In Muxia

I have walked from Finisterre to Muxia (or the reverse) at least 5 times. 30 km, 600m. This time it was hard. The ascent at the end was a killer for me. If I’m lucky enough to walk this route again, I will split those 30 km in half. The little town of Lires, which used to have one old pensión and café, has had a small camino explosion.

The weather was fine, with a little drizzle as I left and a few drops as I arrived. But nothing in between. I took a detour to the Lires beach, hoping the bar would be open, but it wasn’t. So I sat on a bench, looking out at the beautiful water, chomping on some nuts and drinking water, instead of my longed-for Fanta de Limón.

I wasn’t feeling particularly social when I arrived, and after a good lunch alone of sea bass and razor clams, I walked out to the church on the rocky point. It’s a spectacular setting. The waves were ferociously pounding on the rocks and the tide was so high it would have been dangerous to walk out on any of them like I usually do. So I just sat, with the wind blowing like crazy and contemplated. The end of another walk —it always happens. No profound revelations after this month of walking, just a sense that life is good and that I am extremely lucky to have been able to walk another beautiful camino.

It’s raining here and it looks like sunset will happen behind a thick veil of clouds. But I’m not disappointed because this has been a really full camino.Les mer