. With dinner done, we headed down to town and entered the same cafe Sally’s pack was at. In there we met Mike and Judy. We had met Judy earlier, but this was the first time we met Mike. Sally and Judy hit it off and Mike and I talked for the next 90 minutes, ranging from literature, writing, economics, climbing, hiking, Free Solo, favorite books and more. We finally headed out the door to walk the waterfront quay. We got 300 feet down the shoreline where a bus was unloading and saw Jergen getting off the bus. What?!? It is so strange to be in a foreign country and yet run into people you know at every turn. We chatted for a minute, then he had to run to check in to his albergue. We returned to ours, and settled into bed.
Chuck enjoys his yogurt before stepping out into the dark morning to walk
Sally travels the streets of Finisterra with the aid of her headlamp
The stone pillars mark the way
Chuck satiates Sally’s caffeine needs at the Coke machine
The way passed near many amazing and nearly uninhabited beaches
Through forests
Lunch in Lires, about 8 miles from Finisterra
The stone buildings for keeping maize dry are held up with stone mushrooms.
Up amongst the windmills and heather. Very windy.
A beautiful beach about a mile from Muxia.
Sometimes the “way” is no more than the shoulder of what looks like a very busy highway. 4 cars passed us in half an hour. Pretty safe walking.
For the most part, we are done walking. Our built in extra days are too few to allow us to walk to Finisterre, but too many to just sit on our butts waiting for our flight to Madrid on Thursday. We ran into a similar fortunate situation when we biked the length of the Rhine in 2015. It is hard to know how fast you will move, what delays might occur and what circumstances you will meet along the way. You build in extra day “just in case”.
Today, we are off to Finisterra by bus, will spend a night after seeing the town, then hike to Muxia (pronounce moo-she-a - the Galcianians pronounce the “x” as “sh”- and “c” as “th”) tomorrow.
We slept in a bit today, waking at 6:30am and starting our walk to the bus station about 7:30am. Our bus to Finisterra is at 9:00am and we wanted to arrive early enough to get our tickets and leave a little time to overcome any obstacles that might arrive. Our walk to the bus station was about 15-20 minutes. The pavement shone wet in the street lights. It had be raining during the night, but spared us during our walk. The bus station was open, but not the ticket booth or the cafe. As we walked in we saw a man’s face light up in a smile as we glanced his direction. It was one of those moments when you are not sure if he is looking at you or someone behind you. He rose and walked to us exclaiming “Chuck and Sally”; it was us he was looking at. It took a moment to recognize Milan of Serbia whom we had met a couple days before. He is a very sweet man and we exchanged greeting and found he was on the bus to Finisterra as well. We left him to seek out the bathroom and a meal at the cafe, now that it had opened.
We purchased our tickets when the booth opened at abut 8:15am and wandered downstairs to the bus platforms. There were a number of people millling around, wondering which of the 20 slots our bus would pull into. Milan was still in the waiting room.
Our bus turned out to be a two story bus with huge windows for viewing. We knew the route was along the coast for much of the way, we plotted to get an upper seat on the left side of the bus for optimal viewing. Sally would enter the bus first while I loaded our packs in the storage space underneath, then join her inside in the seat she saved for me. Since it was a double decker bus, the only luggage area was over the rear wheels. By the time I got to it, it appeared full and I had to stuff my pack in by pushing others aside. I got both our packs in, then went back to enter the bus and was the last person to board. Sally had two seats on the left side up top. Perfect.
The bus was super comfortable and only about 1/3 full. The ride did not disappoint. The first part was through town and the countryside, then the road hugged the winding shoreline for an hour and a half. The view would have been spectacular, but the heavy rain was streaking our window, obscuring the view a little bit. Even the streaking and the mist outside could not hide a spectacular shoreline. Sally slept the first half hour until I woke her to see the ocean view. I wrote yesterday’s blog entry as we rode along. It is the first blog of the trip I have written with my thumbs on my phone, rather than using the keyboard. I read through it when done and noticed more errors than normal.
