Santiago de Compostela

11pm

Hotel Alda Algalia 

I don’t know where to begin. 

How do I begin to talk about the end of this monumental journey?

The day started much like all our others. 

Get up, grab some breakfast, and set out to take on the many miles that await us.

Once again, Mother Nature was so good to us. We couldn’t have asked for better weather. Overcast, breezy, and cool.

We stopped for a quick break about 1/3 of the way through, during which time I had to sew my shorts AGAIN, while I was wearing them. Which afforded us these very flattering photos. 

We continued on for another 1/3 or so, in gorgeous forests and with the perfect weather holding out. 

Along the way, Sebastian and Jacob caught up to us. When we had dinner together last night, they shared they’re planning to get to Santiago a day after us, making their final day of walking short and sweet. When they caught up to us today, Jacob excitedly yelled ahead, “We changed our mind! To Santiago!” I said, “No way! About 10 minutes ago I thought, ‘I wonder if they’ll change their minds as we get closer.’” “Well, we made our decision about 10 minutes ago,” he said with a smile. 

We were all so excited, it felt electric. They’re much faster than us, so they set off ahead, and I snapped this adorable photo of the two of them in their joy and excitement. 

We stopped for lunch a little later, where of course we ran into them again and I was able to share the photo. Eating our final Camino bocadillos was so surreal. I celebrated with a glass of wine, and we prepared to set off for our final leg of the journey. 

As we reached the outskirts of town and proceeded through the city on our way to the cathedral, my heart started racing in anticipation. It felt like there was a 10lb weight on my chest. But in a good way, somehow. 

Everything we’ve been working toward. 

Every single mile.

Has brought us to this day. 

It’s our 40th day of the adventure. 

And we’ve walked all but 3. 

It was hard. 

It was exhausting, physically, mentally, and emotionally. 

But we did it.

As we got closer to the old town, the charming streets got narrower, the excitement grew. Until we rounded a corner to the sound of bagpipes. Echoing out of a tunnel, which we were about to enter. 

This is it.

This is IT. 

We walked down the stairs. 

Through the tunnel. 

Into the square.

Catedral de Santiago towered over us to the left, and I buried my head in my dad’s shoulder as the tears started flowing. “We did it, sweetie,” he said.

We did it. 

Our new friend Patty, who we met in El Acebo, was the first face I saw. She ran over to us with the brightest smile and biggest hugs, crying and celebrating with us. 

We saw a few other pilgrim friends we met along the way, and they all shook our hands or hugged us and offered their knowing congratulations. It’s a feeling and comeraderie like no other. 

We spent a little while longer in the square, soaking in the reality of all we’ve accomplished, before heading to the pilgrim office for our Compostelas. 

On the way, we found them again. Jacob and Sebastian. More hugs, more tears. More joy. 

We made our way into the office and waited in line until it was our turn to declare ourselves Camino finishers. The nice man whose window I approached took my stamped credentials, confirmed my starting point, St. Jean Pied-de-Port, France, and gave me my final stamps. Writing my name in Latin on the Compostela, it was finished. And official. 

We made our way to our hotel, settled and showered, and headed to the evening pilgrim’s mass. Followed by an incredible Italian dinner and ice cream. 

And now, here we are. Getting ready to crash. 

No alarm set for the morning. We won’t load our packs and sling them on our backs and take off anywhere. 

The walking is done. 

We reached our destination. 

We walked the Camino.

We walked the Camino. 

I can’t thank our loved ones enough for all the support and encouragement along the way. Knowing I have such an amazing tribe cheering me on helped me get through each and every step. 

And thank you so much for following along. 

Perhaps, as you’ve walked with us, the Camino has called to you. Perhaps it already had. 

Don’t ignore the call. It won’t stop calling. 

There are many ways to be a pilgrim, and no one way is correct. Heed the call, make the choice, set the goal. 

They say the Camino starts at your front door.

