Another misty autumnal day; a lovely walk from Cee to Finisterre via the pretty historic village of Corcubión on the other side of the estuary.
Then a long slow climb over the hills and sudden views of the sea and sandy bay of Estorde, where I stop for a coffee and meet the Belgian guy again. The beaches are deserted; just a few gulls looking at the view.
The waymarkers indicate I’m nearing Finisterre and I stop for a celebratory beer at the end of Playa Langosteira and watch the steady stream of pilgrims walk along the beach towards the town. It’s moving; some will have walked hundreds of miles to get here.
I book into the Hostel Oceanus where I stayed three years ago and where I collected the well-water for the SEA WELL installation. The simple joys of a clean comfortable bunk with a cotton sheet and a towel.
For old times sake, I eat a plate of baked razor clams for lunch (navajas). Then wander into the wholesale fish market (Lonxa) where fishermen watch digital screens displaying current fish prices, overlooked by a magnificent statue of the Virgin and child pulling drowning fishermen from a tumultuous sea. The waves here must be huge; next stop New York!
At about seven I look at the weather forecaste and unexpectedly see rain for tomorrow, so hurriedly set out for the Cabo (cape).
It’s uphill all the way, but an easy gradient; I meet the Belgian guy walking down.
I arrive at the Cabo about 8pm with hundreds of others to watch the sunset, at what was once the most westerly point on the known world, until Magellan (or if you prefer Eratosthenes of Cyrene) discovered otherwise. What a seismic change of consciousness that must have been; to suddenly discover you live on a globe spinning in space.
The sunset is slow and undramatic; the cloud-covered sun stains the grey sea pale orange and before it finally slips into the dark ocean. Night falls momentous. I trust its alchemy.
I’m reminded of one of my favourite poems…