Santiago!

Section V: Galicia

October 19-24

O Cebreiro to Santiago, over 500 miles total

I awoke to the faint scent of smoke. It didn’t seem alarming at first until I stepped out into the dark and a woman hurried past me. She told me she had just come from a wildfire -- it was growing -- and I should start walking and not stop for 10 km. No taxis at that hour. The Camino following a narrow dirt path, winding upward toward a tiny mountain village.

Folks, I panicked. I was told later that my hands were shaking.

I asked a group of fellow peregrinos what to do. Australians who, with wildfires stitched into their DNA, were entirely unfazed. While it felt like I was walking through molasses, I scurried up the rest of the mountain determined that this was not going to be how I go out, especially since my mom had already informed me she would not finish the Camino in my stead to avenge my death.

When I finally reached O Cebreiro, I was relieved to run into the local police. They assured me the wildfire was under control and too far away to pose any risk.

And that’s how I arrived in Galicia. The final stretch.

The official start of Galicia

The weather up until this point had been uncharacteristically perfect so I was due for a change. After the wildfire scare, the heavens opened up and the rain came bearing down along with gusty winds. At one point, I opted for the road because I was afraid that I was going to be blown off the side of the mountain.

Galicia is lush and green. Its terrain feels like a remix of everything that came before with steep hills, cows and sheep, vineyards and wheat fields. A veritable postcard of the Camino’s greatest hits.

Cows

Horses

One night I opted for a different albergue from my travelmates (I essentially stayed in a treehouse) and the next morning, two paths diverged. They chose the one I was not already on which was significantly longer, so by the end of the day, I was half a day ahead. And now I was truly alone and feeling it.

But the Camino always provides.

I started bumping into people I hadn’t seen since Week 1 — warm little reunions when I needed them most. Because even if you’re by yourself, you’re still never alone. There were a couple that stood out. The first was Joe, an Australian who frankly, rubbed me the wrong way when I met him the first (and second and third) time. He was loud with no filter. Part of my growth journey is finding some piece of humanity to love in everyone; especially those who I would traditionally avoid. Or to think of it in another way, the fewer people who annoy us, the happier we'll be. By the end of Week 1, I had found enough in him that I didn't run away when I saw him, but I knew that wasn't good enough. By Week 4, we started crossing paths again and kept trying to find time to walk together but it didn't happen. After I parted ways with the last crew, I was walking by myself in the forest for quite a while when someone came up next to me. We turned our heads to wish the other a "Buen Camino" and ahhh! it was Joe! The Camino gods decided it was finally our time and we walked for several hours. He is, of course, a very sweet man and taught me a lot about gratitude and offered a new definition of friendship (people who are unconditionally happy when good things happen for you). I was sad when we parted ways because I knew it would likely be the last time we would see each other.

When Camino worlds collide: Joe (back) and I stopped at a donativo oasis and ran into Allison and Jeremy (chair and banana), who I had been crossing paths with both on the road and in albergues for several days.

The next best moment occurred when I ran into Glenn at a cafe. Glenn was one of the first people I met and I taught him how to play gin rummy. He’s 77 years old and was outpacing all of us so I was shocked that I had caught up with him. After a couple hours, we decided to stop for breakfast #2 and sitting at the very first table was Christine, who I sat next to at dinner the first night. The Camino is funny about weaving people together. 

The night before Santiago was full of anticipation

The three of us traveled together for the next couple of days until it was finally time to arrive in Santiago. I left early and made it to the Cathedral by 9:30, received my Compostela (and nearly had a meltdown because they insisted on issuing it to “Abigail Volin”), and walked around town. I went to the noon Pilgrim’s mass and was fortunate to witness the botafumeiro swinging high across the Cathedral dispersing incense (originally to mask the smell of the peregrinos). 

The final shell

Afterwards, someone grabbed a table at a nearby watering hole as familiar faces from Day 1 and Week 1 slowly began to appear and laughter was plentiful. It was the perfect way to celebrate a long journey.

And then, in true Camino fashion, the 20-somethings and the 70-somethings alike ran off to get their shell tattoos.

But even with all the celebration, something still felt unfinished. I hadn’t come here for a religious pilgrimage. And while I appreciated every church and cathedral along the way, they didn’t spark anything spiritual in me for obvious reasons. I knew there was still another part of my journey ahead. So I slipped away early that night, resting up for the long days to come.