I was up early as is the habit now, to get a few jobs done. First stop was the post office to send some of the contents of my backpack home so I don’t raise the ire of the Santiago based Ryan Air ground hostesses. Here I ran into Sinead who was doing the same thing - sending her hiking boots home by sea - I don’t think she ever wants to see them again!!!. We were given the same type of boxes to pack the goods in but different documentation to fill out - have no idea if we will ever sight our stuff again!

Then I rushed off to the cathedral for the pilgrim’s Mass. Sinead warned me to get there early if I wanted a good seat so I arrived for the 12pm Mass at 10.45. There was seating on both sides of the altar as well as in front of it. I managed to find an aisle seat in the 6th row from the front.

High on the ornate, gilded altar stood a bejeweled statue of St James and those sitting in the church could clearly see people climbing the steps at the rear of the altar and standing behind the statue to ‘embrace’ St James. The tomb of the saint lies in a crypt underneath the altar.

The service commenced on time and the huge cathedral was so packed that there didn’t even look to be any standing room left. Mass was a spectacular religious celebration and a performance worthy of the Sydney Opera House. The service is held every day during a Holy Year which is whenever St James’s Day falls on a Sunday.
. I counted more than 30 priests, at least 4 bishops, altar-boys and a young nun with the voice of an angel leading the singing. The countries represented by those who walked into the city in the previous 24hrs were read out. There was so much theatre, pomp and ceremony that I am sure every person present would have paid an entrance fee if requested!

I recognized one of the bishops on the altar as a man I had walked with on the Camino and found out later that he was the Bishop of Mexico City - I wish I could remember what I spoke to him about!.

While Mass was being celebrated  more priests entered the cathedral and sat on pews in front of the altar. They each held a sign indicating the languages they spoke and then heard Confessions with the congregation looking on and with surprising little privacy. All thirty + priests were involved in distributing Communion which took almost half an hour. The highlight of the ceremony followed.

Secured to a thick rope attached to the lofty arched roof of the cathedral and hanging some 10 metres above the altar was a large, silver, urn shaped ‘botafumeiro’ or incense burner. The heavy burner is moved by 10 men operating a rope and pulley system and all clad in the style of a monk. The burner was carefully lowered to the front of the altar and lit with great ceremony. The ten men then got to work on the pulley and the botafumeiro swung higher and higher, back and forth under the arches like a giant pendulum, out and above the heads of the congregation, most of whom were watching in awe.  After some minutes the botafumeiro was gradually slowed and returned to its ‘resting’ position. In a procession of red and white and with the smell of incense drifting through the cathedral, the priests, bishops and other clergy  ceremoniously filed down the aisle and out of the cathedral. I think I could safely say that everyone inside was disappointed when the service came to an end - I certainly was.

After Mass I joined a long queue to ‘embrace’ St James and visited his tomb in the crypt. Then it was off to explore Santiago, an ancient old city of monasteries, churches and religious monuments and numerous souvenir shops selling all sorts of goods and souvenirs invoking the Camino.

At last - after 5 long and sometimes difficult weeks I finally got to walk into Santiago. It was a 19km trek from Rua and I started out early determined to take it slowly and imprint as many pictures of this final day on my mind as possible. After a couple of kms the Camino wandered through a forest of gum trees, some of them looking tall and healthy and very much at home. Closer to Santiago the farms and rural hamlets gave way to factories and industry and large modern homes on expansive green acreage.

In ancient times it was a tradition for pilgrims to wash in a stream at Lavacolla before entering the city. At Monte do Gozo 5 kms out, a large statue of 2  pilgrims stood on top of a hill from where those on the Camino could catch their first sight of Santiago. Dozens of pilgrims were resting here, some reluctant to end their pilgrimage and sad that it is almost over. Many were staying one last night here, even though Santiago is only 5 kms away. I think quite a few will find leaving the Camino a bit of a culture shock. However, for this pilgrim it is quite the opposite. I am over the moon with happiness, joyful that in my own way I finally completed this arduous journey and with God’s help managed to cope with the hardships and difficulties along the way. And I am looking forward to returning home to the people I love.

