49. Fisterra

As evening fell yesterday, I wandered around the little village of Muxia and eventually ended up back at the headland. It was an idyllic scene. Seagulls were picking on the waters edge, people were strolling or sitting on the rocks, nets were drying, sardines were cooking, and the world seemed at peace.

After such a relaxing evening I thought I’d have slept, but not so. It turns out I had a highly strung Spanish man in the bunk underneath and he appeared to have no real sense of how noisy or disturbing he was - all night! I was awake early and given that it was due to be another hot day I decided I might as well get on the road. The walk out of Muxia was as peaceful as the night before but then I hit the first climb! It was long and unrelenting and by the time I crested the ridge I was a lather of sweat. This final stage is anything but flat, and in the heat and humidity it was sapping. These photos give a sense of the countryside, much of it picturesque, but not of the walking conditions.

By midday, I was drawing close to the township of Fisterra. Just a few more kilometres... and there I was walking along the same road that Sarah and I had walked almost five years ago - 23 October 2013 to be exact. Wow, what a journey it’s been since then! And, same with this camino. I cannot capture it all in words at this stage - the places I’ve walked through, the people I’ve met, the challenges and graces I’ve experienced, the things that bubble away deep within (and I’m not just talking about gastric bugs!). I am grateful for your encouragement, dear reader, your comments on and off the blog have been a constant reminder that I am held in a community when everything else is transitory. Thank you and bless you.

This final stage goes three kilometres beyond the township of Finisterre or Fisterra (in Galego) to the headland, which was understood to be the most western point of Europe - ‘the end of the earth’.

The symbolism of coming to an edge is potent for me. I have just turned 60, I survived my fifties with all the challenge, heartbreak, joy and blessing those years entailed and here I am (literally and metaphorically) at the edge - of the world, of this camino, of a new decade. What will unfold? I do not know. But one thing feels clear, I am ready! 

Actually, as the above photo was being taken a sea mist rolled in. I came on a perfectly clear afternoon to watch the sunset (last time we were here the rain was so heavy we couldn’t see a thing) and instead, more fog!! Ah well, here’s to the ongoing mystery of life... and the way - wherever it may lead.

Buen Camino,

Neils