The end of the world. So beautiful, so happy to be here, and so sad that it's all essentially over (tomorrow's walk is 'just for fun').
I can't write anything very coherent so instead, for one night only, I shall photoblog:
After about 15k we get our first sight of the sea (imagine you're a medieval pilgrim and you've never seen it before..)
Having come down a massive hill we walk along the coast road and through fishing villages. Here's a cemetery with a view...
Teresa's got sore feet but they're enormously helped by my (patent pending) lunchtime cure-all: extra strength ibruprofen plus two glasses of wine.
The coast here is so stunning. There's a small forest fire just off the camino and we see a helicopter scooping up water from the bay and dumping it on the fire.
The town of Finisterre sits next to the most beautiful beach. We rashly abandon our boots and walk barefoot. Until we realise we do need to hit the road again after all. Oops.
We locate our hotel above the harbour and Teresa opts for a nap while I walk on, rucksack-free, to the end of the world.
The final camino marker: 0.0 km to go, only the lighthouse beyond.
My feet enjoy the view at the end of the world. (All six-and-two-half toenails of them.)
It has been the most beautiful day. Don't know how I'm going to cope with normality after this!