I  have also been thinking of past pilgrims, many of whom completed this journey under  harsher and more difficult conditions than I endured. They walked without the assistance of Kathmandu or Paddy Pallin and without modern walking aids and accoutrements - or pilgrim’s hostels in which to spend the night. How admirable was their journey?

I came across Josie in a cafe and as she was staying at Monte de Gozo for the night,she was in no hurry today. We met up with honeymooners Michaela and Eric in another cafe and they  are finishing the Camino to-day. We mightn’t see them again so had a photo taken together.

I spoke to a man from Germany who apologized for being in such a hurry - his girlfriend was taken to a hospital in S d C last night with an infected foot and he wanted to get there as soon as possible.

I walked the last 5kms alone following the signs and yellow arrows to the cathedral, the spires of which were visible from a couple of kms away. It was Sunday and there were crowds of people walking up and down the narrow stone streets and every pavement cafe was full. Santiago was buzzing! I walked down a flight of stone steps under an archway and turned into the enormous plaza where the front entrance to the cathedral is located and I just stopped in my tracks and stood in awe. Standing majestically on one side of the huge square, the cathedral, a mega-structure of towers and bells, spires, statues and enormous doors carved in intricate detail, totally dominates the old town. With a new found burst of energy and forgetting all about the feet, I bounded up the steps to go inside and give thanks for arriving safely and for the considerable help I received along the way (during the journey I often thought of that lovely poem, Footprints in The Sand).  However, I was told by an official that I couldn’t take my backpack inside so retreated to find the pilgrim’s office instead. How appropriate that I bump into another Aussie. It was David who saw me coming in and he walked with me to the pilgrim’s office, which is a little hard to find.  Had my pilgrim’s passport checked and after walking from one side of Spain to the other was finally presented with my Compostela. Wow - how happy am I!

I was excited to meet Sinead who arrived in Santiago yesterday and we had a celebratory drink (or 3) with Bert from Scotland (this Scotsman insisted on shouting) and Jennifer from New Zealand. We enjoyed a pilgrim’s meal with Marie-Claire from Nice and her French friend Claude and bumped into other friends including Eva-Marie and Yvonne from Sweden and two of Sinead’s cycling pals.  By this time it was around midnight and I was more than ready for bed.

Tomorrow is a big day and I will follow the traditions and customs of the Catholic Church to gain the indulgences offered to those who walk the Camino. This includes attending the pilgrim’s Mass in the cathedral at 12pm tomorrow as I arrived too late for to-day’s Mass, and going to Confession. So now, amigos I’m off to find a Spanish speaking priest!

Foootprints in The Sand (excerpt)
You promised me Lord,
that if I followed You,
You would walk with me always.
But I have noticed during
the most trying periods of my life
there have only been
one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most
have You not been there for me?

The Lord replied,
‘The times when you have
only seen one set of footprints,
is when I carried you.’                            Mary Stevenson

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Had a great night in Arzua. As it happened Spain was playing Chile in the World Cup. The cafe/bar of the hostel where I was staying was packed with people I had walked with today and everyone was in high spirits. When Spain scored the first goal the room erupted as it did when they won. There were hugs, back-slapping and more drinks all round before I finally managed to sneak up to bed. David, my Aussie walking friend partied on in true Aussie style.

It was only an 18km walk to Rua to-day and after the hard 28kms yesterday and with the celebrations last night, I  am afraid I didn’t prepare myself - psyche myself up. The Camino is as much mental as physical and mind and body both need to be prepared before setting out. However, the spirits lifted when I found a gorgeous big gum tree growing proudly by the side of the Camino and many others along this section of the route.

