The Return to Santiago de Compostela

By Dusty Tracker | Published: July 19, 2010
The feet that got me there and the Compostela achieved

The feet that got me there and the Compostela achieved

The morning at the Provincial Albergue was the same as at the others – an early rise and we had to leave by 8am so that the volunteers could clean the dormitory in preparation for the arrival of today’s pilgrims. Except one thing was different. This was my last day in an albergue for the time being. After last night’s celebration of the completion of the journey to Cape Finisterre, it was a little sad. The daily ritual of walking, eating and sleeping had come to an end. After so many days the pleasant routine would be broken.

Scallop shell walking sticks available in Santiago

Scallop shell walking sticks available in Santiago

A pilgrim outside the Pilgrim Office in Santiago de Compostela

A pilgrim outside the Pilgrim Office in Santiago de Compostela

I reflected on the distance I had walk. Recounting again the huge distance of about 1600km since Le Puy-en-Velay, the thought of the number of steps taken crossed my mind. Just before Uhart Mixe in France, I had counted the steps taken to a road junction from its signs. There were 1250 steps per kilometre so according to my calculations I had taken 2 million steps since Le Puy! I was amused how this bit of multiplication came to a neat round number!

There was deep tiredness and elation mixed with sadness at completing the Camino. The overwhelming feeling of ‘what now?’ filled my mind. I preferred the journey, not the destination. An dormitory cleaner shouting for me to be out by 8am woke me from my reflections. Finally packing up, it was time to return to Santiago de Compostela. The previous night I had found the bus times and there was still fifteen minutes until the next bus left. The bus stop was crowded with walkers for the return journey so it was back to a harbour side cafe to wait for a couple of hours until the next, hopefully less busy bus. I would get to the bus stop earlier to make sure of a seat.

A lady walks along a covered street in Santiago de Compostela

A lady walks along a covered street in Santiago de Compostela

Ray, Alex, Kar O Lin, Ruth, Moritz, Arthuro and many others arrived at the cafe. We sat in the early morning sun chatting over endless coffees. Some were intent on continuing to walk South to Portugal. Ray just wanted to get as far as he could before he had to return to Britain. I was a bit jealous that they could continue the journey, to continue the simple daily routine of eating, walking, eating and sleeping. It was addictive in its simplicity – I vowed to do another long distance walk again one day.

Walkers arrive in Santiago de Compostela

Walkers arrive in Santiago de Compostela

I said my goodbyes as the bus time approached. It was sad to say goodbye after knowing them all for so many weeks – familiar faces in an unfamiliar land. We would all keep in touch.

At the bus stop, I was surprised to see Bernard. He had set off with Deirdré the day before to walk back to Santiago de Compostela. They had got to the climb out of Ceé when Bernard had suddenly decided that he did not want to walk any more. He walked back to Finisterre. A whole day walking to end up at the same place! Somehow I could understand his change of heart. He would be taking the same bus back to Santiago de Compostela. He was chatting and I needed silence. I was sad and sat in another area of the top deck of the bus. Nothing against Bernard – what was needed was just to sit quietly staring out of the window as the bus crawled along the coast of Galicia. Time to reflect on the last ten weeks, time to come to terms with the change, the transition back to daily life. It would not be easy. As the bus left and the magical coastline unfolded.

Inside the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela

Inside the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela

There were sparkling waters and azure seas. Small villages glistened with white-washed walls. People paddled on the sand flats digging for worms. Others clambered over the sharp rocks to collect molluscs. In the towns that slipped by the cafes and restaurants were filled with holidaymakers as well as locals. The sun was strong and if the windows had not been tinted, the eyes may have been damaged! The bus trundled along at a reassuring speed. It wound round bays and estuaries clinging to the small road. A feeling of safety and stability yet at the speed of the modern world. After walking for so long the bus seemed to be going very fast. It wasn’t. It had been so long since taking a bus that it was a strange novelty. I dozed on an off with the air suspension of the bus as my mattress.

