End of the world is well-nigh perfect
Finisterre is a spiritual high and worth the long walk to get there
ON a long solo walk towards the end of the world, I ponder the significance of The Way and the simple metaphors offered up. There are pilgrims who fall in and out of step with me along the Camino de Fisterra – some staying a short while and a rare one who walks with me for long enough to become a friend.
There’s Harold, the gregarious Bavarian who’s swiftly nicknamed King of the Road. There’s Dutch Bart, a septegenarian who has twice walked from Geneva to Santiago de Compostela.
And lovely, funny Michaela, the young Italian woman who falls into step for long enough to make a connection and continues to walk even when her blisters reach the size of golf balls. Every time we think we’ve gone our separate ways, we’re surprised and delighted to meet further along.
As I make the 121km journey from Santiago de Compostela to Muxia, passing along Galicia’s stunning Atlantic coast, easy metaphors come hard and fast.
Whichever route I take and however fast or slow I move, I will finish in the same place as everyone else. Perhaps it’s time to detach from the man I’ve been racing for two days.
If I get lost, I will eventually find the way again but hopefully without walking an extra 5km uphill first. If I ask for help, I might not find it in the most obvious place.
Locals will sometimes, without guile, send me the wrong way. I may
have to find help within myself.
I can offer help to others along the way. It will ease their journey and enrich mine, especially if they reward my kindness with a glass of Albarino wine at the end of a tough day’s walking.
Above all, I must remember to consult my walking notes at crucial stages. Stopping to take stock is the only way to move on intelligently.
Perhaps it’s the unique symbolism of the Finisterre Way that has my brain buzzing with people and metaphors.
The pagan sun worshippers who walked this route in ancient times might nod sagely at my musings. Before Christianity, pilgrims walked the Finisterre Way and the Costa da Morte (the coast of death) because they believed their adored Sun died there and the worlds of the living and dead became closer.
Finisterre was believed to be the end of the world and, as a result, many rituals, legends and maritime traditions are attached to this region.
Those who walk on to the sea-faring town of Muxia don’t rest until they’ve observed the rocking stones (pedra de Abalar)at the sanctuary of Virxe de da Barca, which are said to have special powers.
It’s also written that St James, in whose memory we are walking after all, was buried in a Finisterre forest.
Today, the Finisterre Way retains its uniqueness. It’s the only route which begins in Santiago de Compostela. It’s also an iconic route for up to 10% of all Camino pilgrims, who walk on to Finisterre to celebrate or ritualise their journey by burning walking boots or clothing at its lighthouse.
If Finisterre was a sound, it would be guttural, its narrow streets noisy at mid-day. When I reach Cape Fisterra, it’s disappointingly busy with tourist buses. I’ve been told to go to the rocks beyond the lighthouse for a moment of contemplation but the rocks are swarming with what King of the Road calls tourgrims.
The best time to visit is in the afternoon when the buses have left or at sunset when pilgrims gather once again to mark the end of their journey. Many pilgrims then move on to hippy beach parties to finish the celebration. I pass out from shellfish overload in the Hotel Rustico Spa, a quiet oasis situated 800 metres above the town.
I begin walking on an ancient misty morning in Santiago de Compostela, the nucleus of all things Camino-related. Whether you stay in a cheap albergue or the five-star Hostal dos Reis Catolicos parador, it’s worth spending some extra time here to explore over 40 historical monuments.
At dusk, stand in the Praza do Obradoiro to soak up the atmosphere. Then, enjoy the busy tapas bars tucked into narrow winding streets. Start the next day with a roof-top tour of the cathedral.
From Santiago de Compostela, the first day’s 22km walk takes me past small villages and across Roman bridges to Negreira, a working town where locals seem disinclined to celebrate its medieval origins or the fact that it was mentioned in Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls.
ON day two from Negreira to A Picota (approx 25km), golden corn fields are illuminated by early morning sun and I wander through eucalyptus and pine forests. I walk kilometre after kilometre of farm land, admiring a landscape dotted with old stone Horreos (granaries) used to store grain and protect it from nibbling rodents.
Crossing the River Barcala and climbing Monte Aro I enter the Xallas valley before farmyard smells inform me that this is cattle-rearing territory. It’s also relatively hilly territory and by the time I reach A Picota, I’m suffering from series-of-hills fatigue. Casa Jurjo in A Picota soon soothes my tired legs and frayed temper. Run by a friendly family, its fresh food, lovely bedroom and Jacuzzi bath banish all memory of annoying inclines.
Day three from A Picota to Cee is an emotional one for many, marking the point where pilgrims – who’ve often been on the road together for hundreds of kilometres – split to walk to Finisterre or Muxia.
From Alto Do Cruceiro da Armada, I catch a first glimpse of the sea at Finisterre. Arriving in Cee, my seafood antennae go up and I instantly hone in on a lunch of plump fresh mussels and glass of wine for just €6.50. Galicia is famed for its seafood and it’s a welcome surprise to find that it’s not overpriced. Cee’s gothic-apsed church and lovely old centre make this one of my favourite stops on the way.
Day four is the big one – Cee to Finisterre. The walk out of Cee is impressive, the Atlantic ocean glistening brilliantly. The walk is not long – around 18km – but the views are monumental as a beautiful path hugging cliffs and coves brings me to the big F. Most pil- grims choose to walk along a sandy beach on their way into the town. I opt to get lost and walk those extra five uphill kilometres before finding Finisterre.
Having walked the last few kilometres to burn your sports bra at Cape Fisterra, it’s your duty to eat seafood at least twice a day here – gambas al ajillo for lunch followed by mussels and clams for dinner. You cannot walk the Finisterre Way without sampling a plate of salty, spicy padron peppers, typical in this region.
Many pilgrims walk the final 28 kilometres from Finisterre to Muxia in one day but it’s worth splitting this section in two to really soak up the pleasures of Galicia. Take the coastal diversion to enjoy the best scenery.
I spend the night in Lires, a tiny village with a busy hotel, As Eiras Cee. From the hotel, it’s a ten
My mind is buzzing now with thoughts of the pagan sun worshippers of old
minute walk down to an empty beach and a welcome opportunity to dip sore feet in cool water. By day six I’m in fine walking form and the 15km to Muxia flies by in an early morning dream of eucalyptus trees, with only one taxing uphill section. Arriving in Muxia, the smell of the ocean brings me straight to an early lunch of zamburinos (scallops), eight beautifully presented queenies for ten euros. I’m not so much interested in the legend of the rocking stones at the ocean-side sanctuary as Muxia’s ocean-side fish restaurants and the imposing sea view right in front of my room in the simply lovely Hostal Cruz. Muxia is the end of the road for pilgrims but undeterred, some choose to walk back to Finisterre and Santiago de Compostela, keeping their pilgrimage alive on this mythical way.