So even though I met up with Eva-Marie and Yvonne from Sweden, a couple of fun Scotsmen Bert and Brian, Maggie and French friend Christiana in the various cafes along the way, I found the walk hard going and the feet misbehaving.  I came across Josie again and she said she is feeling sad that it it is all coming to an end, as all going well we will reach Santiago to-morrow. I won’t know how I feel until I get there - I’m just thinking about walking the final 19kms - knowing the Camino, it will present its own challenges.

I am staying in a rural pensione in the hamlet of Rua and this afternoon caught another glimpse into  Spanish family life. I had just arrived at the hostel, tired and hungry and was sitting in the garden waiting for the first course of the lunch-time menu of the day when dozens of cars arrived carrying numerous people wearing their (Saturday) best and all quite excited. One young lady was resplendent in pure white  and a Spanish man at the next table told me it was a First Communion celebration. He made the comment that in Spain a First Communion is almost as big a celebration as a wedding! When I came down again at 8.00pm for some tapas and a glass of vino blanko they were still making speeches and having quite a party. The Spanish sure know how to celebrate!

There was no pilgrim’s Mass celebrated in Rua as it is only a tiny settlement, so will have to wait for Santiago tomorrrow and ‘the’ pilgrim’s Mass in the local cathedral - provided I get there on time!

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There were hills and more hills today and in 37 degree heat the Camino proved to be testing once again.

The companionship along the way really helps when the going gets tough and thank goodness I could suss out some English speakers. Janessa and Daniel from Philadelphia, Michaela and Eric from Michigan who are walking the Camino as part of their honeymoon and Maggie, a sweet young girl from Poland who was having a bit of trouble with her knee. This expert advised her and I was glad I had my knee suppport to give her. It must have worked because she reached Arzua well before me.

Also walked with some fun Swedish ladies, Eva-Marie and Yvonne who speak excellent English and who started in Sarria. Like me they like to stop often for a coffee/tea or a cold drink. Eva-Marie is suffering from terrible blisters.

The large town of Melide has many good cafes and bars and many pilgrims break their journey to Arzua, here as the twon also has a plentiful supply of hotels and hostels. Melide’s restaurants are famous for octopus or ‘pulpi’. The Pulperia a Garnacha is situated on the corner where the Camino joins Melide’s main street, the Avenida de Lugo. The restaurant/cafe has an open front window manned by a nimble-fingered chef who expertly chops up a seemingly endless supply of huge octopuses to satisfy lengthy queues of hungry pilfrims.  See photo.

Friend Sinead walks in to S d C tomorrow which will be such a great thrill after all the hard physical and mental work. We are hoping to meet and compare notes on Sunday (over a bottle of excellent vino blanko, I expect).

Got my kms mixed up in previous blog. It is now less than 40kms to Santiago de Compostela.

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Since leaving Sarria there has been an exodus of pilgrims on the Camino.  In fact I could have been at a fashion parade for Paddy Pallin or Kathmandu with all the shiny (and very full) backpacks, trousers with carefully ironed creases and spotlessly clean hiking boots (and sand shoes, which is a bit of a worry on this route). They looked just as I did when I started this journey all those weeks ago in St-John.  Now I look like some sort of weathered, down and out itinerant!

Sarria is approx. 100kms from Santiago and the closest place to Santiago from where a pilgrim can walk to earn a Compostela and be awarded the indulgences offered by the Catholic Church (Confession in S de C is also a requirement). This is the reason for the crowds who are now on the trail and also because every 10 years is designated a ‘Holy Year’ when extra indulgences are offered.

It was great to see so many kids walking with their mums and dads or in school groups. There was lots of chatter along the way,  a young man playing the guitar and much singing.

Met another 2 Aussies to-day. Bill is a strapping 6′4′, deeply tanned, solid, straight-talking young bloke from Darwin and he is walking with James, slight, thin, pale and straight out of a Tassie winter. Somehow, even though James takes 2 steps to Bill’s 1 they walk at the same pace.

The 23km walk was very pleasant with fewer dairy farms and now pine forests, meadows  of corn and a few chicken farms. The chicken farms looked modern and quite prosperous, probably because the Spanish just love their ‘huevos’. Marble factories are also starting to appear.