There were many Saint James silverware items for sale in the town

There were many Saint James silverware items for sale in the town

Saint James

Saint James

Sunset in Santiago de Compostela

Sunset in Santiago de Compostela

Two hours later in Santiago de Compostela I spoke to Bernard and wished him well for his next walk. He was planning to do the Camino del Norte later in the year. Returning to the room in Esvina’s home, I was welcomed with open arms. Dinner would be at 7pm. I slept for a while then wandered around town in the late afternoon. At the Cathedral the queue for the Tomb of Saint James was short. Before long I completed the circuit through the Cathedral. Climbing down into the Sepulcrum, then up to traditionally embrace the statue of Saint James. It was a moving moment.

Dinner later in the evening was delicious. There was Esvina and two other lodgers around the table (both students at the University of Santiago de Compostela). My Spanish had improved over the last four weeks but was far from perfect. Still conversation and mutual understanding prevailed and it was a pleasant night.

Next day the flight was at 11.35am and after a good breakfast and warm goodbyes it was time to walk the ten minutes back to the bus station to take the bus to the airport a few kilometres out of town.

As the aircraft took off, I could clearly see along the North Coast of Spain towards the Picos de Europa mountains. Somewhere just to the South of those mountains was a short marked path called the ‘Camino de Santiago de Compostela’ or ‘The Way of Saint James’.

The Camino would continue for a long time after I got off that plane. The pilgrimage would never be over. The Camino stays in your life whatever happens. It is forever guiding you.

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San Roque – Finisterre

By Dusty Tracker | Published: July 18, 2010
One of the stones suspended in the garden of the Alberge de San Roque

One of the stones suspended in the garden of the Alberge de San Roque

The morning was cool and sunny and it would be another hot day. The last day of walking! An early rise with a strong conviction and anticipation that I would complete the distance. The friendly volunteer in the albergue had laid out bread and jam on the table and there was hot fresh coffee. A good donation was left for his kindness. Packing up, I thanked him for the kind hospitality and set off. He was full of happiness for me on my final day having come all the way from Le Puy-en-Velay. He merrily waved me goodbye.

Bernard and Deirdré near Finisterre

Bernard and Deirdré near Finisterre

Familiar faces at the cafe by the sea

Familiar faces at the cafe by the sea

The Way entered some damp dark woodland for a short time before winding around the crystal blue waters of the coast. It was far before I discovered a small cafe. I sat alone having another coffee and enjoying the beach side atmosphere. A young dishevelled pilgrim arrived and we chatted. Lesse was from Esbjerg in Denmark. He had set out many months ago walking the coast of Belgium before crossing to England, then walking the South Coast Path and crossing again to France. He had been walking many more months than I and was even more excited about arriving in Finisterre. Some familiar faces arrived at the cafe and we all talked for a while.

Soon, it was back to the road. Just after the cafe I bumped into Deirdré and Bernard again. I was surprised as I thought that they had already returned to Santiago de Compostela. Finally, looking at Deirdé, I reached in my pocket and handed over the €20 saying nothing. It was the €20 that I had borrowed so long ago in O Cebreiro as I arrived in Galicia. I thanked her again before revealing that I was relieved to have repaid my debts before reaching the End of the World! It would save me posting it to her in Canada! Both Bernard and Deirdré had decided to walk back to Santiago de Compostela. After heartfelt goodbyes, they disappeared into the distance. It had been good to walk and talk with them over the past few weeks.

At last we round a corner and see Finisterre on the headland

At last we round a corner and see Finisterre on the headland

A scallop shell left at Cape Finisterre

A scallop shell left at Cape Finisterre

A small path cut the corner over the headland and back through nature. It was constantly comforting that I now felt more at home in nature that walking through towns and villages. There is a definite need for Human kind to connect with nature. The Camino does this and helps with this important connection. The day was warming again as the Sun climbed high into the sky. Walking with Lesse, I reflected on Lorenzo’s comments that when he had taken the bus to Finisterre a few days before, there was nothing but mist. He saw none of the beauty of the coast. I was blessed with good weather. When we rounded a corner, there before us across brilliant azure waters, was the town of Finisterre. Lesse stopped in his tracks and dropped to the ground. His journey, greater than mine, and full of more reflection, caused him to be swept away by his emotions. It was his sadness at the journey coming to an end that affected him most.

