The End of the World (And This Journey)

Finisterre
October 25-27
Santiago to Finisterre, another 55 miles

Finisterre is a quaint seaside town known as the end of the world with a lighthouse perched above the Atlantic and a marker for kilometer 0. It's a place where the sun sinks directly into the ocean. I knew that this was where I wanted to finish this journey.

Time, however, wasn’t on my side. What is usually a four-day walk, I needed to complete in three. So I pushed -- fueled by Andrew’s vitamins and pluck. By the final morning, my body was protesting loudly. New blisters. Shin splints brewing. Joints aching. Holes forming in my shoes. I found myself negotiating with my body: Just one more day, I promised, and then you can rest. I thanked my shoes profusely for getting me this far.

Halloween is big in Spain

These structures were used to hold grain

My last early morning hike

10 miles with no services

My heart leapt when I finally saw the sea on the third day and I knew that I made the right choice to finish my journey here. I checked into an albergue and, in perfect Camino fashion, the first people I saw were Mi and Eric. After dropping off my pack, I made the last 3 km trek to the lighthouse (where I ran into Joe!) and then headed over to the West side to watch the sun drop into the ocean.

Kilometer 0 and lighthouse

Sunset

Sunrise at Km 0. Photo credit: Mi Jang

The next morning, I found a cafe near the bus stop for breakfast before heading back to Santiago. Tables were full, but a man I had been weaving with over the last few days motioned for me to sit with him. He had just finished his ninth Camino -- this one beginning all the way back in April when he walked out his front door in Germany. We talked about what keeps calling him back: clearing the mind, healing the body, and connection to the divine spirit.

I asked him the hard question: How do you bring Camino back with you; how do you integrate it into your life? And he had a beautiful answer. He said he imagines the spirit of the Camino like a bell with the sound reminding him of everything he learned and who he is out here. When he can no longer hear the bell ringing, it simply means it’s time for the next Camino.

He told me that he bought a few bells at a souvenir shop and handed them out to people; most of who were grateful but bewildered by the gift. I excused myself to go to the restroom and when I returned, he said, “I didn't know who I was going to give my last bell to, and here you are.” Then he handed me a bell and, with my eyes glistening, I smiled, gave him an hug, and boarded the bus back to Santiago with the bell in hand.