It is very warm here at the present time and hot, hot during the afternoon. There were plenty of cafes along to-day’s route which provided welcome shelter and refreshment.  Made it in to Palas do Rei at 5.30 and after a long, hot soak found ‘hamburger’ on a local menu. It was so good I was tempted to order a second. I was joined by Pieter and Victor, friends from Romania who ordered giant platters of ‘jamon’ and cheese. I probably won’t see these two young men again as they walk between 35 and 40kms each day!

Early to bed - a long, hard 28kms for me to-morrow and then less than 40kms to SdC. Whoo hoooooo.

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When I arrived in Sarria I just had to do something about my feet, so I went to a farmacia and bought a roll of gauze bandage. Band-aids, Compeed and Elastoplast are not working on my blisters so need to try something new.

Before I left for Portomarin (24kms) I carefully wrapped up each sore toe, and it seemed to work. Wore 1 sock on the sore foot instead of 2 and left the lace loose and undone.  When I arrived in Portomarin, no further damage had been done .

In the interests of actually finishing this pilgrimage, and because the feet were such a problem I decided to send my backpack on by car. This is a 3 euro service from most hotels and it certainly made things a lot easier. The feet said ‘thank you’.

Thankfully, there were a good number of cafes and bars along the way and an interesting art studio called Peter Pank Artesania which is located in an old stone building near Mercadoiro where all sorts of arts and crafts relating to the Camino are on display.

It was an absolute privilege to walk through Northern Spain and rural Galica on a glorious day like to-day. The Camino twisted and turned through rural backyards and observant pilgrims could get an intimate glimpse into Galician country life. Husband and wife teams tended crops and vegetables, children swept up  cow pats, clothes were hung out to dry, wood was stacked, hay was being harvested and a gentle old lady appeared with an offering of her home made tortillas which she sprinkled generously with sugar.

Lunch was eaten by a running stream amongst the earthy scent of cattle, chicken coops, grass and yes, manure. I took lots of photos because I just want to remember this beautiful walk and everything I have seen along the way. The green and peaceful surroundings continued until reaching the long bridge spanning the Río Miño. Then it was a steep climb up a rather intimidating stone staircase to reach the little town of Portomarin.

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Up early for a 20km walk to Sarria. Again the glorious countryside made walking a pleasure. The track was steep and rocky as usual but the luxuriant arms of giant chestnut trees provided welcome shade.

The trail meandered through fields and meadows and tiny rural hamlets, silent but for the regular tapping of pilgrim’s walking sticks and otherwise peaceful until at least 10am. After 10 the cafe doors open to the relief of those who had been walking since sunrise.

Forced to walk slowly I was totally enjoying the scenery. Dietmar from Germany joined me for a while. He was worried about his very white legs getting sunburnt, so I lent him some of my Sunsense.  He told me that 4 years ago he had serious bowel cancer and had since recovered. He was walking the Camino to give thanks for his recovery. Dietmar went ahead and alone on this magical walk I found the act of putting one foot in front of the other quite meditative and walked on and on lost in my own thoughts. When I finally took notice I realised I was not on the Camino anymore - I had obviously missed a turnoff and a little yellow arrow and was lost!  I was on a deserted country road with signposts to places I didn’t recognize and no passing people or traffic.  I walked on hoping to come to a village where I might be able to get directions. However,  after another hour of walking I had no luck. On further and I could see houses a few kms away so headed for them. I was tired, hungry and should be in Sarria. This is when I started to say some prayers. I prayed for a taxi to miraculously appear and spirit me off to Sarria asap. The thought crossed my mind that if God wanted me to take a taxi He would send one or if He wanted me to find my own way out of this situation then no taxi would be forthcoming.