We arrived in Fisterra in the pouring rain. Our rain gear was in the pack under the bus. A crowd stood outside the storage area trying to get to their packs which were now a jumbled and topsy turvy mess. It took a few minutes standing there to get my turn at the pile, and I extracted both our packs. We scurried under the small covered area and put our rain gear on. There were a lot of people (25-25) standing around, some waiting for the bus, others waiting for the albergue to open. Our albergue was up the road a few blocks. We shouldered our packs and headed up the street. We noticed a large grocery store (large by comparison to what we had been shopping in, smaller than Toledo’s Red Apple) and a bakery. We stopped in and saw what looked like apple pie. We bought two pieces and ate them while walking to the albergue. Oh man, they were spectacular!
We arrived at the alburgue. It was downstairs and quite small. Two sleeping rooms with 8 bunk beds in each and a small room that served as registration, common room and kitchen. There were also two bathrooms and three showers.
Once registered and assigned bunks, we headed down the street to the grocery store, stopping on the way at a restaurant for a couple hamburgers.
The grocery store had more vegetables than we had seen. We bought two carrots, a box of mushrooms and a leek for our soup tonight.
We returned to the albergue and each took naps until 3:30pm. The rain had stopped and the sun was out. Yahoo!! We walked to the true “end of the earth”, 2 miles out to the end of the point where the lighthouse is and FaceTimed Robby and family from there. We walked back and sat on the beach for a few minutes enjoying the nice, cool weather, then went inside to cook dinner.
During our cooking and eating Milan came in and we got into a discussion of Serbia and the US influence in the world, especially Serbia. Milan was excited that Donald Trump had gotten elected. He called Hillary Clinton “the pure essence of evil”. We asked him why. He was in Kosovo when President Clinton bombed Kosovo, holding his young kids and trying to calm them as the bombs rained down. That’s a pretty good reason to hate the Clintons. He said that Serbia can do nothing economically that is not approved by the US or face retaliation. He was very emphatic about his political views, yet was open to hearing another point of view. He thought Trump’s wall was a great idea to keep the immigrants out. He hated the immigrants and wanted all immigration to stop. He was convinced the Muslims were sending only their men in an attempt to infiltrate Europe for an eventual takeover of the continent. He often exclaimed he was not a racist and would then say he did not want blacks coming to Europe from Africa and Muslims from Arabia.
It was getting late, 9:20ish, so we ended our interesting discussion, packed our gear for morning, stuffing Sally’s pack with the things we would not need during our walk for shipping, and climbed into our bunks. Sally turned the lights off about 9:40pm after asking the 3 other people in the room if that was okay. They all liked the idea. 3 minutes later a woman walked in, turned on the light, asked if 10:00 was the time for the quiet to begin and sat on her bunk writing a postcard. I was amazed at her rudeness. 5 people in bed with the lights out. She walks in, turns them on, tells us lights out at 10 and then does something that could be done in the common room. Despite the lights, I fell asleep and woke 40 minutes later to see that they were off. Ahh, life in the albergue . . .
Ran in as we get off the bus in Finisterra.
Sally and our “ride” from Santiago. Fisterra is a bigger town than we expected.
Registering for our bunks in Albergue Ara Solis in Finisterra
A statue of a wind swept pilgrim on our hike to the lighthouse at the end of the earth. Lots of clouds now, but no rain on the walk out.
At the “End of the Earth”. Before the earth was perceived as round, sailing west of here was sailing off the edge of the earth. Notice the distance on the marker.
Selfie at the end of the earth.
We are never alone. We ran into Ren as we walked back into town. We walked with her two weeks ago. How can we be in Spain and be surrounded by friends? It is a small world after all!
Access to the beach from our albergue. Narrow street! No danger of getting hit by a car.
Sally picks a couple of rocks to bring home to Bob from the End of the Earth
Finisterra, the town, as seen from above.
The “End of the Earth” with Finisterra seen in the background.
Bunks in our albergue. We had sheets and blankets and towels. I guess that is why it was 12€ instead of the usual 6€.
When we laid out our plans to do this hike in the beginning of August we looked on the web and found that the walk is divided into “stages”, with one stage per day. I’m still not sure of the rational for the stages other than them seem to be about 10 to 15 miles a day and make each night in a town of some size. These towns have sprouted abundant albergues, cafes and restaurants to support the throngs of pilgrims trekking through. We adopted the stages as advertised and stayed with them most of the time, although some were too long for our tastes (19.5 miles). We divided theses longer stages up into smaller, bite sized chunks to fit our needs, sleeping in some of the smaller, but no less comfortable villages.
