Finisterre

Not packing up in the morning and wearily plodding out the door felt strange. Despite my screaming foot the idea of resting felt restless and unproductive.

Our first day after reaching Santiago we headed to collect our Compostela and distance certificates and I teared up a bit as our credencials were stamped for the final time. I cannot imagine how hard that is for those who have walked the full route.

I was keen to go to mass and hopefully see the Botafumeiro so we went and crowded into the apse with the other pilgrims. The crowding and photo taking made it feel less spiritual than the mass at Monoñedo but I am still glad I went. I saw the botafumeiro but did not see it swing. One day.

That afternoon we had a celebratory lunch at the parador (further cementing my wish that I had just stumped up for the Parador in the first place) and then we toured the cathedral and its roof.

The next morning we booked onto a bus to Finisterre. I would love to walk this route but we didn’t really have the time and I don’t think my foot would have made it. My blister now covers both the ball and the arch of my foot and feels near full thickness at the arch.

I am not generally a fan of bus tours. I don’t like crowds and I don’t like forced itineraries but as far as they go this was really well done. Our guide Ashraf effortlessly switched between Spanish and English as he explained the route and the history and the significance.

It was a good tasting menu that ultimately made me wish I could slow it down and visit on foot. Highlights included the Ezaro waterfall (visited in the middle of the day so not great for photographs), Ponte Maciera, the Finisterre lighthouse and the Muxia lighthouse. We had a large seafood lunch and were sprayed by salt from the Atlantic. The muted arc of the horizon blurring with the sky and calling towards the sea.