The journey back from the end of the world

Hello all,

This should begin at the beginning but it would take too long to write and the end is more applicable to the present. Besides all life is a cycle so exactly where is the end anyway? Ok I shall stop being cryptic and talk about the 8 day walk to Finisterra and back.

Leaving Santiago, I was excited to finally being near to the finish of my camino but sad to have lost my friends, some of whom I had walked with for 31 days. I felt alone and unsure. Unused to finding the waymarks and arrows by myself, I took the wrong path several times but it wasn´t long before I was strolling through heathland with the cathedral spires behind me. A wild rabbit hopped in front of me which I took as a good sign (being born in the year of the rabbit). In the mist, a rainbow arced across the sky ahead, so close like it could be touched.

Since 2002 the rainbow has been a very portent sign of spiritual and emotional wellbeing, that the last one I saw was at the guesthouse where Alex lived is a different matter. It filled me up with happiness and reassured me that this trip was the right one to do. Then the heavens opened and I would have been drenched had not Andrea given me his poncho when he left Santiago. Thank you!

It took 4 days to walk to Finisterra and I always walked alone. This was a blessing after the never-ending lines of pilgrims reaching Santiago. Yet, each night the refuge was full (30+) of pilgrims and many had to sleep on the floor or even outside! I was lucky enough to arrive early enough to get a bed every time. I saw few people who I already knew but there was always someone to talk to. Pilgrims are usually open, heart-felt people (on the road at least) who enjoy to share their experiences and I met a couple of amazing people including a man in his 60´s who had walked from Denmark. He remined me of Father Christmas with his long grey beard.

Unlike in prior days, much of the camino was over hills, heathland, woods whilst the occasional road had few cars. To see the sea for the first time was a true joy. It was still so far away though. The night before I arrived at Finisterra, the end of the world, I stayed at a lovely refuge run by the Friends of the Camino. The house was homely with music, we all had dinner together and it buoyed my spirits for the "end". You could see Finisterra fromt the dorm window and I spent a long time looking at the point and the lighthouse, just letting the feelings wash over me. I had now been on the road for 35 days and walked nearly 900km.

The sun was shining and the day glorious as I finally came down from the hills to the shore line. When I reached the beach, I dropped my bags, pulled off my shoes and ran to stand in the crystal clear ocean. It was freezing! I decided not to swim. Arriving in Finisterra, I missed Andrea, Erwin and Marika so much. This was the real end and I wanted them with me. I nearly cried so many times, the emotions were so strong. In the heat of the day, I left my bag at the refuge and took my siesta at the beach. I looked for my scallop shell but couldn´t find anything that meant anything to me so I decided to forget about it. Later when I went to the supermarket to buy something for dinner and a bottle of wine for the sunset, I found frozen scallops. On impulse I shifted through these, found one I liked, cooked it, ate the scallop (one of my favourite foods) and kept that shell instead.

The lighthouse was a further 2km away, up a hill and I headed there after dinner. Arriving at the waymark that said 0.00km I was once again overcome with jubilation and had my photo taken with it. I wandered around the lighthouse and then back to sit on a rock by myself, facing the sunset. I made an arrow with my flip flops, wine bottle and a Fructis shampoo bottle, pointing to the setting sun. Pointing to the end. The shampoo bottle was a joke our group had shared. It was my way of carrying them with me here.

After a while I decided to watch the sunset at the beach near the refuge so walked back down. This turned into a run as I realised I might not make it! To come all this way and miss the sunset, I couldn´t believe it. I arrived just as the sun went down. It was rather cloudy so not particularly spectacular but a powerful moment. Then along came an American lady and a Brazilian man who I´d met the night before. They were also tipsy and we sat and talked about silly things and laughed so much for about an hour. It was a perfect way to finish the camino. My friends were gone and whilst they could not be replaced I would not be alone.

The next day I started my walk back to Santiago but via Muxia where apparently St. James bones arrived in a boat. This was a difficult day, the arrows assume you are walking in the other direction and I was lost many times, heading in directions purely on instinct. I also had to cross a fast flowing stream. The stone slabs were quite far apart and under water. Terrified of slipping, it took me an hour to cross this 20m wide stream. I didn´t know how I could get my bag over, and several times I thought I could not make it and would have to go back. Eventually where trying to find an alternative way to cross, I discovered a stout long branch, which I could use to steady myself between the slabs. All the time I was saying outloud, "I am strong, I am not afraid", over and over again. I had to cross the stream 3 times as I left my shoes and camera behind the first time.

Drained and hungry, I stopped to eat lunch when 2 cyclists turned up. It was quite amusing to watch their faces as they realised that the stream was much harder to cross than it looked initially. I wished them Bon Camino and left them to curse their way over in peace.

I was exhauasted by the time I reached Muxia, and drained by a helpful but slightly perverted short Spanish man who took me to the information centre but then wanted me to spend time with him. Beware the short Spanish man - they are trouble all over Northern Spain! That night I sat at a point near the refuge to watch the sun go down over the coast. Some of the views today had been spectacular but this had been my hardest day yet.