Drawing on our PCT experiences, we gave ourselves 6 or 7 extra days to be spent on zero days, injury healing days or sightseeing days. However, since we usually finished walking by noon or one, we got ample rest in the afternoons to power us through the following day. Plus, it is awkward to take a zero. Unless you get a more expensive private room, you must vacate the albergues by eight in the morning and are not allowed in until noon or sometimes as late as two. These circumstances caused us to end our trip with 6 extra days upon reaching Santiago. One of those days, today, is to be spent resting.
We woke up at about 8:00am lounges in bed reading the news on our phones and generally enjoying doing nothing. While Sally was in showering I checked my email, noticing a reminder from AirB&B about our upcoming stay in Madrid. I also noticed another email from AirB&B sent about an hour later informing us our reservation for Madrid had been cancelled. What? It went on to say they were really sorry and they would give us $36 to ease our pain.
I told Sally of our plight when she returned from the shower. A mild panic ensued for the next hour as we searched for four nights accommodations in Madrid. With only a week’s notice, all the less expensive places were booked. Our $75.00 a night place now lost couldnonly be replaced by $350 a night places. Not in our budget. Calling a few places confirmed the lack of rooms. hmmmmm . . .
Sally, ever resourceful, turned to Rick Steve’s guide to Spain. In it, he mentioned a “hole in the wall” quaint place right on the Plaza Mayor. He ranks his room with dollar signs to give a clue as to their relative price, $$$, $$, $ or ¢. This one was a ¢. He cautioned that the owners, an elderly couple, only spoke Spanish. What the heck, I’ll give it a shot. I called and expressed my need “Yo necessito un reserva para dos personese para Septembre Viente seis a treinta.” The woman on the other end started asking me questions I could not answer. I apologized, hung up and sought out the lady who ran our hotel. She was next door cleaning a room. She knew enough English to understand our plight and called for us. They did indeed have a room for the nights we needed and she got them reserved. Woohoo! Problem solved. Only thing we don’t know is how much do they cost? Also, how dirty, cramped and smelly are they. We are trusting to Rick Steves for four decent nights. We will know in a week.
It was now nearing 11:00 and we were ready to get back on the streets. First stop. Catholic Mass for the pilgrims at noon. It is usually held in the big Cathedral, but with the renovation clogging the interior, it is moved to the Iglesia San Francisco, directly below our room about a block. We knew to arrive a half hour early if we wanted a seat, so we arrived at the door at 11:30. I had my pack with me, lunch water and rain coats inside. A security guard manned the door. No packs allowed. For a pilgrims mass? A mass for people that just walked 100’s of miles with a pack on their back, no packs? Sally went inside to get us a seat near the back. I walked back up the hill to our room, left the pack and walked back down. I was seated by 11:40. We close the last pew in the back so we could indiscreetly leave early. While waiting we reconnected with two Irish ladies we had been sharing the way with.
By noon the church was packed. All the pews were full, 14 people to a row, 25 rows. Another 100-200 were standing in the back or on the sides. The organ played, mass started, people chanted and we got up to leave. We snapped a few photos before we left.
Back up to the room to grab the pack, then over to the bus station, a 20 minute walk away, to check on bus tickets to Fisterra tomorrow. We joked and laughed with the lady at the info window and found we did not need advanced tickets, we could buy them tomorrow morning right here at the station.
On our way back we took another route that led us to the Camino, the same route we took yesterday into the plaza. It was fun to walk it again and watch the anticipation on the people’s faces walking it for the first time. We stopped at many of those souvenir shops we passed yesterday, Sally on the prowl for a few trinkets.
We had a lunch of crackers, cheese and a banana, seated on the stone benches on the side of the cathedral. I went inside to check out the holy door now that I had read a description of it.
We returned to the Italian restaurant of yesterday for a shared dinner of Spaghetti. Sally has been texting Dana during the day and arranged to have drinks with them after dinner. I had been texting with Annamarie about the same. Annamarie had invited us to dinner with some friends but we declined, telling her we would join them during their meal for a few minutes.
