Farewell Santiago

When I was at Fisterra I met an Irish pilgrim who turned out to be a priest. As we chatted, it emerged that he was on sabbatical and concluding it by walking the Camino. He had just celebrated his 54th birthday and was about to celebrate the 30th anniversary of his ordination to the priesthood. I asked him if he was doing anything special for that and he  told me that he had been invited to celebrate the mass in English in a chapel of the cathedral on Tuesday. He seemed like a really decent guy and I went along in support. It was a nice service with about twenty people present; mostly pilgrims but also a few Irish visitors - all named Mary! The lady next to me in the photo walked from Le Puy en Velay, she comes from Madison, Wisconsin, and we discovered we have a mutual friend in Madison!!

We started the service with Amazing Grace and I was struck afresh by the words of one of the verses: ‘Through many dangers, tools and snares I have already come, ‘tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.’

As this service concluded, people were gathering for the pilgrim mass (I judge there were about 400 by the time the service started). Of course, I didn’t understand a word of this service, it was mostly in Spanish, but at the end they did swing the whatever it’s called and offer a blessing for pilgrims - for safe passage home and grace to enact the values of the gospel as they continued their pilgrimage through life.

No one ever knows when they are going to swing the censer but when these guys took the rope mobile phones appeared everywhere!

I am spending the  remainder of my time in Santiago in quiet reflection and wandering. Jacques is returning from Finisterre this afternoon and we will meet to say farewell. I’m hoping he will have my fleece which I left on the bed in Negreira thinking it was a blanket (such was my delirium). I thought that was it, but when I discovered that Jacques was walking back from Finisterre I asked if he could call at the albergue and pick it up. He has since emailed to say he has it, how good is that!

Everyone else I met on the way has headed home. I fly out this evening to Barcelona for two days. Meanwhile, I’ll conclude this post with a few final snapshots of beautiful Santiago.

The Seminario Mayor, where I have slept these past two nights.

She made it!

And he smiled!



‘For all that has been... thanks.

For all that will be... Yes!’

Buen Camino

Neils 

Santiago... by BUS!!

Today, I caught a bus. 

That might not seem so momentous but I realised that this time on Camino is the longest period in my whole life that I have not travelled on some form of mechanised transportation.

As the bus drove through the narrow streets of Fisterra I couldn’t believe how fast we were going. I found it quite unnerving. Over the past two months I have travelled only at walking pace, the pace we humans were designed to move. It’s a pace that allows you to experience (see, hear, smell, feel and taste) things that you miss when you’re speeding through the world in the air conditioned comfort of a car, train or plane. You may be moving through but in a funny way you experience a place more fully.

I’m not denegrating these other forms of transport, though they have caused many problems for our planet, I wouldn’t be in Spain without modern transportation. But, it does make me think about what we miss and lose when we only ever use these fast forms. I hope I’ve been able to share something of this walking journey through the blog, to share some of the gifts and challenges of the world I’ve walked through. A world that has blessed me greatly. To quote from Mike Gaffney, another Camino tragic, ‘From windmills to waves, from the plains to mountains, from industrial outskirts to cobblestones, from bunks to bars, and now to the beach... what a treasured journey.’ Indeed it has been, and the great thing about a treasured journey is that it keeps giving. Already, I am looking back and savouring afresh some of the memories.

In today’s post, I thought I’d share a few of the photos I couldn’t include in recent posts. I’ll start with yesterday. Here’s one from the township of Fisterra as I walked in. Cool doors, hey!

And here are a few from Cape Finisterre as the sea mist rolled in.

And, from Muxia.

Olveiroa

In yesterday’s post, I mused on my own sense of being literally and metaphorically on a threshold and of being open (opened) to a new sense of things. In an email I received later that day there was a poem by Anne Hillman that seemed relevant to this and related themes that have arisen on the Way. I offer it for reflection and comment. Buen Camino, Neils 

We look with uncertainty

We look with uncertainty
beyond the old choices for
clear-cut answers
to a softer, more permeable aliveness
which is every moment
at the brink of death;
for something new is being born in us
if we but let it.
We stand at a new doorway,
awaiting that which comes…
daring to be human creatures,
vulnerable to the beauty of existence.

Learning to love. 

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

48. Muxia - Atlántico ho ho!

I am writing today’s blog sitting under an awning looking into the peaceful little harbour of Muxia. It is almost impossible to believe I am on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. Nearly two months ago I began walking from another sea, the Mediterranean, from Valencia in the south-east of Spain along the Levante way. The Atlantic seemed so far away - so many dusty roads to walk down, so many fields and towns to pass through, so many hills to climb, so far to go. And now, here I am in the northwestern corner of Galicia - what a wonderful day it is! 

I was woken early (5.30am) by restless bustling pilgrims. They tried to be quiet but packing a pack isn’t the quietest activity on the planet. It’s one of the trials of the way that you must endure the nocturnal habits of others. What the heck, I thought, there’s no peace here and I’m feeling good again (thankyou all you well-wishers), might as well get up and go. And, so I did.. 

The path from Olveiroa winds up and along a ridge from which northwestern Galicia stretches before you.

I stopped for brekky on the saddle just before the two paths divide - Fisterra left, Muxia right.

To my delight, most were taking a left, I had the Muxia way to myself, and what a great way it is.

A plump fig tree...

and a pregnant plane tree!

It was another hot and humid day so within minutes clothes were soaked with sweat. Any shade and breeze was appreciated... and the occasional cafe for a cool drink. The little villages were quiet and well kept, and had some interesting and colourful buildings.

And doors! There you go, Charles, this one’s half open - a sign perhaps...

As it neared midday, I climbed a hill that I suspected might be the last. Heading down the other side I emerged from the trees and behold, the Atlantic Ocean!!! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the end, I did both. It was soooooo good to see the sea!

There was still seven kilometres to walk but at last I came to a beach. Off with the shoes and socks and in I waded - it felt sooooo good!

Here is one happy peregrino.





As I was drying my feet, I met a young woman from Poland who has been sunbaking - in fact she had fallen asleep on the beach and was really sunburnt! She had walked in a day ago and directed me to a good albergue. I arrived and received a warm welcome. It’s one of the best designed albergues I’ve stayed in, it even has a saltwater trough for pilgrims to soak their feet!

Muxia is a wonderful laid back seaside town as far as I can tell. It doesn’t have the hype of too many pilgrims which can be a bit off-putting at Fisterra. There is the sound of seagulls (man they are big!) and the smell of salt and sardines cooking on braziers, the buildings are simple and colourful and all in all is fabulous to be here.

And, of course, there’s the church and site where the movie The Way finishes.

This peregrino must have finished here. I have one more stage to go - Finisterre (the end of the earth) - where I too will shed my boots, at least for now!

Buen Camino 

Neils