Baptism Day: December 7, 2010 Part 2

Finisterre

I leave this picture of the open windows from our hotel room. It was winter, but for these brief moments, the sun worked its magic and all hope and optimism returned to itself. We left that window open for new caminos and took with us the spirit of the pilgrim into a new form. In Spanish you do not say estoy peregrino (I am a pilgrim) which is the conditional, changing form of the be verb. Instead you say: soy peregrino (I am a pilgrim) in the sense of identity that never changes.

We got our final certificate as pilgrims to Finisterre, the true end of the camino; we had a lunch, that I sat and watched from the balcony of a little restaurant and strolled around this lazy little town before our bus would pick us up and take us back to Santiago. We were done walking but we had just begun our path of being pilgrims.

Soy peregrino!

Baptism Day: December 7, 2010 Part 1

Finisterre

I decided to rename this day: Baptism Day. Finisterre is the place for release and the place to find a new baptism; a washing, a purity.

I awoke in the night, after the celebration meal, including cigars, with that clear sense of foreboding the truth—I was getting sick and I could not stave off much time before I found myself in the bathroom working out the toxins quite forcefully.

It’s that state of suspension when you know something needs to be released and at some point, you have no volition left in the matter—life chooses it for you. This was that moment.

As I look back at the beginning of the walk, that first day and think of the grace that had surrounded us as we walked up the gentle farmlands above St. Jean Pied-de-Port. We seemed blessed with a beautiful day—though it turned out nearly deadly. Other days, like yesterday, were of that easy grace as we walked into this seaside town. And that grace turned violent and intense as I spent hours letting everything in my body wash out until I was empty such that when I woke up, I touched upon a new grace with the beautiful sea air and the sunshine and a gentle and steady recovery.

We had seen the French-English couple in Santiago and they said they’d picked shells, the scallop shells that were the symbol of this pilgrimage. We decided we’d do the same and headed to the sea, in fact, found our way to a corner less-traveled of this little beach, that took some adroit maneuvering to get to.

I’d already decided and promised myself I’d dive into the ocean fully as my final ceremony—my baptism as I begin a new life. Though when we arrived, there were rocks everywhere and the water was icy to my toes. But I kept exploring until I came upon a fresh beach that met the requirements. It was here we gathered shells abundantly and I found my courage to race into that frigid sea and wash myself clean.

Letting the pictures speak, I sat in the sun and just let myself soak it all up as my body dried with grace and warmth shining down on me for a few moments before she went behind the clouds.

Camino Day 44: December 6, 2010 Part 4

Cee to Finisterre

Grace descended as did the sun. A pinker, softer world emerged and relishing in it was all that was left to do.

I looked westward towards the Americas, towards yet another beach that I lived on in the other extreme western part of that continent. West was full of promise.

We were finally ready to engage with others and went for a little coffee at the lighthouse café. We sat also with our French friend we’d met back after leaving Santiago. We took pictures, we laughed. We were done! The only pilgrims with backpacks, we looked a bit odd. 

I asked if there was a room in the lighthouse inn, but it gets booked months in advance—that was yet another reason for walking the packs, just in case. So we walked back in the dark with our new French friend and Ariel. We’d find a hotel and call tonight our celebration meal Galician style. Antonio had written down several delicacies of the region on a napkin that I carried with me and we did our best to order several of them, along with abundant wine and desert coffees—the yummy one where they burn the sugar and add cognac to it (I must find the name). It was a feast and all the while we sat first next to an English-Spanish couple (the woman had lived in Spain for much of her adult life) and then came Ariel, the Spanish man from the night before and another friend as we were at desert.

We’d carried two Cohiba cigars across this country and tonight we lit and smoked them in celebration, basking in the fullness of completion.

Camino Day 44: December 6, 2010 Part 3

Cee to Finisterre

We’d already seen a double rainbow (a rainbow over another rainbow) while walking into Finisterre. As we approached the lighthouse, we looked up to see the miraculous rainbow that completely encircled the sun—a sun dog (sun halo)! That was an extraordinarily humbling experience as I grabbed my companion’s hand, and we walked to the windy end.

This is where I want to stop writing and just let the awe of the sky, the sea and breeze take over…

We would take our ritual. Signs everywhere said not to burn, but the ground and any bush around was burnt black. But we followed the request and rather took the object we’d release and took it to the tower. For me, it was those inner pants—my long underwear—that had served and symbolically were ready to be offered up here with great enthusiasm.

Camino Day 44: December 6, 2010 Part 2

Cee to Finisterre

As we approached the cape at the end of the earth, we ran into several friends. First the two men we’d seen the first day of the Finisterre pilgrimage. We walked together a bit. They were very relaxed and it turns out they’d rented a car and would drive to Muxia the next day and even invited us.

We’d made the decision that we’d gone this far and we would not look for a place to set down our backpacks for the night. No, we would keep pressing on with our backpacks till the end. This had the focused feeling we had as we came into Santiago. We would walk with these backpacks till the end!

It was at this final juncture in the city of Finisterre that I looked over and saw Ariel riding towards me. “Ariel!” I yelled.  He nearly jumped off his bike, and actually dropped it then and there. Ariel with his feet wrapped in plastic bags to stave off the mud of the trail. We were so excited—and again, as we were finishing—here was our friend!

He’d suffered through the storm on the way to Muxia and made it and here we were crossing paths at the ultimate point where we’d join to take the next kilometers along the narrow road, past the town to the end of the road; the end of the earth.

