Fisterra to Muxia, and that’s it.
We left our backpacks at the hotel today for our final walk to Muxia and hoofed it alla carte up the trail, which begs an important question: If you don’t carry a backpack, do the kilometers count? Like, if you eat off someone else’s plate, do the calories count? Sandy tells me the calories go back to the person’s plate you ate off of, so you do the math.
There were many finals today, and it will be awhile before I really know, what just happened? However, here are a few things I am sure of.
1 I’ve become a cafe con leche morning person, and please make it another, and an afternoon beer drinker. I’ve also developed a fondness for Coke Zero. I guess there’s a bit of “going native” or “when in Rome” to explain that. If only I could have taken up the language that easily.
2 The swinging botafumiero is absolute proof God was a child.
3 I am at least five pounds lighter than when I started, but my backpack got heavier every time I mentioned it. Did you notice, sort of like the upside down bridge photo?
4. Shouting “b-b-b-buen c-c-c-camino” to other pilgrims as we flew by on our bucking bronco bikes was one of the funniest and most painful things I did.
5 I’ll miss telling Sandy that “I hear the thundering hooves of bull shit coming my way” every time he tries to snow me with yet another creative and unique take on events of the day.
The rhythm of walking always brings music to my mind and today was no different. My mind created new lyrics to the William Tell Overture:
“Are we done, are we done, are we done done done? Are we done, are we done, are we done done done? “
I’m so done. I’m so done the idea of being confined to a tiny seat on an airplane for nine hours actually sounds good. And the good news is we actually are done.
In two days I return to my usual life, sort of. My teaching schedule doesn’t resume until September but my father landed on deaths door again while I was gone. I didn’t know until well after the fact but going to see him is a priority. I can’t wait to see my daughter who asked me not to tag her in any of my posts because she didn’t like the barrage of notifications. And it’s time for water aerobics at Pop Mounger Pool with the seniors, something I look forward to every August.
I’m looking forward to seeing my cats Lollie and Chewie, but know that I will not return to see my beloved Mr Man. I started lighting candles in the churches for him, but had to stop as I felt I was leaving a part of him behind. I attempted to leave my guilt over his death at the iron cross, but two steps away came up with yet another heroic way I could have prevented his death. I fear I am Mr Bojangles in the making: “His dog up died, up and died. After 20 years he still grieved. “
Apparently the end of the world wasn’t, and we had such a good time ending it all there last night that we went again tonight. This time we had a dinner reservation and I wore the jumper I scored in Santiago. It looked great with my Söx-n-Sañdàls™ and my crazy tan lines.
Thank you all for reading my posts and for your encouragement to write my own guide book. Only problems is, I’d have to keep walking, and WE’RE DONE!
See below for photos and descriptions.
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