October 14, 2022
- Route: Salceda to Santiago de Compestela
- Distance: 27.6 kilometers (17.1 miles)
- Cumulative Distance: 841.9 kilometers
I barely slept a wink last night. I was full of nervous energy, and was checking my watch every 20 minutes throughout the night.
I’m not sure whether my restlessness was due to the excitement of starting my last day on the Camino. Or whether it was the noise from the guy in the bunk beneath me (who was snoring like a champ). Or if it was the Darth Vadar noises coming from the pilgrim across the room whose sleep apnea machine was humming and whooshing all night (yes, someone actually brought a sleep apnea machine on the Camino!!).
Whatever the cause, I was up for good by 6:15 and walking out the door by 6:45 a.m.!
I didn’t get very far though before stopping. A cafe sat about 200 meters down the road, and it was already open for the early morning pilgrims. How could I pass up the chance to have a bold cup of espresso to combat my early morning grogginess?
As I waited for my drink, I joined a Japanese woman in her 20s and an older woman from Alabama with a deep twangy accent. Both of them were palpably excited to get walking to Santiago. Today was the day we’d all been walking for! The end was so near we could taste it.
California Caminos
After gulping down my coffee, I offered a ‘Buen Camino‘ to my fellow pilgrims, and set out in pitch black toward Santiago. But I wasn’t walking out here alone in the dark this morning. I could see the dim flicker of headlamps bouncing up and down somewhere up ahead of me. Everyone was eager to get moving, it seemed.
I caught up to a couple from central California who I’d met at the albergue last night. And somehow we ended up talking about longer trails near our respective homes.
During this exchange, they told me all about a new trail near them called the Camino de Sonoma, which was a 75-mile walk from the historic Mission San Francisco Solano (in Sonoma) to the Russian Orthodox Chapel (out on the Pacific Ocean).
And then went on to tell me about an even longer Camino-type walk called the El Camino Real, a roughly 800-mile route that connected the 21 Spanish historic missions along the California coast from San Francisco to San Diego. But it sounded like a lot of the route included long stretches of paved road walking between the missions.
Both caminos sounded quite interesting, and very different than the journey we were currently on. So I took a few quick notes on my iPhone to remind myself to look them up again when I got back home. I was forever looking for a new adventures. Especially ones that didn’t require me to change continents.
Light rain started to pelt me as I bid them goodbye and crested the next hill. Up ahead a warm glow of light coated the landscape in the far distance. Was that the lights of Santiago? Or just another town I’d pass through before I got there?
As I walked, my legs felt as if they were flying downhill toward the finish line of a race. Excitement and nervous energy flooded my veins. Then the darkness gave way to early morning twilight as the Camino repeatedly crossed under and over the highway.
The light rain fizzled out, but the humid warm moisture clung to the air. I looked around me, desperately wanting to recognize my surroundings and to be able to tell myself I remembered this trail from my Camino four years ago, but nothing felt the least bit familiar.
CAMINO TOURISTS
As I passed each new town on the way to Santiago, more pilgrims poured out of their albergues and folded into the conga line that led toward west.
Many of these people looked like “pilgrim tourists” heading to a pep rally for the Camino de Santiago. They wore their blue socks with yellow scallops on them. Or had Camino buffs, bandanas, and pins adorning their gear. Some even had Camino ponchos!
Their clean new shoes and their soft, unsculpted calves gave them away as newcomers. More than a few of these pilgrims even had knee braces protecting their joints from their recent surge in activity. My favorites were the pilgrims stolling along in their denim jeans and dress shoes.
I knew I shouldn’t feel annoyed by their presence. Their Camino journey was just as valid as mine, whether they walked 100 km or 1000 km. But that’s when it dawned on my why I hadn’t recognized any of my physical surroundings before. This final stretch of the Camino wasn’t about the terrain. All my memories were about the hordes of people I had to dodge and weave my way around.
I did eventually recognize one sight from my last Camino. It was a cafe from called Kilometro 15 – cleverly named to refect its distance from Santiago. And today a long line of people snaked out the front door for waiting to get their coffee or use the cafe’s stamp.
The Pilgrims’ Office in Santiago asked pilgrims covering the minimum distance to acquire at least two stamps each day for the final 100 kilometers of their journey. This request was an effort to prove these peregrinos actually walked the route.
It was too easy for faux pilgrims to just spend the night at an albergue, get a single stamp there, and then jump into a car or moped and ride to their next destination. Asking them to get additional stamps from the places they passed on foot was an effort to keep people honest about walking this journey.
But, it seemed as if there’s also a commercial aspect at play with the stamps too. Pilgrims were more than happy to plink down their Euros for a coffee or a slice of Tarta de Santiago if it meant getting a colorful or pretty sello (stamp) for their souvenir credential in the exchange.
THE AIRPORT
As I continued walking in the on-again, off-again morning drizzle, I could see the evidence of an airport nearby. Small airplanes seemed to either be climbing rapidly or descending on approach. This sign meant I had to be getting close to Lavacolla, where the airport serving Santiago was located.
I suspect the demand for flights departing Santiago is double or triple the number of people flying here. So many people needed to get back home at the end of their pilgrimage, but how many were really flying here, I wondered?
As I curved around the far end of the airport’s perimeter, I could see the line of people walking down the length of the the airport’s runway ahead of me. It was that similar feeling you get when running a 10k race and you see the race leaders turning the corner or doubling back toward the finish line. There was a crowd of people ahead of me and we were all heading to the same destination.