It it hasn’t been obvious, Finisterre literally means the end of the earth and was named as such by the Romans as the most westward piece of land. And as such, this pilgrimage, which includes Santiago, is also an older pilgrimage to where the sun disappears mysteriously behind the ocean. This is the ancient pagan place of ritual, mystery and magic. Exactly why St. James, Santiago, might have been attracted to proselytize in these lands that had such spiritual influence.

Ariel joined us, walking his bicycle these last steps with more and more dramatic views, including passing the beautiful pilgrim statue.

Camino Day 44: December 6, 2010 Part 1

Cee to Finisterre

The walk to Finisterre was not that far. We would cross from the seaside town of Ceé through a forest walk before we found ourselves reaching the ocean again and then walking alongside her for the next hours.

The weather was gloriously warm. Such that I actually took off my inside pant liners. Also because we reached the ocean relatively quickly again, it seemed that we’d not have far to walk from that point. But still, we walked and walked, crossing little villages. At some point, we crossed to the vista where the cape of Finisterre was clearly visible, with it’s dramatic cliffs—I felt a home like I’d felt the first time in Big Sur, California and they have such similarities with the cliffs that cascade to the sea.

Camino Day 43: December 5, 2010

Olveira to Cee

Major wind and rain storm with gusts of over 100 KPH. Fortunately I had a waterproof camera!

Camino Day 43: December 5, 2010

Olveira to Cee

Today was the third and last day of the walk to Finisterre—or so we thought. We awoke the the banging of our shutters against the window panes. I looked out to see a fierce wind, but no rain.

Breakfast was memorable as finally I’d learned the word for my “Spanish Toast” or pan con tomate, which is a delicious concoction of toasted bread with melted garlic with tomatoes, olive oil and salt. A simple meal, but so difficult to find at a restaurant or cafe.

Here we had it, tough the tomatoes were packaged up individually like catsup. As slow as were were getting out this day, Ariel was just as slow and we hugged before embarking for the morning. He was heading to Muxia, not Finisterre. This could be our last goodbye.

We started our walking, ascending towards the hills that would lead us downwards towards the ocean. It wasn’t more than an hour of walking before we got our ponchos on. The rain and wind came upon us, then the fog until visibility dropped to ten feet or so as we climbed towards the summit. At the summit, the wind remained so strong, blowing against some wires, that it made an eery whistling noise that lasted and lasted as we walked.

Today we walked in faith, step after step. It was so much like our first day. Too much so. The wind and rain seemed just as bad. We were just as cold and soaked. The difference being that this time, we carefully found each camino marker and still had a chance to reach civilization before dark.

We were in the fog until with a break on the ascent, we saw the ocean for the first time! Truly a glorious moment. From the mountains of the Pyrenees, we’d walked in faith to Santiago and to the ocean. Here she was and she felt like home—a primal call from mother.

Wet and wind-lashed, we joyfully descended into the seaside town of Cee, where we sought out a hotel. We would put off arriving until another day. We found the comfort of our room, where everything came off dripping wet to hang. We dined with flip flops so as to keep our boots on the radiator too.

Surprisingly, we ran into the pilgrims from the previous night, who had made this night a celebration meal. They joined us together as the dining room opened to share a meal together. They would order the extravagant dishes as we ate our set meal this night. They thought this their last meal together, whom had walked together for so many days. There were so many ways to walk this trail. And they walked it together, daily, for weeks and as I look at it, so had my companion and I! We all wanted to share in the experience with another, like tonight, and that felt good.

 Camino Day 42: December 4, 2010

Negreira to Olveira

This might have been our longest walking day yet. 35 kilometers or so. The reason being, the towns are very spaced apart so a decision has to be made to stay short, or go long. Most choose to go long. 

From the misty morning, we climbed hills and crossed through one rolling farmland after another. 

Ariel found us, of course! And sometimes he walked along side us. Another time, along the road, he yelled so suddenly that my heart jumped out of my chest.

We walked and walked and walked. A male pilgrim passed quite steadily past us at some point. And we descended into the dark to this village that was so small and lively on this Saturday night. 

The inn we stepped into took us back to another time. Here a little wedding reception seemed to be happening with the lit fire in this cosy home made of rock with white mortar. Our room was our favorite and a welcome relief to the walk. 

Here at the bar, we sat where the pilgrim who had passed us sat with two Koreans and Ariel. Ariel joined us for a long, abundant dinner full of good spirits before we retired. Ariel shared with us that he was on his way to Africa after this, on his bicycle. He’d taken so long to get to Santiago the first time as he’d met friends here and there and taken a sidetrack for his every interest. He truly lived for the moment and advocated a radical life of living to the fullest. This dinner would be our treat for our fellow adventurer. 

 Camino Day 41: December 3, 2010

Santiago to Negreira

After a leisurely afternoon and evening, we awoke strangely ready to walk. We’d known about Finisterre since the first night in the albergue in France. We were told to keep going the extra three days until you get there to burn something, wearing white, as a ritual of being born again—purified. 

Three days to go. After forty, what was three more? So after a very big breakfast buffet where we say our couple from Cadiz again, we prepared ourselves make our way westward. The guidebook ended in Santiago, but we stopped by the tourist office and picked up a new map, guide and pilgrim passport.

There was a powerful, refreshed feeling to our spirits. Walking did not seem to be a burden, but actually “the way.” We needed it, our bodies and spirits. We embarked with great enthusiasm. 

Along the way, we saw two relaxed pilgrims dining for lunch. These two Spanish we’d encounter the next days. At the bridge crossing (from the photos) we found Ariel and a French pilgrim and we took photos before crossing together. That was it. It was a quiet walk and we arrived at dark, finding a hotel to relax in that night.