As we completed our meal, Sally texted Dana we would meet them in 5 minutes in the main plaza. We probably took 15 to pay the check and walk. On the walk we passed Annamarie and Colton busking on a street corner and stopped to say hi, then on our way again. We found John and Dana waiting for us.
We had a nice time chatting with Dana and John over wine and soda. The ladies decided to seek out Colton and ask for a song. We hoped he was still busking. We walked to the corner where we last saw him, but he was gone. We returned to the square for a group photo. As we walked to the middle of the square, there stood Colton, all alone. He was waiting for Annamarie, who was late.
We asked for a song and Colton happily removed his guitar from its case and sang for us as we sat on the cobblestones of the square. After his song he packed up and headed for where he thought the girls might be. We walked with Dana and Hohn back through the tunnel and up the stairs. We were stopped in our tracks by a beautiful acapella voice echoing from the tunnel. This beautiful voice had replaced the bagpipes. We stood and listened for a few minutes, then continued on. We parted with John and Dana and returned to our room for the night.
We had wondered how many people we would see today. Did all the people walking with us leave, or did some stay on. Turns out most have left, but we still saw at least 20 people we knew. What a great day!
Today is the day we walked into Santiago and to the cathedral that holds the remains of Saint James. As Sally and I walked the last 11 miles, we talked about the significance of our walk. We enjoyed the first 240 miles immensely. We met new people each day, and were surrounded by friends we met on previous days. The number of people was not overwhelming, and we felt we had a chance to say hello and introduce ourselves to nearly everyone we met. The route took us through the Meseta, the flat farm country that stretches from Burgos over 100 miles to Astorga. It was exciting to hike through a landscape I had not visited before. From Astorga we entered the “mountains”, the hills of western Spain. Here again, the route was new and interesting.
Once we reached Sarria, the 100Km distance run to Santiago, the crowds grew in size 5 fold or more. It became overwhelming. You could not begin to meet all the people, let alone remember names or get to know them. We still had our circle of acquaintances, but now we were surrounded by crowds of unknowns. We both felt like lemmings marching to the sea instead of two people out for an adventure.
However, our friends did not feel the same. They were emotionally touched by their arrival to Santiago and the cathedral. D’Anne described doing a Facebook live recording of her arrival and having to stop recording and wipe her eyes and steady her voice, overcome with the emotion of the moment. She had walked 500 miles with this as her goal and she had done it and done it well. Between the thrill of accomplishing her physical goal and the spiritual aspect of performing a pilgrimage that has been followed for over a 1000 years, she was emotionally overrun. What a wonderful thing!!
Talking with other friends, they too felt a powerful significance to their accomplishment on all levels. And looking around the plaza in front of the church where hundreds and hundreds of pilgrims high fived, knelt in prayer, snapped photos and selfies, hugged, raised their backpacks above their heads in triumph and sung celebratory songs we could see many, many shared this moment of joy.
So how did Sally and I fit into this spectrum? I can’t speak for Sally. For myself I can say it was a hoot to walk down the final ancient cobblestone street, lined with souvenir shops, through the tunnel where the bagpiper plays and into the square where hundreds gathered. I have finished many, many hikes and a few much longer in distance than this one. But, I have never had a hike where the ending was so profound. Usually, you end up at a dusty trailhead in the middle of nowhere, get in a car and drive home. Here we had bagpipes, a huge plaza, a massive cathedral, a certificate of completion and 1000’s of people celebrating. That is one heck of a trailhead!!
These past 22 days have been great. Great scenery. Great walking. Great people. Great experiences. I am so glad we came here and did this. Would I do it again? Not the same section, but I feel that way about any long trail. I don’t want to repeat trails. I like the experience of seeing country for the first time, not knowing what is up ahead and discovering as I go. I would come back and hike the first part of the “way” that we skipped, St. Jean in France to Burgos, about 150 miles. Or walk one of the other Camino’s, such as the Portugal or Northern or the Primitive. But my first love is wilderness walking on a trail carrying my supplies. Walking from cafe to cafe is fun and I would enjoy doing it again, but given the option of wilderness vs Camino . . . .