Mountain of Joy
At 10 a.m., I stopped for my first real break of the morning. I wanted to refuel with some coffee, but mostly I just needed a bathroom. There was nowhere to privately duck into the woods and pee with this many pilgrims constantly around! Plus, I just needed to rest from the stress of navigating a path through the crowd.
After my break, the rain rain began to pick up – fall slowly, but steadily. I watched as pilgrims stopped to pull out their rain jackets and pack covers. I left mine tucked away. Rain on the Camino was nothing new to me. And if I put on my jacket now, I knew I’d be more sweaty on the inside of it than dry.
Up ahead, I watched as a cluster of pilgrims spotted the 10-kilometer pillar and squealed in joy. Only ten kilometers left to go! It was a major cause for celebration to them, but only left me conflicted. I’d been this close to the end of many long trails before, and the only constant I felt was a sense of wistfulness. The end of a journey was always a bit sad for me.
Besides, I knew it was still too early to celebrate. We still had one more big climb to go into the foothills above Santiago. We needed to get to the Monte de Gozo (or Mountain of Joy) before it began to feel like a real ending to me.
On a clear day, you’re supposed to be able to see the spires from the cathedral in Santiago from the top of the peak. But today was overcast and cloudy, so I figured I’d just have to settle for taking my photos with the sculpture at the Monte de Gozo’s summit instead.
Yet when I got the top of the rounded peak, the monument was completely gone! All that remained was the base where it once stood.
What the heck?!? Where was the giant monument that once stood here? Had they moved it somewhere else? I scanned the surroundings below me, but I didn’t see it anywhere.
Meanwhile, there was a whole new village of buildings on the back side of the mountain. “This was all new,” I thought to myself. I certainly didn’t remember it from my last Camino four years ago. So much of the surroundings had changed in that short time since I was last here.
But then again, I’d changed so much since I was last here too!
SANTIAGO
The final five kilometers into Santiago was far easier and more laid back than I remembered. When I’d coming into town last time, the mid-afternoon heat was raging. I was hungry. I was immensely frustrated by the crowds. And I was completely overwhelmed by all my feelings, which is part of the reason I needed to to continue on to Finisterre.
But this time around, my expectations were different. I didn’t allow the Mardi Gras nature of this stretch of the Camino impact my experience in the least.
I just continued to follow the same yellow arrows and scallop shells toward the inevitable end of my pilgrimage. After 29 days, I was finally walking into Santiago de Compestela. The mountains were behind me. And so was the ocean. The blisters on my feet were healed. My shoes were falling apart. And my journey was at its end with just a few more steps.
With the knowledge of where I was headed, I quickly made my way to the cathedral to take some photos. But I didn’t stay long. I was more interested in finding my albergue, so I could drop my pack and shower, before heading to the same Italian restaurant where I celebrated my last Camino finish.
The food was still as good as I remembered, and I made sure to order a large glass of wine. I deserved it! I’d walked 842 kilometers across Spain to get here. The least I could do was toast my accomplishment.
I still had one last loose ned to tie up though. I needed to head down to the Pilgrim’s Office to finally get my compestela. I’d stop at the Italian restaurant to eat first because I knew what lay ahead. Back in 2018, it took three hours of waiting in an immensely long line that snaked though the Pilgrims’ Office to get my compestela. I wasn’t going there hungry.
But, much to my surprise, the experience was different this time around. The pandemic must have forced the Pilgrims’ Office into modernity. Rather than waiting in a long line on sore feet, all I had to do was scan a QR code and fill out an online form with all my relevant pilgrim data – my name, which route I took, where I began my Camino, what country I’d from, etcetera. And once I hit submit, I received a second QR code so I could enter the Pilgrims’ Office itself.
All told, it took less than 10 minutes before I was sitting in front of a volunteer who quickly scanned my code and pulled up all my pre-entered data. He asked me a few niceties then flipped though my credential to make sure it matched what I submitted online. And then he was filling my name into the certificates.
Easy as pie!! And certainly better than my experience four years ago.
CELEBRATION Time
With my compestela (and finisher’s certificate) in hand, I walked back past the cathedral once again. Staring up at the elaborate stone bell towers, it was hard not to compare my 2018 walk on the Camino Frances to my current journey on the Camino del Norte.
The last time I was here, I felt unsettled and anxious. I wasn’t ready for the Camino to end. Santiago didn’t feel right to me, and the only thing I knew for sure was my journey wasn’t over. I’d ended up packing up my bag and walking another 90 kilometers west on the Camino Finisterre until I reached the Atlantic Ocean and was finally at peace.
This time though, I felt 100% settled when I arrived in Santiago. I didn’t have the urge to keep going. I didn’t need to escape the city and head to the sea. I was satisfied with exactly where I was.
I returned to the albergue to tuck my compestela safely away in my belongings, and that’s when I discovered Joe (the pilgrim from New Jersey) was there too! After his trip to the Cruz de Ferro, he’d walked west to where the Camino Frances and Camino Primativo routes merged.
The Dutch gal that he’d waxed on about earlier was walking on the Camino Primativo, and he wanted to surprise her at the junction of the two trails. His planed reunion on the trail turned out well too! She was just as happy to see him again as he was to find her, and they walked the remainder of the way to Santiago together.
Joe introduced the two of us, and I could see his face was beaming. He was smitten with this woman, and I wished them both well.
But I still had one thing left to do to celebrate my own finish. I was heading to a small little spot nearby where I could celebrate this sweet ending in private. I was going out for churros and hot chocolate.
