So our walk to the end of the world is over. We are now on the train taking us to France where Alex's parents will meet us and drive us the rest of the way.
Our last week on the Camino from Santiago to Fisterra was pretty special. The numbers of pilgrims dropped right down and I suspect there weren't even 20 a day doing the last 90 odd km. I have loved meeting the various pilgrims we have encountered but I was happy to have the world to ourselves again for a few days. The weather was wonderful: proper crisp autumn days heating up nicely by mid-afternoon; the light on the leaves magical. We walked through plenty of woods and one morning along a river; occasionally there was tarmac and one morning only roads. But on the whole it was stunning: huge skies all for us.
And then towards the end of the third day we saw the sea in the distance and I think it was only at that moment that I registered the magnitude of what we had done. I can't explain how it felt to see the shimmering light ahead, but it was certainly a much stronger feeling than I had had when we got to Santiago.
The next day we walked to the lighthouse at Fisterra where the sea begins and the land ends. This, it turns out, was what we had always been walking towards.