The walk back to Oliveroa proved the same. This time I lost the path in a logged and burnt forest. The branches caught on my bag as I headed down the slope. I could see the town that I thought must be Dumbria on the brow of the next hill. I went as the crow flies. This led to me to another stream, fortunately not so wide or deep, and mounds of bracken that were as high as my ankle, then waist and then head. As I fought my way through, my foot hit rocks of some kind, a wall as it turned out to be, and I thought this must be how the German found Ankor Wat. My luck was that soon after I crossed a track that led me in the right direction.

I wanted to walk back so I could know a little what it must have been like for the pilgrims who, after walking for months to reach Santiago, now had to turn around and walk back. Walking to Santiago gives you insight. Walking back gives you perspective. As I crossed the hills near the refuge of Oliveroa, I was amazed to hear rushing water and to see down in the valley a huge river. How could I not have seen this before? I remember that when I left the refuge it was very foggy, you could only see a few metres ahead, enough to know that there were wind turbines on the hills, and if I heard anything, I thought it was these.

This realisation was made only more poignant by my thoughts a hour or so before. I waited until reaching a white marble bridge to eat my lunch. As I sat there, byt the bubbling cool stream, I thought about what is the goal of water. It constantly goes down, always searching out the easiest path, but always going down. In Leon, I had watched for half an hour, water pooling from the sprinklers and slowly finding paths through the grass, the granite, heading downwards. Where is the end? The sea. It´s point is to reach the end, and when it reaches the end, it will not be a stream anymore. It will have finished. It will have died. I thought what is the goal of life? What is the end? To die. The goal is death. The goal will happen regardless of what we want or do, although there may be things we can do to speed or slow it down, but ultimately the timing of the goal is not set by us, nor is it avoidable. Our life is constantly heading towards our death. Realising this, I felt very odd, like everything I thought true was being stripped away. I guess in some ways, I always felt the point of life was somewhere in your 50´s when you´ve had children, have a home, on the way to retirement... But of course this is not the point.

So if the end is death, what is the point, the purpose of life? This moment, each moment. Now. There is no guarantees, no constants, no happiness in the future because this or that will happen. Only what we have and appreciate right now. This moment is the only moment that truely matters because it is the only moment that you know is happening. There are no controls in life. We look to build security to try to make life happen in a certain way to give the illusion that we are in control, but really we are just the same as the water, always heading down, heading continuously to our death. We can put rocks in the ways, dams, walls, try to change the flow but the water will always find a way to carry on down.

This realisations, coupled with the river that I had not seen before, left me feeling very vulnerable and lost. I have been living my life for quite a while now and trying to be in tune with the spirit and the energy of the world that so many people have forgotten about. A few days before I found a book in English. I was ecstatic as I have not been able to read for ages. The book was called "The Monk who sold his Ferrari" and it is a spiritual book about how to live and be happy. As I read through it, I noticed that all the lessons I had already applied to my life in some way. I am not perfect and there are certain things I could do more, but this was a first and it was a shock. A good shock, but still a shock.

Now I felt like my last unknown belief had been pulled away from me. I felt like I had lost all the control in my life. I was heading to my death and there was nothing I could do about it.

The last 2 days of the walk, it rained pretty much all the time. I kept my spirits up when walking by singing, but mostly I felt low and sad and I missed my friends. I missed me too. I did not know what I was doing anymore. This feeling continued in Santiago. Then in the internet cafe Carlos, a member of the company of lost things, 6 of us who walked together for the first 12 days found me. We spent the rest of the day together, went to the fiesta in front of the catedral with a light show so movinng, all the pilgrims had tears in their eyes and I had to hold on to Carlos. The courtyard was full of pilgirms. Leading up to the light show we all sat and shared bread, cheese, wine and chocolate and talked, about everything. I did not talk about how I felt lost, or my revelations on the walk back.

If you follow your heart, the universe will provide everything you need. I know this is true. Too many times, have the things that I have needed been provided, in expected and unexpected ways, but even knowing this I didn´t like feeling like the water flowing to the sea.

Carlos and I took a bus to Sevilla with an Australian guy. We spent a night there and then went to Granada where the Aussie had a friend. We spent 3 days here and it´s given me time to sleep, recover and regain my sense of self. Having Carlos here is truely amazing because he knows me so well and we can give each other the support we need. We´ve also been to a few sights. I went to see a bullfight which is cruel but fascinating. In Granada there is an oustandingly beautiful palace where the Moors ruled Spain and other areas. Yesterday we all went to the beach as all Spaniards do on Sunday!

I am coming to terms with the illusion of controls in life and that to let your life flow like the stream is not to lack control but merely to find the easiest way to achieve what you want. I still know what I want to do, I suppose it´s just a different way of achieveing my personal goals. To flow instead of to push, to accept instead of to change but not to compromise.

So I wanted to write this now, to explain my state of mind. I was so tired when I left Santiago, and this certainly contributed to my lost feeling. I do not feel so lost now. Carlos has gone to Almeria and I head to Algeciras in 40mins. From there I will go to Gibralter for a day and then to Morrocco. In Granada we have been camping so I´ve had the chance to try my tent out. Granda is quite a cool city actually. The Aussie guy is supposed to be coming with me but I don´t know if he will make it. He´s been partying hard with his friend! If he does, great, if he doesn´t, also great. Different.

Hope you are all well and happy.

Lots of love

Kathryn xx