September 26, 2018
- Route: Ferreiros to Palas de Rei
- Distance: 32.8 kilometers (20.34 miles)
Yesterday I passed two major landmarks on the Camino Frances. The first was the town of Sarria, where hundreds of pilgrims joined the Camino because of its proximity and range to Santiago de Compestela.
The second milestone was the 100-kilometer marker near Ferreiros. I’m now within 100 kilometers (or 62 miles) from the end of the Camino Frances. By my estimation, I’ll be having a celebratory glass of wine in Santiago in just a few more days. That is completely surreal!
When I started the Camino three weeks ago, reaching the end seemed so very, very far away. I couldn’t even fathom it. This is the longest I’ve ever continuously hiked. I’ve been averaging about 20 miles of walking a day without any days off, but I can’t complain. There have certainly been some conveniences along the way to make it far more comfortable than any wilderness thru-hike (easy access to food and water, albergues, warm showers, etc).
Feeling strong
I can tell my body is now physically stronger from the Camino, and my clothes are a little loose from all the exercise. But more importantly, my mind feels sharper. Spending all this time out walking by myself has done wonders for clearing my thoughts. Hours of contemplation and reflection have been good for my soul.
This hike was meant to be a transition for me. I officially retired from the Army on September 1st, and within a few short days I flew over to Europe to begin the Camino. This journey was designed to be mental boundary between my past life and everything that is to come in my future.
Unlike a lot of pilgrims, I didn’t come out here seeking answers to any profound questions. I already know what I want out of life. Nonetheless, I do feel as if I got something truly meaningful out of this Camino experience.
Perhaps the biggest gift I got was a renewed sense of excitement for what the world holds for me. This is just the first adventure of many, and I have a genuine sense of pride in seeing this personal goal to its end. I will always be able to reminisce about this experience and think of it fondly.
Big Changes
As upbeat as I am about my Camino experience, there is one aspect that’s not leaving me overjoyed. Now that so many pilgrims are flooding the Camino for this final 100-kilometer stretch, the vibe of this journey seems to have altered completely.
It’s as if I was running an ultramarathon for the past few weeks. There were a handful of others out there chugging along near me, but we were all hyper-focused on our own long journey. It was an odyssey of solitude and sober contemplation that each pilgrim had to complete on his or her own terms.
But now, the sensation and atmosphere of the Camino has changed. It no longer feels like that deeply personal path I was on. Instead of being an ultra-marathon, it now has the whimsy of a 5k family fun run on a Sunday morning.
All these new pilgrims are full of pep and excitement at beginning something fun and effortless. But, this attitude brings a completely different energy to this final leg of the Camino. As they chatter away and stroll along the path, they’ve seemed to have unconsciously disrupted the serene, reserved energy that the Camino had only days ago.
I felt so sorrowful about this change by mid-morning that I ended up stopping for coffee and posting the following confession on Instagram:
In a few days I will arrive in Santiago de Compestela, completing the 500 miles from St. Jean Pied de Port. I should feel ecstatic, but instead I feel a genuine sense of melancholy. My sadness is not just because I’m coming to the end of a great journey, but for how the last 100km feels. After weeks of solitude and scarcity, the Camino feels like it has changed. It’s flooded with new pilgrims whose goal is to walk just far enough to get their souvenir Compostela. Instead of the pilgrims molding themselves to the Camino and its challenges, the Camino seems to be transforming to accommodate the pilgrims. The commercial version of this final leg fills me with heartache. Thus, Santiago will just be another stop for me; and it’s why my Camino must continue to Finisterre. I want to end my pilgrimage without all the exuberance and pandemonium of the crowd. Feeling the ocean crash on my dirty shoes at the edge of the world is a more fitting conclusion to the Camino that standing in line for a piece of paper.
Finisterre?
So, yes, I publicly announced my intention to walk beyond Santiago and head all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. The Camino Finisterre is a 90-kilometer route that runs between Santiago and Spain’s western coast. Pilgrims can opt to end in the town of Fisterra at the infamous Faro de Finisterre (lighthouse at the end of the world) or conclude their Camino in the lovely coastal town of Muxia.
I’ve always secretly hoped I’ve have enough time during this journey to make it all the way to the ocean. I’m partial the idea of walking across the entire country of Spain from its mountain border to the sea. There’s a wonderful symmetry to it.
Ending my Camino in Santiago is no longer an option. I’m not ready for the Camino to be over quite yet. This was never a religious pilgrimage to get to the cathedral in Santiago. Nor was I seeking some sense of validation from seeing my name printed on a Compostela certificate.
My journey has always been about satisfying something internal. It’s been about learning to listen to my instincts again. I left behind the expectations of “what I’m supposed to do” in favor of doing what I want (or need) to do instead. And, simply put, my heart desires to walk to the ocean and look westward toward home. When I can’t walk any further, then my adventure will be over.
A sense of community
As I was deep in thought all day about this fundamental change in my itinerary, the miles flew by. The Camino’s terrain seem flat again, and my body is in such good condition that I seem to float along without much effort.
I eventually decided to stop for the evening in the town of Palas de Rei. It was a surreal sight to see groups of teenagers walking up to vans to fetch their suitcases and rolling them along the sidewalks to their albergues. I keep forgetting this is just a 5-day adventure vacation for many of them.
I kept walking until the Camino nearly left town before stopping at an albergue that has a bit of a storied reputation. The Casina di Marcello is run by a gentleman who was once an Italian chef. In addition to offering bunks for the night, he also cooks a communal Italian dinner for pilgrims.
The idea of eating a homemade Italian meal was just too much for me to pass up. Marcello turned out to be a lovely host, and the albergue was mostly filled with people who’d been on the Camino for weeks, not hours. I felt like I was back among my people again and truly enjoyed the dinner conversation and wine.
While today was a stark contrast to the three exceptional days preceding it, I seemed to have regained my sense of calm. The decision to walk the Camino Finisterre allowed my melancholic ache to dissipate, and once again I’m happy again.