Before Finisterre was a huge wide bay. Locals and holiday makers were enjoying the warm shallow waters and other pilgrims were relaxing after reaching their goal. I stopped for a while and took a swim. Lesse followed as he could not wait for his first swim in the sea for quite a while. He ran into the warm waters shouting with joy. There on the beach there was Maria from Italy. Without asking, she offered me her bus ticket back to Santiago de Compostela. She had met some friends and would be getting a lift back. I gratefully accepted. Later I reflected on how the Way provided. I myself had only €15 in my pocket and when I tried to withdraw money from the bank, two machines rejected my card. A third would only give me €20! The kindness of Maria and the Way of Saint James had been a saviour and would allow me to have just enough money to return to Santiago in the morning. It was the end of the budget!

The zero km marker by the lighthouse at Cape Finisterre

The zero km marker by the lighthouse at Cape Finisterre

Near the small harbour was the Provisional Albergue. The main albergue was closed for renovations. It was a large warehouse-type place with over 80 beds. The welcome was a little tense as I was questioned about the true distance I had walked. Many took the bus from Santiago de Compostela to claim their certificate in Finisterre. This was frowned upon. As soon as I produced my Credencial with all the stamps since Le Puy, the atmosphere changed. I was warmly welcomed, complete with a fascinating discussion on the Celtic history of this historic coast.

The lighthouse at Cape Finisterre

The lighthouse at Cape Finisterre

A pilgrim arrives at Cape Finisterre

A pilgrim arrives at Cape Finisterre

Watching the Sun set at Cape Finisterre

Watching the Sun set at Cape Finisterre

After showering and changing and a couple of cold beers with Alex, Ray, Eva and many other familiar faces, it was time to prepare for the (relatively) short 3 km walk to the Cape. As is tradition, everyone was going to watch the sunset. There was relief and happiness about the prospect of touching the End of the Earth. Everyone had finished walking.

The crowd at the cape was huge but, as the day trippers and motorised tourists left, the pilgrims remained. The lighthouse was perched on top of the huge cliffs. There was a final marker pronouncing 0 km. Everyone waited chatting about the great experiences they had had. The atmosphere was one of sheer delight, tiredness and restrained jubilation. The Sun was turning the sky a warm golden orange and the memories of my walk came flooding back.

Some burned an old shirt or boot. Some raised their arms to the Sun and cried with delight. Others sat in circles in meditation. It was a special place and a special moment as the Sun finally set. A wave of calm then swept over the pilgrims. A hushed silence of disbelief about what we had experienced. Everyone had their personal experiences and remained in their own reflections, and in their own space, for some time. There was the distant smell of burning clothes mixed with the fresh salty air rushing up the cliffs. The waves crashed against the cliffs far below. The screech of seabirds that did not understand why we were all there. Maybe they did?

In Le Puy-en-Velay I had many questions and no answers. Now I believed I had many answers. Somehow I could not clearly define the answers but it didn’t matter. It felt good.

Walkers burn past memories at the Cape

Walkers burn past memories at the Cape

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Puente Olveiroa – San Roque

By Dusty Tracker | Published: July 17, 2010
Two pilgrims from Korea

Two pilgrims from Korea

Everyone was feeling a bit slow in the morning after last night’s free flowing wine and excellent food. I woke with the outside of the bivi bag saturated with condensation from the cold overnight air. It had been a good fitful sleep all the same. I packed up again – the routine of packing up was well versed after so many days walking. With some strong coffee from the owner of the albergue, we all sat round a table in the bright morning sun. No one was keen to start walking. There were questions from the albergue owner about a tent that had a appeared during the night. No one knew who it was or at least no one admitted to arriving and pitching their tent during the night. The deal was that if you took advantage of the free camping you had to eat at the albergue. However the matter was soon forgotten.

Setting off it was only a kilometre to the village of Olveiroa. At the entrance to the village there were bells ringing and a sombre crowd. There was a funeral. I followed the group past many ‘horreos‘ to a small church. People sat around chatting as the sun rose in the sky. The church was simple and surrounded by ornately designed ‘stacked’ graves. I paused to give respect as the silent crowd mumbled to each other about their loss.