So, for all you future pilgrims, no matter if you’re still daydreaming or about to research flights:

Allow me to be the first to say, 

Buen Camino.

Salceda

9:30pm

Pension Albergue Alborada

My body is wrecked. 

My feet hit their “ok I’m done” wall about 3km into our walk today, rather than the usual 3km to our destination. I honestly won’t be surprised if I have a stress fracture in the making on one of them. BUT! We only have one. more. day. of walking. One more day! Tonight’s the last night we go through our usual routine. Set an alarm. Prepare for another early morning and full day of walking. This fact really got me through today. I’m not as worried about not making it to the end, I know I’ll miss this when it’s done, and I’m trying to soak in every last moment. Plus, it was another beautiful day with ideal walking weather and pretty doable footing. 

There were a lot more pilgrims on the road today, and it’s kind of fun to feel our collective energy and excitement. We stopped at a beautiful little shop this afternoon, only because I had to use the bathroom, and I’ve never been so thankful for my bladder. That’s a really weird thing to say, but what I’m getting at is that this cafe had my name written alllllll over it. So beautiful, such great music, the whole thing. Incredible. 

We continued on with a little more pep in our step, a few more kilometers, where we came upon a beer garden. Empty bottles of “Peregrina” beer decorated the whole space, and you don’t just pass that by. And BONUS! I’ve wanted to get a proper chocolate croissant for days, and finally found them here. A double whammy of perfection. 

The last few kilometers were great. Yes, we were so tired. But it was gorgeous, the beer helped, and we made it all in one piece. 

One thought I found myself reflecting on most of the day is how beautifully relationships are formed on the Camino. We can pass a person or group multiple times, during the first of which we just say a simple “Buen Camino,” and don’t necessarily think we’ll see them again. And then we might pass again, with a smile of greeting and recognition. And then you keep passing, and passing, and passing, back and forth, until you end up chatting a bit more and connecting one way or another. Maybe you share a meal. Maybe it’s just a quick rest break. We learn very quickly that anyone we meet might end up being a new, wonderful friend who will leave a mark on our lives and experience. So we start to go into every interaction knowing this could be true. Why don’t we live more like that at home? I’m not saying we need to expect every stranger to become a close friend. But there’s no reason we shouldn’t treat everyone as though there’s a very high probability we’ll see them again. That they might just be someone we would really enjoy. That they might need a smile, or a friend, or help. I want to take this home as well.

We had a wonderful example of this concept at dinner. Yep, the same night I’ve been thinking of this. We’ve passed and been passed by who we assumed were a father-son duo many times over the last few days. We’ve exchanged smiles and quick greetings every time, and they seem really nice. We didn’t see them all afternoon, but of course we walk onto the back patio of the restaurant down the street for dinner tonight and there they are. Again, there’s no hesitation with pilgrims when it comes to meal time. You sit together. We sat down with them and had what became one of my favorite dinner experiences of the trip. On this, our last Camino dinner. They are Sebastian and Jacob, from Denmark. Both teachers. Jacob (the dad) asked our favorite part of the Camino, and he and Sebastian shared too. We talked about deep, personal feelings and connected on what we have in common. Jacob shared that the word in his head and on his heart on this trip is “kindness.” It’s just everywhere. 

“I will pack my backpack to the brim with kindness, and bring it back to Denmark.”

That’s just what you should do, Jacob. I think I’ll do the same.

They shook our hands, looked us in our eyes, and wished us a good way tomorrow. And peace. Of course we saw them again when we realized we’re staying at the same albergue. Jacob saw a weary-looking couple who had arrived hoping for a bed, but the reception desk is closed and every bed is full. He insisted, “Nobody is here now. Stay here, on the couch.” You can pay in the morning if you want, but we won’t tell. Get some rest.” 

Kindness. 

We all have it in us. 

Put it into practice. 

And now, we rest. We prepare for the final 27km to our destination. THE destination. The day we’ve worked 39 days to accomplish. The day of which we’ve been dreaming. 

