Day 36, Saturday May 18: Cee a Finisterre, including to the lighthouse + back to Finisterre (21.56 km, 13.4 miles)
No reason to drag this one out, to withhold details, paint the scene, set the stage. No. This day was, as have been so many others, a joy to walk. The pines, the eucalyptus, the blooms still dripping with… with dew or with some rain I slept through in the early hours, I couldn’t say which.
But there was, on all our parts, I think, a sense of “urgency,” of “let’s get this thing done. We’ve come to arrive at the end of the world, so let’s not dilly dally about it.”
Only about 14 kilometers into the town of Finisterre itself. Up the hills and down them again, only to climb once more. An “are we there yet?” attitude. Glimpses of water, bay water, from time to time. Smells that reminded me of California here, northern Minnesota or Wisconsin there, Oregon–coast and mountains–from time to time. The animal and barn smells were gone, and in their place: really fresh air, scented blooms, and the sea.
We woke up to a much-improved forecast, but should have learned by now not to put any faith in forecasts. Alas, the unexpected rain arrived… but then departed; the clouds seemed to want to settle in between the hills… but then they thought better of it, too. So… I just continued to alternate rain jacket and winter coat. Vest on; vest off. Ditto the fleece cap. All articles of clothing extremely handy as they were either on my body or on my back.
Though I set out with neither Cristina nor Jeannie (now that I know how to spell her name, I suppose I should do so; it’s Jinhee…, but it was, after all, from her that I learned how to pronounce it: “like Aladdin’s lamp and the ‘genie’ that came out of it,” she had told me), we seemed to catch up with one another at various points, and we arrived at our albergue within minutes of one another, about 11:00. I’ve not actually had the experience of arriving before albergue’s are officially opened. This place, besides giving us a fantastic view of Finisterre’s bay–fantastic, anyway, for the 12 euros that we are paying–was very accommodating, allowing us to leave our backpacks in a locker or at least leave some of its contacts in the locker.
Because… we still had another 4 kilometers, a gradual uphill, before we would arrive at “the end of the world.” And we needed to stop at a panadería to pick up the day’s loaf. (And wait until you see a photo of what I chose….)
Other than stopping to catch a photo of the coastline or to remove/add clothing, we made pretty quick work of the climb. And then! Ah, and then, got photos of ourselves relaxing and celebrating at the end of the world. In almost full sun!
Precious! Dramatic! And the sign in town that reminded me that “the real Camino starts at the end”? Spot on!
Everything after our hike out to “the end of the world” was anticlimactic: the quick walk back down to Finisterre, the shower, connecting to the internet. Even the delicious pizza dinner with Jinhee and Cristina took a back seat, seeming of little consequence after having reached the lighthouse and the renowned spit of peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic. Yes, “the real Camino starts at the end,” and, as well, “it’s not over until it’s over”….
And so… I’ll begin tomorrow… with a walk! I’ll do a relaxing two-segment (as in “two-day”) walk to Muxía which I hear is a real gem. Another one for the strong box which will hold so many memorable places for me. When my memory fails me, the photos and these blog posts will be great supplements. As well, I might have to hire a security guard to protect my treasure box of memories. They deserve the best!