Coda: day trip to Fisterra

After reaching Santiago de Compostela, some pilgrims choose to continue their camino to Fisterra, meaning End of the Earth, as it's almost the westernmost point of Galicia and hence peninsular Spain. I suppose it gives the pilgrimage a feel of closure.

However this would have involved an extra 3 days walk of about 90 km, and there is no official recognition of this stretch, except maybe some extra stamps in the credencial.

So I decided to visit it by guided tour. I had also considered a sojourn in a town like Muxía, but it would have added a couple of days to my itinerary as connections are not frequent and I would still have to make my own way to the cape.

Ok, I confess. These are not photos of Fisterra. Yet. We visited a few places before there, and they were quite picturesque, so this will be a long post, as it's hard to exclude great photos. This is the harbour of Muros. We are actually facing east and that hill is inland.

Here's a panorama in all its glory.

As you can see, this coast is prone to mist.

A sandy beach of sorts. I seem to remember reading that Galicia is popular as a place to get away from the hot summers elsewhere in Spain.

Another panorama.

Looking back at the marina. That's our tour bus at the left of the photo.

Very calm water, mirror-like.

One more panorama.

About an hour later. A marina on a river? Yes, this is Ézaro, on the Xallas River.

Looking upstream.

Hydroelectric plant.

You saw this coming, the waterfall of Fervenza de Ézaro.

A bit closer.

Without any obstruction.

In a panorama.

Parting shots of the marina.

With the mirror-like water.

After an hour more travelling we arrived at the lighthouse.

You can see that the mist still hung around the coast which is called Costa da Morte because of the many shipwrecks the often bad weather and low visibility have caused.

Looking out to sea.

Here I bumped into one of the older members of the Swedish pilgrims. We greeted like we had known each other a long time. But we also knew that it would probably be the last time we would meet. That's travel, you meet wonderful people and then you have to part.

This volunteer was stamping credencials for pilgrims.

How far are you from home? Distances like these would have been unimaginable for medieval pilgrims.

A last look at the lighthouse.

Lunch was taken in the nearby town of this commune of Fisterra. Its harbour is also east facing because it's on the eastern side of a peninsula dangling south, the better for protection from the ocean.

There is a sculpture honouring the emigrant. Many Galicians emigrated to other lands. In Argentina, Gallego is a generic term for Spaniards.

A panorama.

It's a rather touristy town and there are lots of pleasure craft.

Not to mention several good restaurants doing a roaring trade from the visitors. And a good cafe I can attest to.

A panorama.

For the next sight we headed north to the lighthouse of Muxía.

You can walk out on the cracked rock.

The sun was harsh, but the breeze was cool and pleasant. I took shelter in the shadow of this big rock for a while.

I waited for the crashing wave for this shot.

The scene looked like this.

There is a small church nearby. Some pilgrims head here for the final destination.

The sculpture A Ferida stands here. It's a tribute to the volunteers who came to assist Galicia with the cleanup of the Prestige oil spill.

A view from the back and an omnipresent pilgrim marker.

An overview of the area.

The final spectacle for the trip was to Ponte Maceira, an ancient bridge from Roman times.

We could walk on, over, under and around the bridge.

I went downstream a little.

Then I reapproached the bridge close to the water.

Getting closer. One person on top and others under.

Emerging on the other side.

After this the bus took us back to Santiago de Compostela and dropped us off at the square where we had started in the morning.

And that was the end of the Camino stage of my round the world journey. What happened next will be recounted in another blog.

As pilgrims wish each other on the journey, ¡Buen Camino! The camino you are on is your life. Give it your best.

Day 5: to Vigo

The problem with cities and towns are the suburbs between the outskirts and the centre and these are often unattractive. As Baiona is a port, there were the usual port industries.

The hotel's dining room was small and breakfast somewhat basic. That's the trade-off staying near the centre of cities.

Less than an hour's walk brought us to A Ramallosa with this pretty roman bridge. Lots of photos were taken by pilgrims.

Another view.

Can you tell that I liked it?

The modern counterpart for road traffic.

Nigrán, on the coast, is a popular tourist destination. It had many attractive shops. I decided to treat myself to a coffee and brownie.

The path hugged the coast and offshore were the Islas Cies.

As the total length of my Camino is 200 km, I was almost halfway there.

One of the clearer views. I was lucky to have good weather. Galicia can be rainy.

A panorama.

A water trough for soaking one's feet. I think this one didn't have potable water, but there were many sources of that on the way. Around here I also encountered a self-service stamping station for the Credencial.

I had intended to wait until I got closer to Vigo before taking lunch, but no good places showed up. At the last peak before descending to Vigo I took a refreshing beer at a bar. Surely there would be an eatery in the outskirts.

Unfortunately the road ran through uninspiring suburbs with car dealerships, outlet stores, gyms and similar. It was also a warm afternoon which wore me down more. I gave in and had a late lunch at a fast food outlet. At least I enjoyed the air-conditioning and the huge cold drink.

This was the only photo I took that afternoon was of the street escalators—Vigo is a hilly city The hotel was at the eastern part of Vigo and t took me an hour to traverse the city. I didn't look like a pilgrim though, no huge backpack, no scallop shell or other paraphernalia.

Dinner was not included with the hotel room or charged for as the agency felt that we would prefer to make our choice from the many fine restaurants of Vigo. So I had a Spanish tortilla at a nearby eatery and called it a night. It was one of the more tiring stages, at 26 km and perhaps a couple more due to crossing the city. The boring suburbs didn't help.