Camino 12: Finisterre, the End of the World

Camino 12
Wednesday, 16th October, 2019.

"I don't know who I am.  And I don't think people ever will know who they are.  We must be humble enough to learn to live with this mysterious question.  I am a mystery to myself.  I am this pilgrimage from the moment that I was born to the day to come that I'm going to die.  What I have to do is to honour this pilgrimage through life.  I am this pilgrim."  (Paulo Coelho).
From Fr Michael's daily reflections.

Today we drove an hour and a half west of Santiago to the seaside town of Finisterre on the rocky Costa da Morte (Coast of Death) named because of the large number of shipwrecks along these shores over the centuries. (Val told us that the sea here is "untrustable".)  It was fortunate that we went by bus, as it was pouring with rain.

 The untrustable sea.

We walked through the wind and rain (mainly up) in the beautiful town to the church where Val had been told we could have Mass.

Waiting for the church to be opened.  The reason the church was not open was because, without telling Val, it was decided that we should use a different church.

 Walking through more wind and rain to the next church.  Cherie is lovingly protecting her guitar.

 At least at this church there was some shelter from the rain, if not the wind.

The sacristan arrived with the key.  She had been cooking for her family.  We entered by a small side door.

Although simple on the outside, the church was very beautiful and colourful inside.  During Mass there was a hammering at two of the still-locked doors.  Two busloads of German pilgrims had arrived early for their Mass and to go to the toilet).  Despite the fact that they didn't speak Spanish or English, Val eventually managed to persuade them to go off for a coffee until we had finished.

This was our final Mass for the pilgrimage.  What will we each take home with us ?  How will we be changed?  How can we be changed? It will be different for everyone.

We then drove to Cape Finisterra, the "end of the world", one of the most western points of Spain.  This is the last cross of the Camino, where pilgrims used to traditionally burn their boots or unwanted clothing at this optional extra section of the Camino.  (This is not allowed now, due to fire danger, not that there was any danger of fire today.)  There does seem to be a little bundle of something at the foot of the cross.  Imagine the wind and the rain here.  I took this photo without realising that it was Michael contemplating the cross in these blustery conditions. 

At our farewell dinner, Peter, our deacon, made a presentation to Val and Michael, thanking them for guiding us through this very memorable pilgrimage.  As well as cards featuring the Cathedral of Santigo de Compostela, the presentation included kiwi tea towels Cherie and Erling had brought from New Zealand.

A girl at the next table was celebrating her birthday, so Michael decided to give her a birthday kiss on behalf of us all.

I think she thought her dreams had all come true until he told her he was a "padre."

 Our celebratory dinner consisted of a never-ending succession of tapas dishes.  This is potatoes with brava sauce.

 With Cherie, my prayer partner from New Zealand.  I will continue to pray for you.

Walking back to our hotel in the rain.  Water ran in rivers over the stone-paved streets.  What a night!