We made it from Muxia to Cape Finisterre yesterday. The cape is about ninety kilometres from Santiago – the place where land ends and the ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see. The origins of the pilgrimage to Finisterre are mysterious, possibly dating back to pre-Christian times, when people would come to witness the “last sun of the day.” Cape Finisterre was the end of the earth. Those sailers who ventured out on ships 500 years ago, unsure if they would fall off the edge of the “dinner plate,” certainly were brave!

We had a lovely morning for our three kilometre walk from Finisterre to the cape. It’s hard to believe that by the time we walked back to town, we were in the midst of a downpour! Sadly, the skies were thick with clouds and the sun didn’t show up in the evening when we were hoping for a beautiful sunset.

The night before, when we were still in Muxia, we were treated to a spectacular sunset. From the top of Mount Corpiño, we waited as the sun inched toward the horizon. Then, in the final moments, we moved down to the rocks below the Santuario da Virxe da Barca, where we watched the sun melt into the sea.

Today we arrived back in Santiago – the final stop, the true end of our journey. I got my Compostela when we were here five days ago, and today Dave received his. It’s a simple but significant piece of paper that sums up so much more than the kilometres we’ve walked. It is something tangible to mark this adventure.

While Dave was hunkered down, out of the rain at Hospedaje Ramos, I found myself drawn to the pilgrim mass tonight. I went with two hopes: to hear that David Reano (or how many Canadians in total) arrived in Santiago today and to see the famous Botafumeiro swing. I wasn’t the only one thinking. “Will they swing it tonight?” The whole cathedral was holding its breath. Botafumeiro swung and I could hear the swoosh as it soared past my ear and up to the ceiling, maybe 19 times!

What struck me as odd, though, was the backpacks. When we were here just five days ago, we were turned away from entering the cathedral because we still had our backpacks on. Tonight, though, the place was scattered with pilgrims wearing backpacks as if it were no issue at all. Were the rules just a little more flexible tonight or were we just unlucky on our visit five days ago?

Tomorrow, the final leg begins: a bus ride to Lisbon, a night near the airport, and a flight back to Canada. First to Toronto for a family visit and then on to Victoria three days later.

Here’s a cringe-worthy but funny incident that happened to us in Muxía. We were enjoying a nice evening, waiting for our Nordes gin and tonics, when the waiter arrived with a tray. He took the wine glasses off the table and set them on his tray, but just as he was placing the big G&T glasses down, he knocked one of the wine glasses off the tray, shattering it noisily all over the table.

For a moment, the whole place seemed to freeze as we all stared at the mess. Then, as if nothing had happened, the waiter calmly gathered up the bigger shards, folded the placemat over the smaller pieces, and carried on pouring the gin! I was silently hoping he’d offer us a new table or at least fresh drinks, just in case any stray glass had found its way into the ice. But no, he simply continued with the service as though this were the most normal thing in the world.

We didn’t say much (the language barrier didn’t help), and despite our concerns, we ended up drinking the G&Ts. Thankfully, we lived to tell the tale—no harm done! It was one of those moments that was funny, even if we were a bit unsure at the time.