Some horses stand head to tail to whisk away the flies

Some horses stand head to tail to whisk away the flies

There was a small cafe in the village where I bumped into Rory and Matt. More coffee and as Rory tucked into a huge pilchard, I ordered one too. They were coated in olive oil and barbecued over a hot charcoal fire and were delicious! A couple of girls from South Korea were there and laughing and smiling they posed for a photograph.

An old stone cross in the middle of a field

An old stone cross in the middle of a field

The Way continued steadily upwards from the village. Now, suddenly, I could smell the sea. The sky was getting larger and the air had a salty freshness that is always present as one approaches the coast anywhere in the World. On the hill tops there were many wind turbines humming in the breeze. Some say they are noisy but to me it was a silent hum somehow in tune with nature. Still, were they good or bad?

Someone had left a boot near the Ermita de las Nieves

Someone had left a boot near the Ermita de las Nieves

Boot stuck on a Camino marker

Boot stuck on a Camino marker

The shadow of the Cross of the Armada

The shadow of the Cross of the Armada

Through calm woods there were occasional fields with horses standing head to tail as they swished the flies from each other’s face. It was calm. The Way was composed of large rough stones but it was walkable and very peaceful. The wind whispered through pine trees as the path continued to rise. At the summit was a small village called Hospital. There were many villages called Hospital on the Way as they had been refuges or hospitals for pilgrims for hundreds of years. I stopped at a cafe there that had a view to a strange looking building on the hill side. It was an iron foundry and was completely out of place. Industrial steam emanated from its roof and blank walls sat amongst the vegetation as a mark to the human invasion of nature. It was not pretty.

I sat with Rory and Matt and had some lunch. Soon after we continued and entered a heathland of low plants and pines. It was almost surreal. The fresh wind from the East played in the trees as the heat of the day increased. On some trees were articles of clothing placed there by previous pilgrims. Rory found a striped t-shirt that he thought was quite fashionable and untied it from the tree before putting it on! Soon was the Ermita de las Nieves. An old pilgrim rest stop, there was an alter outside the building where pilgrims had left pictures and other items in memory of a loss or a loved one. There was a large cross sitting in the middle of a large field. The atmosphere was unique – somewhere between isolation and calm. Many rocky kilometres followed across the barren hills before the descent to the town of Ceé. Dropping down I passed the Cross of the Armada. Singularly it was isolated on the hill top above the town and commemorated Spain’s naval history.

Ceé was a quiet but a fairly large town nestled in a horseshoe shaped bay. The late afternoon light by now was bringing out the contrasts and the colours of the buildings. There were bright pink flowers on large bushes as the small fishing boats bobbed up and down in the bay. Rory and Matt went off to find an albergue but I was fascinated and wanted to head to another albergue that lay past the town on top of a hill.

The town of Ceé rising up the hillside

The town of Ceé rising up the hillside

Statue in a garden in Ceé

Statue in a garden in Ceé

I found it shortly after a steep climb from the town. It was clean and warm and welcoming in the Albergue of San Roque. There was a volunteer at the albergue and only one other pilgrim. I was made welcome and asked to stay for a meal. I needed to return to Ceé to purchase another memory card for the camera and gratefully accepted the offer later in the evening when I returned. The light was fantastic and in Ceé the old church was wonderful. The sun was warm and strong and I found the memory card to allow me to take more photographs tomorrow when I would arrive in Finisterre!

Returning to the albergue in San Roque, I had some dinner with the albergue volunteer and the only other guest – an American from New York. Soon they retired and I sat in the early dark outside listening to the sounds of night setting in. There was distant music from a festival below in Ceé. I was too tired to venture out again. Instead the sweet scent of the large flowers from the garden filled me with peace and ushered me to an early bed. Tomorrow would be the final day of walking after almost ten weeks.

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Negreira – Puente Olveiroa

By Dusty Tracker | Published: July 16, 2010
A map on a restaurant cover

A map on a restaurant cover

It was still dark and it was still raining. There was a lot of activity at about 5:30am inside the albergue as the keen walkers were getting ready to leave. I had a couple of fresh peaches and a coffee with the others who had been forced to spend the night on the floor of the albergue due to the lack of beds.