Then something truly amazing happened. After not seeing a passing car for so long I could suddenly hear the sound of a car engine in the distance. I prayed (but not very hopefully) that this would be my cab. It came closer and I could finally see the car in the distance. More prayers! Finally it came around the corner and to my complete astonishment I saw the unmistakable ‘taxi’ sign on the roof. My heart did a few very big leaps and I began waving like a maniac. The taxi lurched to a stop which was when I noticed a passenger in the back seat. I indicated to the driver that I needed to go to Sarria. He indicated that he would come back for me in 10 minutes after he had dropped his passenger off.

So I downed the backpack under a shady tree, took out a couple of muesli bars and an orange juice I kept from breakfast and tried to relax while I waited and waited……..
Half an hour went by and I seriously started to give thought to plan 2. I hadn’t got very far when I heard the sound of a car engine and it was getting closer. More prayers and then I finally saw a speeding taxi coming towards me. The driver stopped and threw my backpack in the boot. Overcome with the most heartfelt joy and relief I wanted to envelope him in a giant bear hug a la Mass last night. However, with considerable difficulty I managed to retain my dignity and just slid gratefully into the back seat.  With a little help I made it to Sarria!

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Today’s walk covered 20kms over and around the Galician mountains and through tiny stone hamlets and somewhat sleepy, silent villages.

A new wildflower presented itself - bluebells were peeking shyly from clusters of yellow and white daisies creating a palette Aussie artist Ken Done would appreciate. Woody glades of chestnut trees shaded much of the route and a dead-pan monotone of cow ‘gongs’ echoed in the distance. Spanish cows wear gongs and not sweetly tinkling cowbells!

After 7 or 8 kms I came to 2 cafes clearly catering to the passing (foot) traffic as they were situated opposite each other on the Camino, in the middle of nowhere and both were full of pilgrims. I noticed one lady arriving by car and unloading beer and filled bread rolls which were devoured by the 4 male pilgrims who arrived off the Camino a little later.

There were more cows than humans  on the route to-day and one very large bull who I came face to with as I came around a blind corner. I was a bit worried about my red backpack at such close quarters, so sidled past this big boy, crablike just in case. However, he feigned total disinterest and remained studiously aloof as he continued on his way to somewhere.

Arrived at Triacastela hot and tired and bumped into my German friends who were having a cold drink in a street cafe and who invited me to join them. Dietmar, Karl and Nicole met on the Camino and spend a lot of time together as they live quite near each other somewhere in Bavaria. When they ordered a big plate of what looked like giant octopus tapas, I took my leave. We met again at the 7pm pilgrim’s Mass in the village church, which turned out to be a rather surprising event.  The priest who celebrated Mass called for a representative from each country present to sit on the altar. I was the English speaking rep., and during Mass we were each asked to read a prayer in our native language. Then came the Sign of Peace. Father indicated that he wanted no limp handshakes and proceeded to demonstrate how it was to be done. He threw his arms around the rather surprised French rep. and enveloped her in the biggest bear hug ever - so it was bear hugs all round! Father referred to the Camino as being ‘inclusive’ and when some people like to exclude others the Camino shows us otherwise. A nice little lesson from the pilgrim’s Mass.

My pension in Triacastela was very comfortable and my quiet, end room overlooked a small farm where an elderly couple toiled in their substantial and by the size of the spinach, productive vegetable patch until dark.

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It was a long, tough walk to-day - 30 kms to the mountain hamlet of O’Cebreiro. For some of the way the Camino followed a national road. The motorists were lucky - they could drive through the mountains, pilgrims had to walk up and over them. However the fitness is kicking in and these days I just accept the hills and the steep mountain tracks and just keep on walking. Uplifting, clean-cut mountain scents kept me going to-day - herbs, flowers, cut grass, freshly rolled hay and coming through Las Harrieres at 3pm the aroma of Sunday lunch bubbling away on someone’s stove. Carpets of yellow, white and red wildflowers and clusters of lanky, purple hyacinths ensured a feast for the eyes.

