Trail’s End

On the final day of walking, we had 13 miles to get to the end of the Camino. The skies were gray but the sun was peeking through, so I decided not to pack my full rain suit. The tops would be enough if it was just going to drizzle later on. Or, maybe not.

I really wondered if the miles would drag or if they would speed by. Shortly after starting the day, it became apparent that the miles would take forever to cover. Not because there was lots of traffic on the route, which there was. And not because the rain was on and off and made for unsure footing in a few places, which it did. The biggest issue was the copious amount of signage that would count down the distance, and the frequency with which it would appear.

Early in our walk, Spence took off down the trail ahead of me. This was not uncommon, and today would be no different. We would leapfrog from one coffee shop to the next, but we were determined to walk into Santiago together.

In the last 460-plus miles, you would see a distance marker once an hour, or maybe 2 or 3 times an hour at the most. At the beginning of the walk into Santiago, there were markers every hundred yards. Then three within sight of each other. Then they were spaced out by about half a kilometer. There was no missing them, and there was no way to ignore the speed of your progress.

There was still beauty to be found on the trail. At one portion, I was reminded of a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow I was supposed to read in the fifth or sixth grade.

Truly, walking the Camino gives your mind time to wander back into your deepest memories. That was one of the best takeaways from my journey.

At every possible intersection where another small town might feed in, more pilgrims entered the confluence of humanity headed toward Santiago. Their ages ran from high schoolers to octogenarians. The young people in groups would practically dance by and disappear around a bend in the trail far ahead. Slower groups would plod along, resolute and content with the rate of their own progress. This was not a race. This was an opportunity for everyone to realize their expectations and to complete their own Camino.

The rain started about halfway to Santiago. It began as a drizzle, and at the first sign many of the pilgrims dropped their packs and donned weather gear. Ponchos of yellow, orange, gray, blue, and even clear plastic dotted the trail. I waited until I could see a real show of moisture collecting on my clothing before I put on my rain jacket. This was not a deluge, it was a moistening.

It was odd to suddenly emerge from a dense forest, fragrant with pollen and heather, and find yourself in front of a colorful mural.

Then, another quarter mile down the trail, you were surrounded by nature once again. It was obvious we were getting closer to a decent-sized city. Santiago has a population of approximately 100,000 people. It’s the first city along my journey that has actually seen a population increase since the 1990s.

There wasn't much climbing hills today. In fact, the trail was mostly level until we began our descent into the city area of Santiago. Through the mist and rain buildings would slowly come into view. But, unlike many of the cities we transited on our journey, the church steeple was nowhere in sight.

The irony of the trip was that while much of the trail was clearly marked, once we hit the city, there were some intersections where directions were not clear. Pilgrims would move left or right, and we wondered which group had made the correct choice. We went with instinct and mostly followed the herd.

Finally, after some twists and turns through the old part of the city, we heard the sound of bagpipes and we knew we were in the right place. This popular Celtic instrument is also prevalent in Galicia.

It is believed that a Celtic bishop named Priscillian was born in the Santiago region and maintained some of his traditional Celtic practices, which continue as traditions to this day. As we made the final descent into the cathedral square we passed through an archway, and in the recess stood a young man playing the gaita, or bagpipes. He received many coins for his efforts.

When we emerged into the square, the rain had stopped. The timing was perfect and Spence's wife was there to greet us. Well, mostly to greet Spence. This might be a secret I'm not supposed to tell, but it's my blog.

Spence's daughters had traveled with his wife to be there when he entered the square. We arrived a little earlier than the girls thought was possible. So, it was Spencer's wife alone who was there to see us as we ended our 480-mile walk. This will all be part of a collective Camino story for years to come.

The square was fairly crowded with groups celebrating together. Individuals took in the scenery and had strangers take pictures in front of the cathedral.

The tone was somehow muted and maybe a little bit reverent. I was focused on getting my certificate before the office closed or before there became too much of a backlog, so I did not linger long in the square. Luckily, I got to see the mother and daughter duo from England, and Graham from Australia.  We exchanged congratulations briefly before I ran off to get my completion certificate.

The process for actually getting the certificate can be cumbersome and slow. Thanks to Beth, most of us had pre-registered and acquired a QR code that took us to the front of the line. Once you were cleared into the building, you were handed a slip of paper with a number on it. Then on a display screen, when your turn came, it would tell you what window to visit to complete your paperwork. As it turned out, the QR code was a lifesaver. I actually arrived when they told people that they were stopping the process for their afternoon break, but because I had the code I was allowed to enter.

The very next thing I did was grab a beer. Of all the beers I've had in my life, this one was definitely earned. 

By the time I got back to the square, the people I knew had all departed. It was interesting to see how people would pose in front of the cathedral. Massive groups would cram in for a group shot, or a pregnant woman would proudly show her growing belly in front of the famous landmark.

Spence had arranged for us to spend the night at the Parador. It was situated directly on the square and incredibly convenient. Dating from 1499, the Parador de Santiago de Compostela – also known as the Hostal dos Reis Catolicos – was founded by Catholic Monarchs as a hostel for pilgrims who had completed the Way of Saint James. The outside is fairly plain and unimpressive. It might be that way by design, so as not to distract from the magnificence of the cathedral itself. Once you enter, the furnishings and decorations are fairly opulent.

Our group all got together for dinner, along with Spence's family. The daughters were the last to arrive. Conversation was lively and the food was good. Then, after more than two hours at the table, we were all exhausted. I will save any deep reflections for my post tomorrow. Time to get upstairs and get some sleep.