One more day. One more sacred day. 

Melide

9:15pm

Albergue A Lúa do Camiño

It’s getting real real REAL that we only have two more Camino days. I just can’t believe it. I think this realization contributed to how much I appreciated our walk today. Well, that... and the fact that it never got above 70 degrees. HALLELUJAH. In fact, the morning started out misty enough for us to put on our pack covers. It felt so good. And it was just so beautiful. Mossy trees and so many variations of green, as far as the eye can see. A real-life Fern Gully. 

We stopped for lunch at a tiny little place in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and what do you know, they had an amazing veggie burger. Such a great stop, and then it was back to the beautiful trail for the afternoon. 

We arrived at our BEAUTIFUL albergue around 4pm, a perfectly reasonable hour with lots of time for laundry and showering and settling and pizza dinner-ing. There’s a gorgeous pool, and a lovely living room area. We’re the only ones utilizing it, and I can’t believe how comforting it feels to sit on a couch. I haven’t relaxed on a couch in nearly 6 weeks and I didn’t realize how much I miss the comfort of a living room until I walked in.

(oh and this is the Roomba of lawn mowers)

Here we sit, chatting occasionally, just enjoying soaking up some quiet rest time. Soon we’ll go to bed, and prepare for our second-to-last day of walking. I don’t know how it’s possible. My body is SO ready to be done. When I stand up after even a one-minute rest somewhere, I walk like I’m 187 years old for several steps before I settle into all the aches. 

My mind and soul are ready for the rest too, but I anticipate a rough transition out of this life. The “real world” feels so far away. Another life. At the same time, I still hold it so close, missing my home and family and friends and job. 

I’m so ready to get back and hug my mom, and sister, and soon-to-be brother, and nephews, and all those I hold dear. But I will always ALWAYS hold this place in a most sacred space of my heart. 

A space I can and will take with me every day, forever. 

Eirexe

10:30pm

Pensión Airexe

Today couldn’t have started any lovelier. We woke up early, made our way downstairs for breakfast, and had more lovely conversations with Carol and Lorenzo. When it came time to pay for our stay (Carol had suggested last night that we just pay for everything on the way out... the room, the dinner, the drinks, breakfast), they WOULDN’T LET US PAY. Insisted. I was moved nearly to tears. Speechless. I said, “Wow, no way. That’s way too kind.” And Carol persisted, “It was our pleasure to have you here.” When I replied that the pleasure was ours, and they made us feel like family, she said, “See? Of course you won’t pay. We do that for our friends.” We were just dumbfounded. And so, so touched. Lorenzo even insisted we take a shot for the road (when in Rome!). And with double cheek-kisses all around, we were off. 

We didn’t make it very far down the path before I noticed something that made my stomach turn. As I’ve mentioned mostly jokingly, it’s hard not to be envious of the fresh legs and outlooks of the people who just started their Camino journeys in Sarria. I can be honest about that. But it makes me SICK to think that fellow pilgrims who started in St. Jean would EVER belittle or diminish that experience. These people took time out of their lives to walk over 100km! They could have set up camp on a beach somewhere, or stayed on their couches! And both are perfectly respectable ways to spend a vacation. We are all pilgrims. And I don’t know how you can come this far and not see that. But I saw this scribbled on a trail marker, and wished desperately I could remove it. What a horrible welcome we are showing our fellow pilgrims. Shame on you, whoever you are. I hope and pray you find whatever it is you’re looking for which you clearly haven’t yet found.

Foul. Vile. Not welcome here.

Annnnyway, that’s enough air time for those dumb-dumbs. Back to the trail. After that somewhat discouraging and nauseating discovery, I was also discovering that it was yet another very sleepy day for me. I think the finish line in sight has set my body into “are we there yet?” mode. And I’m desperately trying to fight it. One thing I’ve noticed (which I hope will serve me well even beyond the Camino) is that even when I’m at my very lowest while walking, all I have to do is a quick survey of how my body actually feels, and I discover that I’m really alright. My feet hurt, sure. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. My legs are tired, sure. But they’re still moving. So much of this game is mental. The real trials come when I focus on how badly I wish I was somewhere else. And where does that get me? I am here. Where I am. 