About 10 minutes after I left the village on a tarmac road I heard the sound of an ambulance or police siren coming from the area of Las Harrieres. Some 15 minutes later an ambulance roared up the (narrow) Camino and flew past me at great speed. Hope it wasn’t anything too serious.

Walked through 7 or 8 villages and hamlets to-day and stopped at most for a drink or a snack. Lunch was not only filling but memorable. I was with Josie and left it to her to order the sandwiches - slices of thick, crusty mountain bread sprinkled with Spanish olive oil and  filled with ‘Jamon’ (thin slices of cured ham) and a handful of olives on the side. A cold beer would have been nice but mindful of a big climb ahead had a tea and coffee instead.

Josie went on ahead as she wanted to stop at La Faba, 5 kms before O’Cebreiro and she was worried about finding accommodation. The 6kms up over rocks and stones to La Faba was incredibly difficult though shaded with the branches of chestnut trees.

After a drink in the village I tackled the last 4kms to O’C, again an uphill, rocky road. Finally and with great relief I walked into O’Cebreiro to discover that it is quite a tourist attraction. Tourists outnumbered pilgrims and this little stone hamlet, with spectacular views on either side is well set up to cater for both with cafes, bars and souvenir shops.

Thr 7pm Sunday Mass in the local church was crowded with tourists, pilgrims and locals and I am sure the village must have appeared totally abandoned for at least an hour. It seemed the perfect way to end a great day.

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A rest day in Ponferrada did wonders for the feet, the weary bones and for the spirit as well. Highlight of the day was a radio interview with Morris (never did get his last name) who hosts a travel show on Radio Europe. The GNAGB books have just been released here so chat was about them with a little of the Camino thrown in.

Now getting back to Ponferrada - the town is dominated by a most well preserved medieval castle. The old town is quite small and unfortunately has been spoiled by graffiti on almost every wall making the whole place look rather seedy. However, I did enjoy my day there and managed to have a look around.

Left at sunrise the next day for the 24km walk to Villafranca, which turned out to be one of the most pleasant days on the Camino so far. Wild cherry trees lined much of the route and while the fruit at the bottom of the trees had been picked already, being a tall pilgrim definitely had its advantages. There were heavily laden pear trees as well and the still maturing fruit should provide a treat for the August/September pilgrims. Some kms later on a quiet section of the Camino I came to a little cherry stand on the side of the road and a friendly local chap selling them for 1 euro per bag.  A bargain considering they were already picked!

Walked through largley rural areas where almost every home had a large veggie plot - saw some huge bunches of spinach! Passed an elderly couple trying to encourage a well-fed and disobedient cow to drag a plough through their veggie plot. Down the road the village church attracted the attention of those on The Camino as not only did it stand in the middle of the road, but a family of storks had set up house on the top of a pole in the churchyard. I met Eden as we were coming out of the church. It was terrific to meet someone who could speak English. Eden is studying for the priesthood at the Irish Seminary in Maynooth, and as I spent some time there last year having a look at the accommodation facilities available for tourists, we had something in common to chat about. However, I kept losing him as whenever we came to a church we would pop in. I would spend a few minutes and Eden would take so long that I would be forced to keep on walking without him. However, he walked quickly and would always catch up to me.  The last I saw him was in a cafe in Cacabelos when he wished me a most genuine ‘God bless’. He has the makings of a wonderful priest and I hope I meet him in Ireland in 3 years time when I can call him ‘Father.’

Then I met Josie, a no-nonsense, straight talking Dutch woman who told me that people do find love on the Camino. Apparently Josie walked for some days with another lady from the Nederlands. They were then joined by a Spanish man who told them he was just divorced and was on the Camino trying to find a new wife. Josie’s friend had also recently divorced. When they got to Leon Josie stayed at the pilgrim’s albergue while  the other two announced they were staying in a hotel. So I enquired ‘How did that go?’ I found Josie’s reply really funny because of the way it came out. She said ‘Oh she not like him anymore and they didn’t do nothing’.

And on that note its adios from me!

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