The End of the Earth
June 24 in Spain ⋅ 🌫 19 °C
When I planned this trip I built in time at the end so that I could walk from Santiago to Fisterra, “the end of the Earth”, if I chose.
I chose not to.
It’s called the end of the earth because that’s what the early mapmakers thought; they walked to the edge and saw no more land, so the sun setting must be going down into an abyss. The Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela considers the shrine of St. James at the cathedral to be the official end, but many pilgrims keep walking to Fisterra and/or around to Muxia. That section has its own certificate.
Just because I didn’t want to walk an extra 110K doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see it. Bus tours go there regularly from Santiago, as do regular buses, if you don’t want to be herded around. With three of us, though, we could rent a car for about $95 and have total flexibility.
Kathy slept in while I went to Mass at the cathedral. Because it wasn’t the noon pilgrim’s Mass, it wasn’t very crowded; however, there was a group of teens there. It is a big deal at the cathedral to see the botafumeiro swing during Mass. It’s traditionally used on Holy Days, but groups can also pay to have it swung while they are there. (It takes six people to swing it!) The best view is from the side pews, so when that’s where the teens were sitting, I thought they were going to finally make themselves useful. They did not. No botafumerio.
I met Kathy and Mim outside their hostel. Mim had brought me tortilla and churros leftover from when she’d been out earlier. Second breakfast doesn’t usually come so soon, but I hardly objected.
We walked to the train station to pick up the rental car, then headed for Muxia, a small fishing town near Fisterra; the plan was to start there, then drive over to Fisterra for the beach and dinner. We had a great lunch sitting on a deck in the sun looking out over the water.
We walked around a bit, including down to the beach, but Mim and Kathy didn’t want to get wet before getting back in the car. By the time we got to Fisterra, though, it was chilly, windy, and almost completely fogged in. We walked up to the lighthouse and had coffee at the hotel on the cliff above. I imagine there would be an amazing view from there on a clear day.
We were too full from lunch to have dinner; instead, we drove back to Santiago along the coast, stopping at a couple of beach access points so they could at least put their feet in the water and we could have a drink. The day didn’t go quite as planned, but it was still great, and I’m so glad we went.
When we got back I desperately needed to do laundry.
I knew when I’d bought the skirt that I wouldn’t like it, and I didn’t wear it to the beach, but it did serve the purpose of giving me something to wear while every piece of hiking clothing I own was in the wash. I discovered that I was missing my blue sun shirt, a pair of underwear, and the one pair of socks that survived the Great Sock Cull of ‘26. I really can’t figure what happened to the shirt; it hardly ever came out of my pack, so when could I have lost it? I don’t mind, like I did my dress; I’m just flummoxed. The underwear I’m sure some poor housekeeper found hanging over a window handle to dry in some hostel. The socks I eventually found in the side pocket of my pack.
Tom and Yvonne finish tomorrow. Then it will really feel like it’s over, I think.Read more