We were up and out a few minutes before 6. We snuck out of the sleeping room where 12 others slept and moved to the kitchen, hoping not to disturb anyone. When we got to the kitchen, we found a man sleeping on one of the couches. What? We tried to stay quiet, but 4 or 5 other people soon joined us and the combined noise did not wake the sleeper as his snoring indicated. Breakfast of yogurt, crackers and cheese then taping sally’s toes and we were on our way.
It was strange this morning. We walked nearly half an hour without seeing another person. We expected the trail to be crowded with pilgrims anxious to reach Santiago, but apparently all the anxious ones spent the night closer to Santiago so they could arrive there earlier. About 7:00 we started to get overtaken with people, their headlamps lighting up the trail behind us. It didn’t get light enough to turn off the headlamps until about 8:10. By this time we were in a steady stream of people flowing toward the cathedral square. We stepped out of the flow now and then to get a treat at a way side cafe. As we approached the first cafe we saw D’Anne enjoying a pastry and beverage and we stopped in to sit a minute and say good morning. We got up and left before she finished, but 20 minutes later she passed us; being the speed walker she is. We stopped at a campground along the route and sat with Nancy and Maggie from Ireland for a bit, enjoying a Coke as they had tea and a pastry.
The landscape was changing. We were now in suburbia, walking by houses and such. We crested a hill to find a monument to John Paul II commemorating his visit to Santiago and a first glimpse of the city below, about 2.8 miles distant. From this point on we were in the city-house lined streets and then into the business district complete with traffic, crosswalks, stop lights and freeway overpasses. Pilgrims in front as far as you could see and pilgrims behind as far as you could see.
Eventually, we left the business district of the newer part of the town and entered the old part of town. The buildings were now stone, the streets stone. As the streets narrowed, the mass of pilgrims consolidated, not the shoulder to shoulder press of a mob, but close quarters nonetheless. A group of about 8 kids in front of us decided to walk the last distance barefoot and were carrying their shoes. The road started to slope downhill past many souvenir shops and the faint strains of bag pipe music could be heard in the distance. We had been walking the last 3/4 mile with Bridget of Germany, blocky woman with a hearty laugh that we had seen everyday, four or five times a day, for the past week. She was with us as we entered the square on the back side of the cathedral. We stopped for a photo, the bagpipes sounding louder, then walked down the sloping, cobblestone street under the arc where the bagpiper played, his sound echoing off the stones. The sound made me think of Robert Service’s poem about an enthusiastic bagpiper called, “How MacPhearson Held the Floor”. Through the arch and around the corner and we were in the plaza in front of the church. We were here!
We spent a little time in front of the church, then quickly scurried down the steep street and to the right to get our number to get us in line to get our Compostela. We followed a steady line of backpack laden souls into a building, down some stairs and into a room where a woman stood in front of a machine, pushing its button at each pilgrims request that caused the machine to print and eject a numbered ticket. The tickets could be held under a smartphone camera. Doing so launched a website showing which number you had and what number they were on. We were numbers 886 and 887. They were seeing number 358. At about 100 interviews an hour, we had about 5 hours to wait to get our certificates of completion.
Back up to the plaza for photos. While there we saw nearly everyone we had been hiking with. It was hard to fathom that they were all coming in within a few hours of us. Eventually, after many photos and lots of hugging, smiles and goodbyes, we found our way to Hospedale Mera. We checked in and crashed on the bed for a minute to rest, then got up to shower. Cleaned up, we headed out to tour the cathedral and then go for a late lunch. We knew we were having dinner with D’Anne, Regina and Sandy, but it wasn’t until 7:00pm.
We felt like Chevy Chase in “Vacation”. We had walked all the way across Spain to the Cathedral in Santiago and it was closed!! Well, not completely, but there was major renovations going on and the inside was filled with scaffolding. Still we could get in and see part of the inside. The highlight was seeing the holy door that is only opened on Holy Years (2021 is the next holy year). We also go to walk up through the alter where we could hug the statue of St. James and then travel down into the crypt and see his silver coffin(?). If interested, google St. James for his whole story. After our walk through the cathedral, we stopped at a gift shop, then headed up the street to an Italian Restaurant for pizza, something we were both hungry for.
