Arca to Santiago de Compostelo

We stayed at a cute water mill made into a Casa Rural with about 6 rooms, very quiet and clean, run by three partners, one of whom (Javier)spoke English.

We had decided to get an early start and not to wait for breakfast at the inn, since that service would only start at 8 AM. So we rose at 6:30, packed our stuff up for the last time, and used up the last two of our precious protein powders to fortify us with 42 grams of protein each. Javier dropped us off on the Camino right where he picked us up just at 8:00 AM, when it was getting almost light enough to see the Camino markers on the trail.

The first part of the walk was mostly through eucalyptus forest, and it was dark inside the trees as the faint light from impending dawn did not penetrate the path. We walked carefully, enjoying the smell of the trees in the wet, but longing for coffee. We took off our rain gear, which is hot, as it was not raining hard enough to warrant it, and we were thankful for every minute of walking without rain because of hearing a negative weather report.

The first coffee came about 9:30 and the only substantial food they had was a tuna fish  empanada. This was rejected loudly by a new camino walker (those with less than 100 kilometers under their belts) with ¨I do not eat fish before noon¨ but we veterans had no such squeamishness and scarfed it down. Leslie also fortified herself with a diet coke can placed in her side pack. We changed our socks and cooled our feet for the last time before the final 12 Km into center of the old city.

It rained as we left the cafe, and we climbed up and up a seemingly interminable mountain that was not shown in our guide. Then another one. The guide shows a relatively small series of climbs for the day but this was quite inaccurate but we were psychologically prepared for this as we had read our friends' Kay and Roger Heigel's description of the last day.

We ran into Camino friends in the cafe, and all along the way, walking with some of them for a while, and meeting some that we had not met or talked to before. All of us shared the experience and the excitement that we would soon make it to our destination. We were expecting to be walking in a large long line but this did not happen, as it was only a few of us together at anyone time and usually they were perigrinos from many miles ago. There was no remaining social reserve, and people offered to photograph others as we passed kilometer markers, signs, and churches. We talked to a German girl with a sprained ankle that we last saw just below O'Cebreiro, and she was still limping but cheerful after walking on it over 150 Kms. She had to get back to college in a few days, flying out of Barcelona.

We were hit by a deluge and some wind as we came close to the top of Mount Gozo, which overlooks the city, and we sheltered under a deserted village roof for a few minutes, joined by a German man who came up a few minutes after us and recognized the advantages of our position. Leslie happily consumed her diet coke saved for just such an occasion. Then it cleared again as we went down into the outskirts of the city, following the yellow arrows and pectin shells placed in the sidewalks. Past the modern car dealers, furniture stores, and the nondescript buildings to reach the edge of the old city and be greeted with another deluge that kept us sheltering under a cafe's awning until it slowed. When the trail became unclear, a stranger saw our uncertainty and pointed us in the right direction.

As we walked the last few hundred meters through the cute old city, we saw the tall and somewhat thinner and more bearded figure of Mark, the young German, leaning out of a cafe' door, and greeted him. He had come in on Saturday, although he had been forced by an injured knee to take a bus for the descent from O'Cebreiro, and he said he limped 40 Km to get in. He directed us to the place to get our certificate, or Compostella, certifying we had walked far enough to qualify as pilgrims. There was an enormous line, and we were soaked, carrying our packs, and dying to get off our feet. No such luck! We had to wait for 45 minutes, gradually moving forward in the line, and finally were given our compostellas. We promptly bought a plastic carrying case and put them in for safe keeping.

Next we went to our hotel, which kept us standing while the room was fixed up, and then we finally got a hot shower. After putting on our social clothes (the alternative to the wet hiking attire), we went out to get some lunch at 3:30 PM or so, and also to find friends from the Way. Several waved at us from open cafe's, including Mark, and we told them we would be cruising the cute streets filled with bars, restaurants, and souvenir shops for the next several days. We have not seen anything like it in any of the cities we visited, and certainly not for the last 100 Km, which has been through farms and small villages.

It is certainly great to make it to Santiago. We are planning to visit the Cathedral for the visit and noon Pilgrim's Mass tomorrow, hopefully with many friends who have been arriving about the same time as us.