Day 41 - Finisterre

This morning we were off to Finisterre, on the "Death Coast".

The bus left at 9:00, and was mainly full of perigrinos, some of whom we knew. We were all anxious to see what the end of the world looks like, but didn't choose to complete the journey on foot for various reasons.

Apparently only a small percent of pilgrims that walk to Santiago carry on to Finisterre. The Catholic Church didn't recognize this as part of the St. James Way (it may now, not sure) because of its pagan connotations, but you now receive a certificate if you complete this last 150km from Santiago.

Our first stop was Ponte Maceira, with a beautiful medieval bridge, and a waterfall that spans almost the entire width of the river.

After 39 days on the Way with virtually no rain, it hasn't stopped raining (on and off) since we got to Santiago.  But as our guide pointed out, if you don't like the weather in Galicia, just wait five minutes.  And that was the truth of it as the fog, rain and sun came and went all day.

As we drive to Muros, a typical Galician fishing village, we passed through Paxareiras, where we have an excellent view of a long stretch of the coast.  This area, as the tour guide pointed out to us, was voted one of the best beaches in Europe.  The sand looked great but watching the Atlantic waves made one think it might be a wee bit chilly.  She also pointed out the stretch of the beach that is used for "natural" bathing, nude in our lingo. Apparently very common in Spain.

Muros is far enough from civilization and has a poor enough road access that it has remained much the same as it was 100 years ago.  We passed many quaint houses that looked like they had been there for 100 years, and likely were.

Most of us pilgrims ended up in the medieval church - it's what we do. It had beautiful stained glass windows, looked very used by the locals, and was being adorned with flowers for a wedding that was going to take place later today.

After visiting countless rural churches that look more like museums and smell of mold, it was heartwarming to see one that was obviously a well attended place of worship.

Next on to the Ezaro waterfalls on the Xallas River.  These have an interesting story behind them.  It seems the local hydroelectric company decided to build a third dam, which would have stopped the falls.  An environmental group took the company to court, and won, and the falls flow still. That too was heartwarming. In most of the world it's almost unheard of for a group of concerned citizens to win out over  the economic concerns of a large corporation. The tragedy of Empire.

Then to Finisterre, and you can see why the ancients thought this was the end of the world.  You look west, and there is nothing.  So how would you know that the sun hadn't died when it set and sank into the sea?

Pilgrims of old, and some still today, perform three rituals upon reaching Finisterre:bathing in the ocean; burning their clothes (a form of purification - can't help thinking it would get rid of any remaining bed bugs too); and, watching the sun go down in the west. Centuries ago, many people would go there as well, to die when they decided they'd reached the end of their life.

There is a cave in Finesterre into which the sun shines directly during the spring Equinox. Couples who have trouble conceiving apparently go to the cave and make love to overcome the problem.

Lynn thought the end point would be at sea level on the ocean, but it was at the top of a mountain. As the bus drove up the extremely steep slope of that hill, we could see the pilgrims slogging up along side. The final mountain to climb at the end of life.

Then back on the bus and off to lunch.  The problem is that in Spain lunch happens at 2pm, when North Americans are starting to wonder what is for dinner.  Of course we had sea food, starting with soup.  Throwing caution to the wind, we ate what was there.  Shrimp, clams, squid, octopus and  other unidentifiable seafood.  All good, just very, very odd looking.  The main course was grilled sole and hake, which sounded familiar and promising but was a bit of a disappointment: too much oil and full of bones.

Next stop, Muxia, probably best known to us as the location where Martin Sheen threw his son's ashes into the sea, in the movie The Way.

You better be facing the right direction as the wind is fierce.  The rocks, all granite, and the sea are incredible.  There is a huge flat stone, called the Pedra de Abalar, which "moves" should a warning of impending danger be required.

There is the Pedra dos Cadris, or kidney stone shaped rock rock, which one is supposed to crawl under and over nine times to cure what ails you.  Although if you can do it nine times, there can't be much wrong with you. Pilgrims also receive a certificate if they travel here.

Muxia is also the birthplace of the horreos, or grain storage bins we have seen in Galicia.  They seem to have two forms of decoration on top; a cross and/or pointed top.  The Christian cross and a pagan symbol of fertility.  Christianity may not run quite as deep as you would think in parts of Spain.

Then back to Santiago, with the realization that our time in Spain, and abroad in general, was about to end.

This is now the last posting in our blog. We have enjoyed sharing our adventures in Spain with you, our friends, along the Way. It has helped us sort through our thoughts and feelings, and left us with a written journal of our days on the Camino.

We came on this journey seeking divine guidance and transformation. As Brierley quotes, 'it is time to stop being the person you once were and start being the person you have become'.

Amen.