Terminus

Finisterre (Thursday, July 1st)

It took Stella and me exactly 5 weeks to walk from St. Jean Pied-du-Port to Santiago. So this morning is the first time in 5 weeks that we are getting up and not having to repack our packs. We can simply get dressed and leave our packs in the locker provided. This is the first time in 5 weeks that we are not going to be walking kilometer upon kilometer. We are going downstairs to wait for a bus. It all feels very strange. We have gotten rather accustomed to the nomadic life and suddenly, it has all come to an abrupt, yet not unexpected, end.

After a breakfast from the fare provided out of the machines in the basement of the alburgue (not so yumm or so fresh, but high on calories and fat), we go back up to the first floor and down again to the driveway to wait on the bus. There are a fair number of pilgrims going on the trip to Finisterre today. Among them are our friends Kim and Lynda, both from England. They are grandmothers-in-law. Kim's son and Lynda's daughter (or maybe the other way around) are expecting a child together in a few months! The two only live about 60 miles apart in England. Kim, I think, wanted to walk the Camino, and asked if Lynda wanted to join her. Lynda said yes, thinking it would be a great way to get to know her better! Perhaps like us, many of the other pilgrims have time deadlines that don't allow for hiking that far, or perhaps walking to Santiago is all the hiking they really want to do. Lynda is going on from here to visit with family someplace else in Spain.

Finisterre means "land's end" and is a spit of land about 3 day's hike or a couple of hours by a not-so-fast bus. As the wheels on the bus go round and round, we can periodically see parts of the Camino that extend out to this little fishing village. Our friends, Ale and Charlie, have decided to walk out to Finisterre and I look for them, both as we head out and later in the day as we are coming back, but don't see them anywhere. Their journey will be hot because the weather has turned decidedly warmer and there is much less shade along this route, even though the sky is partly cloudy today. The vegetation along much of the way is mostly scrubby and sparse. After so much walking, even though we have taken a bus a few short times, our sense of speed, our sense of the pace of life has changed. It seems like a time warp that kilometers should pass beneath us so quickly, even though this is not a fast bus. It is a reminder of how much of our lives back home is a blur on a daily basis as we zip back and forth on errands or commutes or other travels. It is, perhaps a moment to re-appreciate the conveniences that we have, or a moment to reconsider how much of the faster, non-human paced life we should learn to live without again.

We stop in one town on the way for a break. It looks like a nice fishing village with a pretty little harbor.


Then we are on our way again. We finally arrive at Finisterre and drive past the village on out to the lighthouse area. The bus parks and we have a couple of hours to spend here. It's really too long because there isn't that much to do here unless you've brought a picnic lunch or something, which we haven't and it's too early anyway. But we get out of the bus and start to look around.



If you could see past the horizon from this point, that is, if the curvature of the earth wasn't a problem, the next thing you'd see would be America from this point!


I turn away from the view across the Atlantic and head towards the lighthouse and come across this marker that I find poignant. Let it be so. Amen.


Nearby, on a tower, there is yet another example of what I have found all along the way, but haven't been taking pictures of - God's little messages in the form of human signs, sometimes handwritten sometimes machine done. This one is in someone's handwriting, but it is still God speaking through them -- One of the machine ones was on the end of every slat of one of the bunk beds we stayed on: "Relax" "Relax" "Relax" ... Another handwritten one was scrawled on the back of a traffic sign facing the opposite direction shortly before we came to Castrojeriz, although at this moment, I can't quite remember how it was worded, but it was what I needed to hear at that moment. These little messages have happened on perhaps at least half a dozen occasions. Others might not see them as God speaking, but I do.

The messages have all been in the oddest places that one might just miss, unless...



I continue down around to the other side of the light house. There is a tradition among some pilgrims that when they reach this point, they burn everything they have with them, setting themselves free, I suppose. There are several piles of charred remains of clothing and other items giving credence to that tradtion. I can't really understand doing that unless perhaps your stuff is thoroughly infested with bedbugs. Mine isn't at all, and personally, I've invested too much in my backpack, boots, clothing and other items to just burn them all up. Perhaps it is my Scottish or German frugality! (Or just good ol' common sense!)





