Arca do Pino to Santiago

Day 34 (Monday 10 June) 20 kilometres to Santiago de Compostela.

About 2 days ago Caledon Angela sent me an e-mail, looking to hook up the original Canadian group in Santiago. She is leaving today, however, and that is when I will arrive. Still, the thought was nice. As I said to her in reply, we'll probably run into each other in some airport terminal years from now and be joyful for the event.

My albergue last night was fine; my dorm room was only half full (the hostel was about 500 metres off the beaten track) and there wasn't any serious snoring. I am out the door at 06:45 this morning, having completed a recce of a shortcut back to the Camino the afternoon before. The weather is grey again - the clouds hanging just over the tree tops. A light drizzle is falling and the temperature feels like abou 11 or 12 degrees. I leave with my jacket on and my ruck covered. The trail for this last day is generally wide and of packed earth that is somewhat softer underfoot than usual, when I am not actually on pavement. It looks to me like the province of Galicia has invested some funds on making sure the last part of the journey will be a good one from a track perspective.

The early part of the trail is through woodlands. One of the trees must be a flowering variety because a single petal drifts down and lands at my feet. I think of a Roman general enjoying a Triumph through the streets of Rome, with thousands of petals being scattered at his feet. A single petal for me, so the scale of my celebration is about right. The timing is a bit off though - I still have about 16 kilometres to go. Later, as I am taking a picture of some flowers, the home owners pull up to their front gate and the lady of the house invites me onto their driveway so that I can get a better frame angle. I try to put her into the picture, but she is backing away as I take it.

The Santiago airport is southeast of the city and the Camino goes right by one of the runways. It's incongruous to hear turbo-jet and turbo-prop aircraft landing and taking off. I take pleasure in listening to the sound of turbo-prop propellers going into "beta" while an aircraft is taxiing (to keep it simple - the low growl that the props generate when their blade angle goes from forward thrust into neutral). It's been more than 15 years since my last flight, but that will always be one of my favourite sounds.

The image that I have of Santiago is the old town, with its cathedral. Of course, Santiago is a modern city of 96,000 people, so the reality is that I have to walk for more than an hour through not very scenic industrial and residential suburbs before the spires of the cathedral come into view. I find my hotel at about noon.

The great 800 kilometre walking adventure is done. I feel a quiet sense of satisfaction, but no elation. The Camino did not make me cry, but it did present some mental and physical challenges. I'm glad that I have done it and am grateful for the support of family and friends. My guide book says, surprisingly, that only about 11 percent of the pilgrims walking the Camino Frances actually start in St. Jean Pied de Port and then cross the Pyrenees. It's been a long journey - I doubt that I will ever repeat the experience. Other walking adventures await, of a more genteel nature (15 or 16 kilometres per day and with only a light pack).

After the usual chores, I make my way to the Pilgrim Office so that I can receive my official "compostela" in recognition of my walk. The line up is more than one hour long, even though a light rain continues to fall. On the way out, I run into Dutch Herrman and Joyce. I congratulate them on their journey and tell them that the line is only another 400 metres long once they get in the door.

 

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