The End of the World x 2

The walk to Fisterra hurt! Even though the walk itself threw up many postcard type moments, it also physically spat you out. 

A visit to Fisterra is incomplete without a trek to Faro Fisterra, the so called end of the world.  This is where the famous 0.00km marker sits and tradition states, that pilgrims from the Frances Camino discard their shell and burn their clothing to signify purity and new beginnings.  Such a practice is now out-lawed, but a few hearty souls still try to sneak in a pilgrim BBQ.

The hike to Faro Fisterra was accompanied by a sky filled with stars, a mist that crept over the cliff tops and carpeted the path. The goal was to reach Faro as the sun rose and watch the dawn wash across the ocean.  It was on the rocks that we waited, silhouetted by the hue of the lighthouse beacon for the awakening of the day.  Brad had came prepared and as the full glory of the dawn erupted, he pulled out a beer, cracked it to salute the morn.  A celebration lunch of Gambones (prawns fried in garlic, olive oil and rock-salt) and super Grande gin & tonic topped off a great day.

The end but not quite. From Fisterra, the plan had been to walk the 28km to Muxia, however; Lea, who had begun the adventure with a canter, was reduced to a hobble. It was decided to catch the bus for the last stretch. A tough choice at the time, but the right one in hindsight.  Muxia, is also known as the end of the world, however; unlike Fisterra with its flashy tourist trappings, Muxia is a sleepy town in a laid back kind of way.  The Atlantic Ocean smashes into this simple fishing village, where the Virgin of the Boat (Sanctuary of Virxe da Barca) along with Monte Corpino lovingly protect the local  community.

Muxia provided us with a time of reflection.  We broke bread, drank wine, watched the colour of the ocean change from aquamarine to shades of grey and relaxed as the bleeding sun leeched across the horizon.

 As we soaked up the ambience, we realised that this is not the end but a merely Camino chapter.

  The Portuguese way is calling!

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.