No matter where you go, there you are. 

Wishing it away won’t work, but walking it away will. So we press on. And it helps to remember that.

About halfway through our day, we stopped for a decently long break. We met a mother-daughter duo from England and got to chatting with them for a bit. They started yesterday in Sarria, and will walk to Finisterre. A city right on the coast, beyond Santiago. Many pilgrims choose to press on to Finisterre. We told them we started in St. Jean, and mentioned that we will go to Finisterre, but definitely by bus. The daughter, my age, replied, “Oh yeah, that’s very American isn’t it? Go by bus. You Americans use planes like buses, so that sounds about right.” 

... uhhhhhhhh ... 

Is that a very American thing to do, or is that a very “I-just-walked-500-miles-and-that’s-enough-thank-you-very-much” thing to do? All I could think to say was, “Well we do kind of need planes to get across our country, unless we have a really long time to get there.” I was very off-put by this right away. Especially on a hot and exhausted day. No thank you. 

They left, we exchanged pleasantries, and that was that. And we pressed on. Well. The Camino works in mysterious ways, and a few kilometers later, after we had passed them while they adjusted their packs, there they were again. The daughter caught up to us at the top of a hill where we were taking a breather and enjoying the view, and asked if we could walk together because her mom was having a really hard time. Of course, we said. Absolutely. This just isn’t a request you ignore. 

As we started walking, she and I got out ahead while her mom and my dad fell behind. My dad was intentionally keeping her company, and the daughter and I were walking about the same pace. I quickly realized that I would be doing a lot of listening. I am pretty decent at that, definitely. But again, sometimes these conversations in which I have no place or contribution make me feel like a hostage. I tried to connect about Harry Potter. I mean, she said she’s a major bookworm and she’s from London... done deal. This is where we connect. When she replied, “Oh, I could never get into the books, but I love the movies” ... game over. We got nothin. But we kept walking. I wasn’t in a social mood AT ALL, and this should have been a nightmare. But then... it wasn’t. I felt an overwhelming sense of calm and peace wash over me. She needs this right now. I knew she did. And the peace and patience I felt was not of my own creation. It felt miraculous. 

We walked on, and she shared with me that she had wanted to become a Carmelite nun, and through a series of heartbreaking revelations it became clear that it wasn’t a good fit. She had to reevaluate her entire life’s plan. And she was walking the Camino as a way to process this change. When I tell you that I heard her entire life story... I mean I heard her entire. life. story. Top to bottom, it felt like. We walked and (she) talked, and before too long came to a bar for a drink. In our conversation, she mentioned she read a really meaningful book which had a huge impact on her Camino journey. She described, “Actually, it’s by an American priest. It’s called something like Field of Stars.”

Oh. That book. THAT BOOK??? You mean the one written by the parish priest at my PARENTS’ CHURCH in Spokane? Yep. That book. That very one. 

Again... I’m losing my faith in coincidence.

We pressed on once again, each albergue we passed imagining that they would stop. The mom was still struggling a bit, but she continued to move forward until we got to the place where we had a reservation. They had two more beds available in their bunk room, and they took them. They thanked us profusely for walking with them, claiming they wouldn’t have made it without or company.

Could we have made it here faster on our own? Yes. 

But we were tired. And we were weary. And I was working with very little fuel in my mental tank by lunch time. I didn’t want to talk to them, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and yet there they were. There we were. Walking with them made the afternoon fly by, and therefore got me through. Help can meet you in the least likely of places. They needed the company, and come to think of it, so did we. 

Sometimes you’re the helper, sometimes you’re the helpee. And the Camino always provides.