I always am surprised at the serendipity that happens on the PCT, but this next event rivals the PCTs best. As we sat there, on a side street 4 blocks from the cathedral square finishing our pizza who should walk by but Ferrari! We met Ferrari our first day on the “way”, just outside Burgos. As we walked in the dark we heard someone’s rapid clicking of walking sticks coming up behind us. It was two fairly short older men briskly walking and overtaking us. One spoke very broken English and said his amigo walked very quickly, like a Ferrari, even though he was 69 years old. We quickly applied our PCT training and named him Ferrari. We asked his name and he said he was slow, like a Renault. This started the friendship between us and Renault and Ferrari. We saw them every morning as they passed us in the pre dawn light, and we laughed at their names and our good fortune in see each other everyday. Well, we had not seen them for about 2 weeks. We knew they had moved ahead of us and we lamented seeing them again. And here was Ferrari walking past our table! We shouted “Ferrari!!” He immediately turned, his face turning into a broad, delighted grin and came to our table. We stood to embrace him. With my very poor Spanish and his totally absent English a 20 minute conversation ensued. Believe it or not, we communicated. We typed our names, phone numbers and addresses into each other’s phones, used WhatsApp to test messages back and forth, hugged and again parted company. What fun!
We had to hustle to the Compostela office to get our certificates. My phone showed they were on number 820. Earlier, I had noticed the phone app was usually 20 or so behind the actual number, so we scurried to the office to find they were indeed on about 830. Waiting in the hallway for our number to come up we were surrounded by the people we had walked with. Michael and his wife from Ireland, Nancy and Maggie from Ireland, and about a dozen others that we cannot recall their names. While we watched the numbers slowly count up to ours we talked about the trip, each other’s homes and plans after the trip. Sally had number 885. I had 886. 884 came up. Sally got ready to go and 886 showed up first. In I went, wondering what was going to happen. Would they question my faith, my devotion, my beliefs? Would I have to answer ecclesiastical questions? I walked to my appointed point at the counter, handed over my number and my Credential.
The credential is the pamphlet each pilgrim must carry with them to be admitted to an albergue. At each one your credential is stamped and dated. Most businesses and all cathedrals along the route can also stamp your credential. You must have two separate stamps per day during the last 100 kilometers.
The woman seated at desk carefully scanned my credential, inspecting dates and names on the stamps. Finally, she grabbed a blank certificate and filled it out with my name. No questions. No quizzes. I asked if I could have the distance certificate as well, certifying how far I had walked. She said yes and filled that one out as well. I paid my 3€ for the distance certificate, 3€ for Sally’s and 2€ for a tube to help them survive until we got home and exited the building. It was now 6:15. We had enough time to walk to our room, leave our stuff and head for dinner.
We arrived at the plaza in front of the cathedral to meet D’Anne, Regina and Sandy for dinner. We found D’Anne waiting. Regina and Sandy showed up a few minutes later. We headed up the restaurant filled street, looking for a place that suited us, jabbering and sharing stories of the “way”. We had a great dinner, each ordering something different off the menu and sharing it family style. During dinner Anna Marie (from Denmark) showed up out of nowhere to say hi and 5 minutes later Jen (from Germany) appeared and stayed, eating his dinner with us. About 9:30pm we moved across the street to a bar where D’Anne bought shots of something for everyone. Then it was time to break our fellowship. With promises to stay in touch we gave our last hugs and each went our ways. What a way to end a hike!!
The way
Red chair
Santiago in the background
The crowd
The crowd gets bigger
Crossing the freeway. Something ancient pilgrims did not have to encounter
Through the city the pilgrims walk
Entering the old city
Getting close to the cathedral
Behind the cathedral
Through the tunnel
Bagpipes as you enter pass through the tunnel on your way to the plaza
The plaza in front of the church
Down to get the number for our Compostela
Numbered ticket machine
Happy pilgrims with their numbered tickets
Erika and Japanese girl entering plaza
Us and the cathedral
Inside the cathedral
Saint James tomb
Ferrari!
Sally Nancy, Maggie and ?? Wait for their number to come up
