Fisterra

We were so excited for the sunrise, setting out from Cee for Finisterre. The forecast was rain and more rain across the region; for more than a week, it hadn’t changed. What a gift to walk in the sunshine — today of all days!

We trekked out by way of the harbor and old city. Lovely, with sunshine glinting off the water; we’d no idea! Winding through narrow cobbled streets, we saw the pretty side of Cee. Before long we’d climbed well above the harbor. We know to look back now, to admire the view and appreciate progress.

We expected to trek about 8 miles and get a good workout. After frustrations of the storm, we were ready for the challenge: a lot of steep uphill, plenty of downhill, with little flat terrain. Trekking notes weren’t wrong, except for distance!

We trekked woodland trails, super-saturated and mushy from the storm; sometimes alongside roadways, cutting cross-lots on the peninsula. Road crossings were the most hazardous part!

In our experience, Spanish drivers don’t slow much, if at all, for a trekker. When they think we’re in the wrong place, they let us know. BEEEEEP! When we were out one night, some Spanish ladies gave the beepers a tongue-lashing. I didn’t understand a word but chimed in, “Si! Muchas gracious!” The ladies broke up into laughter.

I must say, old ladies in Spain and Portugal have been some of my most delightful encounters. So often we’ve passed under a window where she sits, or a stoop she sweeps. If the window is open, perhaps she’s hanging a few items to air dry, we greet each other. Even if just an exchange of smiles, it always warms my heart.

Today we encountered an old lady with a dog on the trail. She carried a big bundle of lacy-light greens she’d collected trailside; maybe herbs. Of the two, she was more spry, well ahead of the old boy trailing behind. She paused for him to catch up and wished us a good day on The Way.

When the woodlands opened to a glimpse of blue we knew we’d reached the perimeter of the peninsula. We could hear surf crashing long before it came into full view. The northwest coat of Galicia is known as Costa de Morte because it’s rocky and fierce, causing many shipwrecks.

Finisterre was a beautiful sight, clinging to the distant cove. The trail led us closer and closer to the sea. We could’ve walked the beach for a while but kept to the beautiful blue flagstones. I’ve never seen such gorgeous slate.

We stopped off at a cafe on the beach, believing our destination close at hand. Surveying the landscape over lunch, however, something was off.

We could almost see our hotel from here. Yet to complete Camino Finisterre, we must trek to the lighthouse … waaaaaay up and over, on the precipice of that next peninsula. Trekking mileage didn’t jive with reality! (I.e On map above, beyond blue line, to reach camera icon.)

As it turned out, those last miles were the hardest, one long continuous climb. Of course, we didn’t want it to be easy; we intended to earn it. No doubt we did, with one last drenching rainstorm before the lighthouse came into view.

Oh, the glorious vistas at the end of the earth! We could see clearly over Galicia, from whence we’d come. Windmills popped up on the horizon like clothespins on the line.

At the top is mile marker “KM 0,000” meaning, the end. It was surreal to grab hold of that pillar and consider: we did it! We.Did.It. So grateful to God, who is faithful to the end of the earth.

The skies cleared in perfect time to enjoy our moment in the sun. The Hubs sat on a rock and enjoyed the seascape. I poked around, taking pictures of The Hubs, a herd of sweet little mountain goats, the famous bronze boot. By then, I’d moved off to the other side of the rockface, out of his view.

Suddenly, I lost my footing and with full pack on, tumbled backwards! A Spanish couple saw me fall, or perhaps heard the thud, and rushed to my aid. I was scraped up a bit but more frazzled than hurt. Grateful I didn’t roll off the end of the earth!

Thus the Hubs’ leisurely viewing session came to a premature close. We made our way back up to the lighthouse, and settled in for a celebratory brew with amazing views. After that, a bit of shopping (a really little bit) and taxi transport to the hotel. You gotta’ know when to call it, eh? Between his foot and my knee, plus the tumble, the trek downhill held no appeal.

Little did we know we had more adventure in store. There are two or three Hotel Rusticos in Finisterre. I gave the cabbie the wrong address; we landed at the wrong one. He was gone before we knew it. We set out on foot, hobbling along a back road, to bridge the gap.

Nearly every yard has some sort of fence and gate. We passed by one chainlink fence as aggressive barking ensued. Suddenly, he was RIGHT THERE — barking and snarling and on the verge of leaping through a big hole! This German shepherd had clearly made many attempts to devour Pilgrims!

We both jumped; I screamed and the Hubs grabbed my hand. The hole wasn’t quite big enough, yet — he pulled back; then that black terror charged across the yard! I remembered what my sister said about taking authority with dogs. I yelled at him to STAND DOWN, in Jesus’ name!

When we reached the end of the yard he was waiting; elevated, a few feet above ground level. No fence! He stood as if ready to charge, but he was quiet. A lady in a window above was looking out at all of us. The beast didn’t move.

Maybe there was a look between them, a silent command, or an electric fence; maybe not. This isn’t the first time, it won’t be the last, I’ve called on that name in trouble. I can tell you stories! There’s power in the name of Jesus.

After checking in, we hobbled down to the visitor center in the small market square to submit Credencials for another Compostela. It was a small shop, one diligent clerk checking each Pilgrim.

She gave the man ahead of us a hard time for not collecting a stamp at the lighthouse. Even in Spanish, I could sort that much out. In rapid-fire response (I couldn’t follow) ultimately he convinced her he’d done the work. It’s a beautiful document. I was glad we’d taken the time.

We meandered around town, enjoying the picturesque harbor. Devoured our dinners: comfort food — espaguetis a la boloñesa and lasaña a la boloñesa — hungry Pilgrims! That night we slept like babies.

In an unexpectedly sweet ending on this chapter, Sandy from Australia and Eamon from Ireland were staying at our hotel. We’d crossed paths on and off on the Camino Finisterre, and made an immediate connection with both. It was nice to have more time to chat. Hopefully the end of the earth is only the beginning of new friendships.

Hold hope. Keep faith. Walk your walk.

~ Sincerely, Sondra