Behind the lighthouse, the land ends steeply, rockily, like pictures of the coast of Maine (I haven't been there). I climb down part way, but given that, while I am nimble, I am not so sure footed, I am very careful which little worn path among the rocks I choose. Some of the folks have chosen to (bravely or foolishly, you decide) go down much further on little, tiny outcroppings. I watch the waves crash far below. I am almost afraid to watch these people sit here and walk on these paths, as if by being here, I will somehow be responsbile for their untimely demise as they pitch headfirst into the sea when they lose their footing! Watching them move about makes me that nervous. It is that dangerous of a cliffside. I wonder if anyone has ever fallen off - I'm not sure what this cross is for. I move to a place where I feel perfectly secure and enjoy the sun for awhile. There is a plane doing loop-de-loops in the air overhead and occasionally not quite buzzing us. I haven't heard sea birds squawking and listened to tides and winds or smelled salt air in quite awhile and it is wonderful. I haven't been this still for awhile.

Eventually, I get myself up and climb back up to the lighthouse. There are a couple exhibits inside - a local art exhibit and a historical exhibit about the lighthouse and the Finisterre area. They're both interesting, but neither takes that much time. There's another building that has a restaurant, but it's too early for lunch. Up near the bus, there's a stand with lots of seashell touristy schlock. And restrooms. Some of us are done long before the appointed time to leave, so we just sit around waiting and waiting.

In due time (or longer), we all get back on the bus and we drive the short distance back into the village of Finisterre. There isn't actually that much there, either! Stella and I decide to have lunch at a little German-run restaurant right in the center of the village. We have a wonderful lunch with an Indian flair to it. Very different from what we'd been having. Our waitress is a lady from Germany who comes down several times a year just to work in this restaurant and take a break from her normal life. She's very pleasant and friendly. We dine al fresco on their porch and enjoy a nice glass of wine with our meal. From our table, we can watch the small harbor with the little boats bobbing up and down.

After our lunch, we explore Finisterre. There isn't a lot to explore. There are very few shops and what there are are closed now. Down along the waterfront, we head left first and find that there isn't very far we can go without climbing over an obstacle course. In the distance, we see a beautiful, long beach in the NEXT village! There's a "Pirate Bar" that I take a picture of for my cousins, the Smitties, who have an annual pirate party. Then we work our way back across the rough path and rubble and head the other way across the waterfront. They have a bit of a fishing industry and working waterfront. We get alemandradro blancos and sit down on a bench to watch for a little bit. The screech of the gulls and the briny water, the wet, slimy kelp and barnacled little boats are somehow all etched into a video memory, replete with the bereted little man, not this time on a bike, but in his little skiff. After the ice cream, we continue walking. We find a small beach where all the village children play with abandon, and we discover that sea glass, in blue and green and a little aqua, washes up here. We collect a little to take back with us. There is a man who is collecting a lot of it, especially the green. Eventually, we start back, and run into Kim and Lynda. We join them in a glass of wine at a little cafe before heading back for the bus. Finisterre has been interesting. Less than what I thought it would be, whatever that was, but still interesting and worth the trip - but I'm glad we didn't spend all that time walking here!

We get back in the late afternoon. I decide to wander down from the seminario menor into Santiago to see about getting some mementos of the journey. Stella wants to stay in the alburgue. It is a hike just to get into the city. Down five flights of stairs out of the building and another long flight (about three or four floors worth) down the hill, then a hike over to the city wall and a climb back up as far as I've dropped down! But then I wander through the interesting little stores on the old city streets. I'm not sure what I'm looking for, but I have in mind a piece of jewelry, probably earrings, with stars (Compostela, field of stars) to remind me of this trip. I look and look and really don't find anything. I'm not sure what time stores close, but this will really be my only chance. We have heard that tomorrow it will rain and so we have decided to use it to ride the bus back to Madrid and take advantage of a rainy day that way. While I'm going up and down the streets, I come across a small orchestra completely filling one of them, playing classical music. It is the tail end of their concert, with people standing all around them, but it is lovely! Shortly after this, I find my two purchases - a neat little music store where I find a CD with interesting Celtic inspired Spanish music, "Lulavi", lulabies, in a sense, and in a funky, sort of newly vintage style clothing, a pair of dangling, handcrafted star earrings. Perfect! The man in the clothing store is so apologetic that the earrings are missing one of the backings that he knocks a euro off the price. They are wrapped up like a little gift. And they are, to me! I get a couple of other little things for people that can fit into my pack, and find a nice little place to cash in a coupon we got on our last day before reaching Santiago for a free glass of wine. It's an interesting little bar. It's a shame to have it all by myself, but that's the way it is. Then I begin the trek back to the seminario. Tomorrow morning we will say goodbye to the place that has been our destination for so long!