The weather forecast is for rain, lots of rain, today. I am up early and on the road just after seven, it is dark here to well past eight o'clock, almost eight thirty in the morning. For now it is cool but dry, perfect walking weather. I have 22 kms to walk to get to Muxia hopefully before it rains. So I walk fast setting a pace of five kilometers an hour, just over three miles an hour.
The views are beautiful and it is a wonderful morning to walk, past woods and the sun rises with a red glow off the scattered cloud cover.
This is rolling hills, nothing too steep, but you are constantly walking up and down, through small villages of just one of two buildings. I see signs for bakeries, but don't actually encounter any. It is about nine thirty and a coffee would be good right about now, but there is no where to stop.
As I walk past this farm, I see old farming habits still exist here, the farmer lives with his family above the animals, getting their warmth in the house. You can see how thick the walls are, these are strong houses, built to withstand harsh and cold, wet winds. This is how farmers have built their homes for centuries.
I stop quickly in a village as I walk through seeing a bar open. Literally ducking in, wish everyone there a good morning, order a coffee and pastry. Use the bathroom, come out drink my coffee standing up, eat my pastry, pay and head out, pit stop about two minutes. They look at me as if I am crazy, this is not the Spanish way. But I want to beat that rain. I can see Muxia below me now.
I pass this Church and monastery, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. You can stay here, I am sure from the restored look that it is expensive. But I am not in Muxia yet. Stil some way to go.
I quicken my pace as I head down into town and there before me is someone waving at me as I come around a corner, walking towards me, I realize my friend Kirsten has walked out of Muxia to meet me. We greet and head back into town as it starts to spit, arriving at 11.20 am just as the rain begins to fall in earnest.
We find a cafe on the sea front and several Camino friends are here, Kiki and Roger a couple from Sweden, he is a retired chef and they now own a boat which they charter and sail out of southern Portugal or Spain. Brigitte is here and my two Dutch friends arrive shortly after me. When you order coffee in this region, and maybe all over Spain, you always get some small cookie or pastry served with it. I will miss that when I am home.
Kirsten shows me round Muxia, not very large and then as it is raining we head back to the cafe where everyone is sitting. We sit and talk, catching up on what each has done since we last saw each other.
Brigitte and Kirsten are heading out, catching the bus which stops right in front of the cafe, going back to Santiago and onward home.
I still have to walk to Finisterra, the end of the earth as it translates. I find a hostel, not many people here so I can spread out. I receive my Muxia compostella.
I am wet through to the skin. I see for 6 Euros they will wash your and dry your clothes, so I take a hot shower, put on a pair of shorts, give them every article of clothing other than one pair of sports shorts and ask them to wash them everything. I then rest on my bed for the afternoon dry and out of the rain.
A little later I look around town again in the dry, although the rain is never far away. The church is going through restoration following a fire, sits on the rocks with sea all around it.
The coast here is called the Coast of Death due to the rough seas and rocky shoreline. Fishing is a large part of the economy and I come across these cod skins being dried out for something.
This rock is in my guidebook and you can crawl underneath it, I decide to just be content with taking a photo.
I find the 0.0 Km marker for Muxia and as it is now starting to rain again decide to find the restauraurant Brigitte has suggested for dinner.
Fish soup to start, full of chunks of fish and a large chrimp staring at me as it is put on the table, but very good, crusty bread and then grilled fish and razor clams for the main course followed by a tasty dessert. There is a friendly dog who has become my best friend and waits patiently for some tidbit till the owner chases him away.
Some other pilgrims drift in, it is early for eating in Spain, but I was up early. I talk with a man from Ireland who is also eating dinner. He heads back tomorrow from Muxia.
I will head off to Finisterra, to find the 0.0 Km marker there out on the headland above the town near the lighthouse.
Today, I had an epiphany, a vision, as I walked this morning which has stayed with me, and although I thought I understood it clearly at the time, it has become clearer over the past year. Not entirely as I understood it at the time and something that has changed my life in ways I had no idea about as I sat in Muxia last year. But it has helped me take on the challenges of this past year and look to the future. But, I realize even more strongly I was not meant to stop in Santiago de Compostella. I was called to walk to Muxia and Finisterra. Who knows what tomorrow, my last walking day will hold. As I lie down to sleep, I am satisfied and looking forward to going home. When I started this walk, I could not understand those who had walked it multiple times over different routes, but as I drift off to sleep, I am thinking about what route will I walk next. Yes, I will definitely do this again, but not sure when.