Camino de fisterra!

The streets of Santiago seemed to be a place of isolation as we began our way to Fisterra. Our poles echoed across the Plaza do Obradorio, which many hours before had been a place of jubilation, as pilgrims converged to celebrate the end of their journey.   Leaving town, we headed into a forest where our torch beams ensured us of a clear path.  At one stage we decided to turn off our head-torches to experience the total darkness; all vision was lost, as we stood and savoured the moment.

We traversed through Ponte Sarela and Sarlea de Abaixo then  stopped and witnessed the morning light touch the Cathedral in the  far off distance.  Our journey took us through ancient forests and hamlets, so rustic that even dilapidated houses were picture worthy.  The magic of tranquility engulfed us and it felt like we were the only people on the way.  A rest stop at Ponte Maceria saw us scramble across rocks to lounge near the Rio Tambre.  It is here that legend says  'As the disciples of St James fled the Romans, divine intervention collapsed the centre span of the bridge, stranding the Romans on the other side'.

It was at Negreria, that we began to build the sense of community that was missing in our previous section of the Camino.  Jumping in at Ponferreda, felt like being an intruder in a reality TV show, here however, everyone started the journey at the same place.

A blanket of fog greeted us as we emerged from the Albergue and  passed through the walled gate of Negreria to make our way to Zas. It made for a  difficult and dangerous trek as a good stretch was roadside.  Car headlights streamed towards us and we hoped that the beam of our head torch illuminated enough so that we were visable. The pea soup mist took us  through the hamlets of O Rapote and A Pena and Pixae.  Our morning tea stop saw Brad consume a bocadillo the size of his head; carbed up he was rearing to tackle the rest of the day. Our path was halted outside Maronas as a herd of cows stared, strolled and flashed the occasional brown eye whilst littering the path with their waste.  They seemed to smile knowingly at us as we zig zagged  our way through cow pat offerings and  made our way to Santa Marina to rest overnight.

Raging rivers flowed in the foreground as we made our way towards Logoso, a village owned by one family and is famous for a balancing rock.  (We discovered that this phenomena was not created by mother nature but a bulldozer and crane). Horreos scattered the landscape surrounding the hamlets of Lamelas, Lago and Corzon.  These narrow, grainstores are used to protect, hold and ripen all types of grain, are prominent in the Galicia region.  It was along this trek that we saw pilgrims camped out, their tent flapping in the wind and a huge buen Camino greeted us as we passed.  

We attempted to balance our walking distance so that our bodies were not fatigued and manage injuries.  However, the Finisterre - Muxia Camino had a couple of big 30km plus days which slammed hard. As we started the 31km walk into Fisterra in the early morn, darkness covered the landscape and for the first time stars dance as we walked through forests of eucalyptus trees that spawn their unique aroma, reminiscent of home. The great divide splits the Camino into two: Fisterra and Muxia; we turned toward Fisterra! A sunrise  immersed us in its glory and we caught our first glimpse of the Atlantic  Ocean  on our way down to Cee.   Following the coast line to Corcubion, Iglesias de San Marcos erupts from the streetscape and marinas line the coastline.  The last 5km was tough as we walked on man made cobble stones that played havoc with our feet. 8 hours after we left Logoso,  we stumbled into Fisterra, beaten and fatigued.  With just enough energy left we grabbed our 'Fisterrana' and made our way to our accommodation.  The end of the world could wait. It wasn't  going anywhere nor were we.

The Awakening!

The whispers ebb away at the subconscious, a glimpse of torch light dance across closed eyelids and the rustle of bags being repacked becomes the chorus of the Camino awakening. A night in an albergue, Deja Vu!

It is from Ponferrada that our feet first hit the Camino trail and romantic memories from our last sojourn filter back.  Excitedly, we diligently watch out for arrows and shells, as we try to shake the jet-lag.  We pass through Compostilla Iglesia Santa Maria, where street art frames the portico; onto the sleepy hamlet of Fuentus Nuevas, until we reach Cacabelos, where we sleep the night in the grounds of the Capilla de Las Augustia XVII.  A  celebration is had, as we sit by the river, making toasts with vino tinto to the freedom of the Camino!

Darkness and rain greet us as we set out from Cacabelos to God knows where.  The first 2kms sees us illuminated by our headtorches as we follow the way out of town.  A crackling hum of power lines guided us through vineyards, as early morning farmers, waved purple stained hands in greeting.  Our way took us through Villafranco del Biezo, where churches dominate the skyline and an 8.50 Euro stick of deodorant awaits to be purchased. Some may see the correlation here! Unfortunately, we missed the scenic alternative route and instead, were thrown  onto a main arterial road that heaves fumes and spits up asphalt. On to the hamlet of Trabadelo, where serendipity takes control and we stop at Casa Susi.  We learn of a love story between our hosts, Susi and Fermon and how the Camino is intertwined with fate. We share a communal meal, stories and experiences over a couple of bottles  local of vinos.  Laughter fills the Casa and we go to bed knowing that the Camino has once  again provided a day of memories.

We awake  next morn with the knowledge that our day ahead will involve conquering the highest peak on the way of St James - O'Cebreiro.  To reach this beast of a peak, we pass through hamlets of Abasement, Ruitelan, La Faba and Launa de Cada, which blur into one and seem to have the same picturesque postcard setting of ramshakle houses, balconies in bloom, undulating hills, combined with a distinct aroma of cow dung.
 

The trek up to the peak was a brut- a gut busting event.  Our poles propped and propelled us forward, little by little as  the lactic acid made our legs buckle, and the sweat cascaded from every pore.  They do say 'no pain, no gain' and this is true of the El Camino.  Arriving at the summit of O'Cebrerio and looking out across the plateau, we have a clear understanding of  the meaning of such a saying.

Onward to Tricastela, and our thoughts move to Sarria and Santiago  de Compostella.  Our plan had been to walk to Sarria then catch a train to Santiago, but as we completed the first section quicker than expected, we decide to walk on. A decision of some regret.  A few days short of Santiago, the crowds flooded the path, designer gear sparkled and pilgrim tourists  walked with beers rather than hiking poles.  Cafes and bars were six deep as people fought over a stamp for their credential and tour buses wait at designated areas to pick up passengers to drop off at the next scenic stretch.  The beauty of the landscape was dissolved by the masses and in hindsight, we should have by-passed this section and started on our way to Fisterra earlier.

The Camino has always been about the 3C's - Challenge, Community and Conversation.  It is at the many Albergues that conversations flow over vino tinto and questions always filter back to why, the  Camino.  Stories are retold to new companions who will be replaced at the next Albergue and so the cycle continues.

Postscript:  Made it to Santiago and waited 5 hours at the Pilgrim Office to get our Compostela. (of which, we now have 2)