Just as it was getting light, probably about 6:30am (I had taken my watch off weeks ago as there seemed no need for a watch on the timeless Camino!), I set off in the light rain. The poncho came into its own again and helped to fend off the damp chill air. The Way climbed past a small church and into dense woodland which gave some shelter from the drizzle. The smell of moist leaves and mosses was very strong. Some time later the Way came to a road and followed it’s edge for some time. There were clearings in the forest where local farmers grew maize and dairy cows grazed. There were a few small villages but no people around.

Walkers wake up before dawn in the albergue in Negreira

Walkers wake up before dawn in the albergue in Negreira

After about eight kilometres, at the small village of Pena, I was relieved to see a sign for a cafe. Many other walkers were there eating croissants and drinking hot milky coffee. It was a relaxing place and it was two coffees later before I could persuade myself to continue. At least by now the rain had stopped and the cloud was breaking up. The Way continued by the road then headed off to the right into more open maize fields and forest stretches. By the fields there were quite a few ‘Horreos’ (stone structures used to store grain). The forest was a native and Eucalyptus mix and in places was quite spectacular. I constantly compared this environment to the dry parched lands of only a few days ago. It was cool and pleasant walking.

Horreo on the way to Finisterre

Horreo on the way to Finisterre

It was lunch time by the time I got to the small village of Santa Marina. There I was told that there was a bar and restaurant on the main road. Being hungry, it was a relief to hear that news. I had some sardines in olive oil but no bread. Asking inside, the barman pointed me to another house along the road. ‘That is where the baker lives’ he said. I knocked on a garage door and was invited in through the house to a large kitchen behind. Three ladies were hard at work. One was mixing bread doe in a large mixer, another stirring a huge pot of Galician vegetable soup, and a third preparing to carve the largest joint of meat I have ever seen. I asked for some bread and they happily weighed a huge loaf of bread before selling it to me for €0.50. Delighted with the purchase I returned to the bar and tore into the fresh bread and tin of sardines.

Matt

Matt

Rory

Rory

Gennaro and Richardo arrived and ordered a sandwich. Soon after Matt and Rory (who I first met in Triacastela) arrived. We all sat chatting and having a beer under the shade of a huge tree outside the bar. It was great to watch the many other walkers come and go. Some stopped while some continued on past. There was a couple with umbrellas wheeling their packs behind them, and another couple returning to Santiago de Compostela with their donkey.

Two non-conventional pilgrims going to Finisterre

Two non-conventional pilgrims going to Finisterre

By now it was getting very hot. The last remaining cloud had disappeared and the contrast with the chill wet of the morning was marked. I continued on with Rory and Matt. They were both suffering from leg and foot problems so we stopped every hour in order that they could rest. The land opened up again as we left the forest behind. It was mainly rolling fields as we reached the top of a long slow climb. The views down to a reservoir in the valley below and to the mountains in the distance were superb. After another long pause in a field for a siesta near Lago, it was a further six kilometres to Puente Olveiroa. Just after the bridge in Puente Olveiroa there was a simple A-frame building – a cafe and outdoor sports centre. Free camping was offered for pilgrims too so this would be the stop for the night!

Two people and a donkey return from Finisterre

Two people and a donkey return from Finisterre

Many other pilgrims had the same idea, and we all ordered the Pilgrim Menu together that night. It was a substantial meal and great fun. We swapped stories about our adventures as the food and wine kept flowing. It was very late when we all finally retired to the tents provided by the albergue. It was such a mild warm night that I happily laid down the sleeping mat and crawled into the sleeping bag and bivi bag under the stars. This is life as it should be!

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Santiago de Compostela – Negreira

By Dusty Tracker | Published: July 15, 2010
Scallop of Saint James

Scallop of Saint James

Well it was a slow start! After three days enjoying Santiago de Compostela it was time to begin the final push to Finisterre. I said goodbye to Esvina and promised that I would take up her kind offer of a free bed and family meal on my return to the city. She had been very hospitable and I had enjoyed my short stay at her house. She kindly let me leave a few things at the house so the walk to Finisterre should be a bit lighter and a bit easier!

