The Camino de Santiago: Walking to the End of the World
Would you believe it if I told you my friend and I decided to keep walking after Santiago de Compostela?
That’s right… even though we had walked from Portugal to Spain we hadn’t had enough of the Camino de Santiago. We were determined to end our caminos at the end of the world in a place called Cape Finisterre.
Before our Camino trip, when we were just in the planning stages, we had both read about Finisterre.
We easily came to the agreement that we wanted to walk further and finish our walk there. This place sounded fascinating!
In Roman times they believed it was the end of the world since it was the furthest point they could walk out to. When the sun dipped over the edge of the ocean at night, they thought it was the edge of everything. The place became officially known as the end of the world, and it is believed people made a pilgrimage there even before the Camino de Santiago existed. In fact, ancient Celtic tribes used it as spot for rituals and ceremonies. Later, many medieval pilgrims continued their walk to Finisterre instead of ending it in Santiago de Compostela. We both decided ending our walk at the end of the world just felt right.
So we bounded out of Santiago de Compostela early one morning, feeling so refreshed from our rest day and all the celebrations with our dear Camino friends. We were eager to see the coast, so excited to be starting the last leg of our journey. With starry eyes, we had no way to know that we were about to be faced with the most difficult days of our entire Camino.
Our troubles began before we even got out of Santiago. The cafe we planned to stop at was closed. It was the only cafe we passed before leaving town. We ended up walking around 12 km before we came upon another cafe. We hadn’t had food or coffee, and we had already walked half of our day! No food for a pilgrim is a grievous error, and “before coffee” is not a phrase I’m familiar with.
I don’t remember much about that morning; it’s all hazy. But I do remember we finally came upon a cafe where we ordered roughly four coffees, two orange juices, three breakfasts, and some pastries between the two of us.
Once we were fed and caffeinated I started to notice the scenery. It already looked very different from the scenery on the Portuguese way. It was more remote, quiet, and open- truly beautiful farm land.
I also started to notice the heat. Our beloved cloud cover hadn’t followed us from Portugal, and it was starting to get hot.
In this sunny dusty farmland it didn’t take long for us to notice another adversary- allergies. They quickly attacked us.
So there we were, determined to make it Finisterre despite the heat, allergies, and long stretches of walking between civilization.
Honestly these walking days were the most difficult of all our Camino- a sharp contrast to the dreamy easy days on the Portuguese Way. But I began to appreciate the difficulty. We fell into silence more often than before. As much as we both love talking, we had to conserve energy and focus simply on walking. I began to relate to the pilgrims of days gone by. I couldn’t imagine the conditions they had put up with in their determination to make it to the end of the world.
I began to listen to my own thoughts. I began to simply walk.
On the second day, the strangest thing happened. We found our stride. We leaned into the long quiet days.
(Usually it was just the two of us for long stretches of walking, so different from the full days on the Portuguese Way where we saw different friends all day along the way.)
On a typical Camino day, we aimed for around 20 km, never near 30. On this day we kept checking in with one another at each town asking, “Should we stop here?” But we both kept feeling like walking more. Before we knew it, we had walked 32 km (almost 20 miles)! A camino record for us. We fell on the floor of the albergue that afternoon when we finally did stop, feeling exhausted but so accomplished.
This is a typical second breakfast on the Camino. Isn’t it amazing? I fell in love with the fresh orange juice along the way. Citrus trees grew all over Portugal and Spain, and the little bars and cafes all offered fresh o.j. It was the best pick-me-up.
We reached a fork in the road. From here we could either walk to Fisterra or Muxia. Turning towards Fisterra put a spring in our step. It meant we were that much closer to the coast; the water was calling us.
Spanish Sasquatch? Some things on the Camino remain a mystery.
Hot, hot, hot. Trudge, trudge, trudge. We walked on in silence, conserving energy. “Get to the coast,” echoed in our heads.
We began to catch glimpses of Cee, the town we planned to stay in that night. The town with a beach and cool water. The last town we would sleep in before we walked to Fisterra. The end of my Camino was so near.
We stopped for some fresh orange juice. The heat was melting us.
Cee. I have the most sparkling memories of this place. It was a refuge to two sun-weary pilgrims.
We found an albergue, chunked our backpacks, ate the largest pilgrim lunch we had encountered yet at a family-run bar, and practically ran to the water.
I don’t think I’ve ever jumped in more refreshing water than this tiny bay in the center of this tiny town.
We kept wandering back to the water. It was a hopeful reminder that we were so close to the end of the world.
Fortunately, our walk out of Cee on our last morning of the Camino took us around the little harbor. We had plenty of time to wish Cee farewell as the last tinges of sunrise kissed the sky.
We were walking to Finisterre that day! Our last day on the Camino de Santiago.
Our last morning on the Camino was absolutely beautiful. Expectation crackled in the air. Our beloved cloud cover returned. The water peeked at us along the way. We stopped for mid-morning coffee at the fanciest restaurant on a beach. Paid a euro for a cafe. The bartender wished us “buen camino” as we left. Perhaps our last “buen camino” from a stranger along the way?
That’s it! Our first glimpse of Cape Finisterre.
Finally we arrived in this quaint town perched on the edge of Spain- Finisterre! It immediately felt like a place that was torn between two worlds. A small fishing town full of seasoned locals meets a busy tourist town at the end of the Camino de Santiago.
For the last time we did our tasks: we found an albergue, washed our clothes, hung them to dry, and went out to explore the town.
We planned to walk out to the Cape and officially end our Camino the next day as we were staying an extra day in Finisterre.
Even though we were technically going to the end of the world the next day, walking into Finisterre felt like a huge accomplishment. We marked the occasion with delicious food and Sangria from the cutest little shop.
And, of course, by going to the beach.
Pro tip: celebrate with gelato whenever possible.
How lucky am I to have the kinds of friends who want to go on these types of big adventures?!
The next day, on what we considered a rest day, we took the short stroll out of town up to the lighthouse on Cape Finisterre. The actual end of the world.
I’ve never been anywhere quite like Cape Finisterre. It felt heavy: it was almost as if you could feel the weight of all the pilgrims who had come before you. It felt ancient, like it had barely changed since the Celts used it for rituals hundreds of years ago. And it was so quiet: a reverent silence hung over the whole place.
The moody weather seemed to fit the place so well. I couldn’t imagine seeing it any other way, and I was glad for the clouds that day.
I sat there on this cliff on the edge of the world and sank into the silence, marveling at my feet. They carried me here- over 300 kilometers/ 200 miles- my two little feet in those trusty shoes. Right then my Camino truly felt complete for the first time, and the reality of what I had accomplished began to sink in.
After we spent some time sitting in silence at the true end of our Camino, we walked back to town and celebrated in the most fitting way- at yet another cafe with coffee and pastries.
My first Camino de Santiago adventure was truly over, but my adventures with my best friend weren’t. We hopped on a bus back to Santiago de Compostela where we shopped for a bit since we no longer had to worry about the weight of our packs and paid another visit to our favorite coffee shop, Ratiños Coffee Shop. Then we headed to the airport to catch a flight out of Santiago.
We sat in the terminal watching all the pilgrims scurrying off to flights to different parts of Europe. Sometimes we recognized someone from along the way and waved to them. It felt so final knowing we would no longer be among a sea of fellow pilgrims everywhere we went. But there was no time to be sad: we were off to Marseille to meet up with a third best friend!
