Days 24 – 38
I take back everything I said about
Leon, it's rubbish.
After walking through Leon for about 4
hours, I found myself exactly where I entered the city the day
before. Very, very depressing.
I ended up where I planned on going to
that day at about 9pm.
This escapade did have some fortunate
side effects however, as I met several friends I had not seen for
some time, and there was much rejoicing.
I walked into town during the middle of
some sort of fiesta, which was initially exciting but ultimately
annoying as the music went all night and kept me awake.
The following day, while walking, I ran
into two English guys I had not seen in weeks, and a Canadian girl
they were walking with, and I walked with them for the rest of the
Camino.
We decided that it would be very
intelligent to sleep outside one night, and set up camp in a field
opposite the albergue in a town. It was very, very, very, very cold.
And wet.
I was fine, but my two English friends
(Tom and James) became ill (the Canadian girl, Lisa, wisely decided
to stay inside). The next few days were quite slow progress-wise, as
people got over their various sicknesses, but by the start of August
we were back on track.
It was during these slow days that we
reached the Cruz de Ferro, a stone cross at the highest point along
the entire Camino Frances. Traditionally, pilgrims take a stone from
somewhere along their journey to this point. The legend is that, if
you tell your worries and problems to your stone and then throw it
down at the Cruz de Ferro, it will bear them for you for all
eternity.
I brought a stone from Nice, but when I
arrived at the summit it occurred to me that I didn't really have any
problems, so I kept my stone instead as a reminder of this happy
time.
On the 1st of August, we
woke late to the sound of thunder and rain, but after a breakfast of
hamburger we braved the weather and continued through the mountains
separating Castilla y Leon from Galicia. My leg was starting to ache
from the constant incline, and upon seeing an albergue appear out of
the storm in La Faba we decided to stay there for the night instead
of continuing up the mountain as we had planned. This proved to be a
good decision, as this was one of the most amazing nights of the
trip.
The word “hippy” does not begin to
describe this place. There was a tee-pee in the back garden, huge
numbers of ridiculous instruments scattered everywhere, home-made
jewellery, incense, a hole in the ground for a toilet, and the
hospitalero was totally insane. At about 8pm, he rode off on a
sad-looking horse that had been standing in the rain since we
arrived, which was worrying because he had promised us dinner and
there was nowhere else in the town to eat. Three hours later, he
returned, from the opposite direction, in a car, totally high and
with a lot of weed to share.
We never heard what exactly transpired
in those three hours but it was no doubt very exciting. Nobody knows
what happened to the horse.
Dinner consisted of cheese and
lettuce, and just as we were finishing eating (about midnight),
suddenly a man holding a puppy in each hand appeared out of the
continuing storm and mist. It didn't take long to realise that this
was one of the people we had met at Granon weeks ago. He was very
happy to see us all, and I was happy to see him because he was an
incredible individual.
His mother had given him a train ticket
to St. Jean to start the Camino because she 'wanted to see him happy
again'. He had no money whatsoever, had adopted four stray puppies he
found along the way (two met with unfortunate ends. One drowned in a
foot pool overnight, and another was found by the police and put
down), and survived purely by scavenging and charity. He would
sometimes work at places, such as donativos or farms, but only for
food and accommodation, he refused to accept money.
Moving on... the last 5 days of the
Camino proved somewhat horrific. To attain a Compostella (certificate
of achievement, atonement from sin) you must walk at least 100km to
Santiago. As such, the last 100km is PACKED with people. I spent the
last five nights sleeping on concrete gym floors because there was no
room in the albergues. Sometimes there was not even room in the
gym...
On the last day before Santiago, we
decided to wake at 4am and walk in the dark and watch the sunrise as
we neared our goal. Unfortunately it was quite cloudy so the sunrise
was diminished somewhat, but it was still very exciting, and walking
without the swarms of people was a welcome break. We arrived at
Santiago at 10am that day, and queued for several hours before
finally receiving our Compostellas. We decided to celebrate by
staying in a pension rather than sleeping on the streets, and I slept
very well.
Today was my first rest day of the
entire trip, and it has been very strange to be... still.
Too strange.
Tomorrow, the walking will begin again,
as I am going to Finisterra, another 90-odd km onwards.
Days 39-42
Onward onward to the end of the
Earth...
My three friends who I have been
walking with all had flights on the 13th of August, so we
had just two days to get to Finisterra. We walked only 35km on the
first day, leaving a huge 56km on the second.
The walk to Finisterra proved a far
superior way to end the journey than Santiago – gone were the
swarms of tourists, crowded paths, overflowing albergues and
expensive restaurants. It was the real camino once more.
The last day of walking proved to be
truly magical. We set off before dawn, and watched the sun rise over
beautiful Galicia as we walked. It was once again a warm day, after a
week of cold weather, which made walking while clothes exceptionally
difficult. So we walked in our underwear.
By 6pm we were exhausted, having walked
just 40km, with 16 left to go. The task seemed impossible, but we had
motivation – the last glimpse of the sun in all of Europe for the
day. And so we struggled on as the sun made its way across the sky,
and soon saw beautiful Finisterra in the distance.
With aching feet, tired bones and
hungry stomachs we clambered into town. No time to visit the
albergue, no time to take a rest. We went as fast as we could towards
the western beach, the last piece of Europe.
We arrived, just as the sky began to
turn orange. We threw down our bags and took off our shoes, and
though we were exhausted we ran to the deep blue sea and plunged
ourselves in as the light faded.
We got out very quickly, because it was
ridiculously cold, and sat back on the beach to watch the rest of the
sunset before lighting a mighty fire. It is a tradition for pilgrims
to burn some of their clothes at Finisterra, and so I burned my socks
(the same socks I had been wearing for the past 39 days. They were
never going to be clean again anyway).
Then, we decided to burn some insect
repellent, and there was a mighty explosion. That was pretty
amazingly cool, so we burned some athletes foot spray and deodorant
as well. It was like a fireworks display.
As our fire faded, Tom played the
ukulele as we all sat back, drinking our rum and whisky and eating
cheap cookies we had bought earlier that day, and stared at the sky.
By pure coincidence, the 11th of August just happens to be
the single best day of the year for viewing shooting stars from
Europe, as it is during the annual Perseid Meteor Shower. We saw some
absolutely stunning ones, with tails stretching all the way across
the sky. As I said, it was truly a magical end to the Camino. We
slept on the beach, and in the morning we had toast.