Prints and souvenirs for sale in town

Prints and souvenirs for sale in town

I walked slowly through the town. There were new pilgrims arriving all the time. I felt their happiness at arriving at their goal. There were couples and groups of scouts and a myriad of others. It was strange to be leaving the city when so many people were arriving! There were few who looked like they were heading to Finisterre. Many I had walked with over the past days, the past weeks had taken the bus. They had obviously had enough of walking. I had promised myself long ago in Lectoure that I would complete the walk to Finisterre. The Way led through a small white-washed street before descending into a tiny valley with stone cottages. Soon I was back in the familiar whispering eucalyptus forests. This time there was no one else, just me. Gone were the noisy crowds of walkers and the tourist pilgrims. It was just the forest and the Way of Saint James and my plodding steps.

Two walkers pass through the streets of Santiago de Compostela

Two walkers pass through the streets of Santiago de Compostela

At a small cafe in the village of Portela I said hello again to Mara who had ridden her horse all the way from Switzerland. She was deep in conversation with a friend over lunch so I did not get a chance to chat much. I ordered a tortilla with ham and cheese and sat enjoying the rewarding feeling of walking once again. The muscles were slowly loosening up and walking was again becoming a familiar process.

A group of Scouts arrive in Santiago de Compostela

A group of Scouts arrive in Santiago de Compostela

Each village I passed through was very different to the villages before Santiago de Compostela. The communities were more rural and less dependent on the passing pilgrims for their daily livelihood. It was mainly dairy farming country and many spoke the local Galician language. It was remarkably relaxing and refreshingly quiet – I was enjoying this part of the Camino. I had made the right choice. It was good to walk this final few days and not rush back to the modern world by taking the bus to the final destination.

Looking back to Santiago de Compostela from the Camino

Looking back to Santiago de Compostela from the Camino

At an old bridge in Ponte Maceira I met Gennaro from Italy. He did not speak much English, and my Italian and Spanish were still poor. Somehow we communicated well and walked the rest of the day together.

The bridge at the village of Ponte Maceira

The bridge at the village of Ponte Maceira

After only 21 kilometres or so there was the village of Negreira. There was an albergue here where we hoped to spend the night. On arriving however the small office for pilgrims advised that it was full (having only a few beds). None the less, we continued on and found the albergue up the hill after the village. It was indeed a small albergue and all the beds were indeed taken. The young man at the reception said that there was another albergue at the entrance to the village. We did not have the energy to walk back so asked if we could put our sleeping mats and sleeping bags on the floor. He said that it was not allowed and anyway we should pay €5 for use of the facilities. After a brief pause he smiled and said that we could do what we wanted adding that he had not seen us! Finally he advised it would rain tonight. I was touched by his willingness to bend the rules to accommodate exhausted pilgrims.

Arch linking the Capilla and the Pazo de Coton in Negreira

Arch linking the Capilla and the Pazo de Coton in Negreira

Gennaro headed off into town to buy some pasta and meat for the evening meal. After a shower I did so too as we had agreed that I would supply the fruit and wine for the meal. Negreira was a fascinating place. The centre seemed to be in a time warp. The majority of the town consisted of modern apartments contrasting uniquely with the older town centre. There were cafes and bars from the Forties and Fifties with highly ornate ceilings and lighting. It was a relaxing place, a quiet market town serving the immediate area with basic shops and services. I liked it a lot!

Returning to the albergue, Gennaro was already cooking the pasta and we sat down with everyone else outside the building as light rain started to fall. We opened a Rioja and dived into the pasta meal. Out of the fading light Moritz, Ray, Alexander, Viktoria, Ruth and many other familiar faces appeared. They too were looking for a bed for the night. By now the man from the albergue had long gone. Everyone decided to sleep on the floor as we were doing.

Mara and friend rest with the trusty horse

Mara and friend rest with the trusty horse

It was so busy on the limited floor space inside the albergue that I decided to stay outside under the shelter of the overhanging roof. I put down my mat and sleeping bag and retired to the sound of the gentle light rain pattering on the roof with the cool wind blowing in my face. It was not too cold and seemed like a perfect place to sleep.

Decanting wine in a local bar

Decanting wine in a local bar

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