End

The Baixar Cross

This is the absolute end of the Camino de Santiago

               The granite posts are route markers and they are lifelines along the entire way.

It's easy these days to allow my brain to select memories of some of the best days of my adult life.  We still remain limited in our choices of new experiences, and "Covid-19 Days"still tend to run on into each other with  few highlights.  So, it seems rather natural for a glance backwards, ruminating  and relishing memories of a delicious past. In Pre-Covid days, I may have simply hurried on my way to newer memories, gathering mental images that time did not allow for expansion.  As I start another day I am feeling the need to take advantage of, instead of damning too much, free time. So I sat myself down with the hope of recapturing some of those backward glances and savoring them for all their worth. After all, isn't that what life is made up of, memories. 

Along the northeast coast of Spain, in the province known as A Coruna, lie two towns considered as  the last of the possible stops  for pilgrims along the way of the Camino de Santiago, Muxia (moo SHEE ah) and Finisterre (AKA Fisterre).  If it was the film "The Way", that first captured your interest in the Camino, you may remember having seen Martin Sheen completing his journey at Finisterre, often referred to as "the End of the World".  It was here that the bereaved father cast the ashes of his son into the majestic sea.

I love every memory of our days on the Camino, doubting that anything else in my life to come could hold a candle to that experience. Our journey, in celebration of my seventieth birthday, was completed in five days of perfect weather, during the last week of April, 2018.  We officially ended our Camino in the city of Santiago de Compostella, feeling exhilarated and happy after long days of hiking the ancient route. We had arrived at our destination and all the "ifs" were past-tense.  We spent the next three days leisurely strolling, no deadlines or destinations. Our Camino passports were full, no more need to get them stamped.  We passed muster at the Pilgrim Office and received our Compostellas, certifying that we had, indeed completed the required 100 kilometers.  Santiago days were for relaxation and celebration, eating tapas and taking it easy after five days of walk, eat, sleep, repeat. So, no, we did not feel guilty when we boarded a luxury bus  two days later and settled into our  comfortable seats for an all-day excursion to the Finisterre.  The sky was blue, the air was perfect and the views were extreme.  Along the way, we saw pilgrims still on their journey. While most end their Way in Santiago, there are a number who chose to stay on foot and travel on to the very, very end. An hour and a half bus ride would have netted out to several more walking days. Had this been a celebration of an earlier birthday, we might have considered this option.

The coastal route was spectacular.  Living near the sea, I still never tire of seascapes.  As our bus twisted and turned through tiny towns that dot the coastline, we were able to sit back and just enjoy. A few short stops at some very scenic locales and then on to Muxia for lunch.  Of course, octopus was part of that meal as it was most of our meals in Galicia. We luxuriated at a seaside cafe and followed it up with a walk through the town, I accompanied by three other American women.  Joe ventured out on his own.  Having been together every moment for the previous two weeks, the time away felt odd, especially when the bus was about to depart and he was nowhere in sight.  Thank God for small favors....a red backpack was spotted by one of our companions and soon we were on our way again.  

The final stop on our bus route was the breathtaking Finisterre. As the bus wound up the hill, the rest of the world slowly slipped away and the beauty of the most Northern tip of Spain was revealed.  The Baixir Cross greets pilgrims who next seek the final marker of the Camino. Beyond that, waves crash against huge rock formations that lead gracefully out to the sea.  The entire point is an observation area, the boundless beauty marked by relentless sprays of ocean against nature. Symphonic. Shade of blue and green, mixed with silvery white show up with each crash, non-stop. Gorgeous. Majestic. Only words. One would have to be there to fully grasp this, this overwhelming feeling and stunning appreciation of Man meeting Sea and, in the end, Sea the greater force. A perfect way to end our Way, or any way, for that matter.

After all is said and done, the Camino de Santiago is a perfect metaphor, one that is completed at the 

End of the World.

Journey End Started

I just received an email from a friend in Italy, the lovely man who will, at least
for the month of November, be my landlord.  He reminded me that I will be arriving in Assisi in ten days and he is "excited".  In my reply to him, I confirmed that he is not the only one who is excited about the plans. And, as I did so, I reminded him that six months ago, this journey that I am now planning to complete, started when Joe and I did our Camino in Spain.

My granddaughters became the henchmen for what I had fondly referred to as #mycamino, on my Instagram photos.  During a visit, they probably thought they were amusing when they sarcastically referred to the use of this "hashtag".  But it was embarrassing and hurtful and it brought my little ritual to an abrupt end.  Let me go on record as saying that I am not a FaceBook user and that I have used Instagram for a while as a repository of photos and a way to connect with other photos.  Beyond that, social media is not part of my life and I'm not always even sure of what and why hashtags exist. I just know that one click of #mycamino brings me back to not only my memories but those of others who also treasured their experiences on the Camino de Santiago.

So, please indulge me.  Please don't mock me.  I don't do well with that and promise to not do it to you.

In ten short, windy days, I will be back on MY Camino.  In three short, cold and snowy months, I will have completed my seventieth year.  I have my health, my wits-about-me, my ideal blood pressure and weight (finally), and I have a heck of a lot for which to be grateful. I also have a heck of a lot to contemplate as I face, along with the rest of humanity, an uncertain future.

Six years ago, in my own way of mourning my mother's death, I took myself to Assisi, Italy, for one month.  I was alone for most of that month and was free to use my time in any way I sought.  It was wonderful and healing.  I found comfort at every turn and heightened spirituality was only one of the benefits.  I know that I grew as a person if not only for the fact that going solo meant a huge confidence boost at a time I needed it.  Spirituality and confidence have stuck.  And now, they are the very things that have led me to the perfect end of my year-long celebration of life.  I'm about to do it my way.  This time, I will not be totally alone.  Most of the people who will be accompanying me also have a mission.  More about that later, as days go by and we unfold our stories.

For now, as I prepare for my journey, I know
I am also preparing for the journey back home.  My father becomes 97 next week, just days before I depart.  The Winter will arrive soon after my return.
My mother-in-law is now just a few months short of her 104th birthday.  It's been a long, disturbing Summer.  The more I am ready, the more useful I will become. The more fulfilled I can claim to be, the more resilient I know I will be.  My loving and wonderful husband understands all of this.  He's a major part of everything I do and this time, once again,will remain on the bleachers.  But, he's also been a pilgrim and he gives his blessing, knowing that I will come home with a readiness for the rest of our lives.  #ourcamino.