It started clear but cold. We were coming off of one of the higher mountains in this region, so were able to see the islands in the fog effect, where the thick white mist from the sea pours through the different valleys and all you can see is a scenic meringue with the tips of mountains floating on top. It was warmer up on the mountains than below in the damp mist as we descended to the valley.
It was a short day, my blisters continued to trouble me so I wore sandals and socks; keeping my shoes in my day bag in case it rained. It was a relatively easy stage, going through dairy country. Elephantine lowing in the barns and valleys. We were held up by a small hatchback and rope looped across the road as a farmer moved her herd out of their barn and down the lane to the field. She was hollering for them to get a move on, while they splattered about on the road, slipping on their own effluent on the cobble stones. There was about a dozen pilgrims taking pictures and waiting for the cows but Jez, the American pilgrim from last week, stormed right through and we could see him in the middle of the herd as they finally started out. I regretted my choice of footwear as I tried not to squelch on what they left behind.
The Albergue we had sent our bags to had no beds but the Hospitaller phoned another place around the corner who said they had a couple of bunks. We had one of our best meals yet. It being Sunday, the Spanish often have their meal in a restaurant and the place was packed. Really good food, however Jo is missing the superb Rioja wine.

It was a steep climb out in the rain through the forests and over a big hill. As it starts cold these mornings, I was wearing full wet gear over my thermals, wool sweater, jacket etc. After spending an hour going straight uphill, I started to feel like a boil in the bag meal. It had stopped raining so I joined a French couple on the side of the path. They were also taking off a couple of layers and rain gear, and repacking their bags. It’s always a time consuming exercise. As soon as the lady had finished and gone a few paces up the hill I heard a “Putain!” as the downpour resumed. I put my rain gear back on.
At the 9km mark, as is our wont, we stopped for our doble café con leche and a piece of lemon cake. The necessary was around the back of this pretty little outpost. On my return, I was confronted with a pilgrim being explosively sick on the cobblestones at the side of the cafe. It seemed something had not agreed with him. I went inside to tell the señora, however my months on Duolingo did not supply me with the phrase, “excuse me, but there’s a pilgrim who has just been sick outside your front door, perhaps a bucket of water to sluice the path might be in order,” So I mimed it instead. She understood perfectly and told her husband to go clean it up.

We are in Galicia, which I believe is vulgar Latin for “will it ever stop raining?”. Another wet and cold day. We went up and down a little mountain, 940 meters in altitude. There were no flowers, just deep lanes of moss and fiddleheads. Huge trees covered in ivy hemmed the path. We had bought some food and protein bars, so we weren’t too worried about being in the woods today. Just before the 100km to Santiago mark, we saw people carriers drop off bunches of new pilgrims. 100km is the magic minimum distance on foot you need to do before you qualify for a certificate in Santiago.
It was a grey, uninspiring walk, with lots of extra people on the path, with clean, new equipment and rain gear, trilling about how beautiful it all was. Jo and I were feeling like jaded veterans, “You weren’t in Zubiri, man, you weren’t there..”.
Fortunately we were able to get the last two beds in the albergue we had chosen to send our packs to. We covered the 22km in 5 hours, which was good time. We celebrated with big plates of scallops and huge prawns and fried potatoes with garlic sauce.
In town we met the American nurse, Canadian Ed, and Rest Day Aussie. The latter is a physio who we met before Leon, she had done 39km the day before and was on her rest day so was only walking 20km. She told us a trick to loosen our ankles at night by tracing the alphabet in cursive with our big toes.

Another dud of a walking day. We were up and out the door by 6:19am, with our headlights on to light our way. We could already see a steady stream of pilgrims leaving town. It was raining slightly but I kept my sandals and socks on for 8 km as one of my toes was going through the colour wheel. The path was mostly on lanes, and taxis were picking up and dropping off pilgrims all day. Either we are Caminoed out, or the rain and cold and crowds on the paths of Galicia are getting to us.
We met up with refrigerator man and his friends; they are also planning on being in Santiago on Saturday.
We are staying at a big albergue with all the mod cons, so we were able to wash and dry our clothes and make tortellini with a simple sauce. Then we had a nap for a couple of hours along with most of the pilgrims; the heating is on but the cold and damp outside makes staying in the bunk bed the preferred option.
Jo has fortunately confirmed accommodation for tomorrow, so hopefully we can walk slower and arrive later than today; we covered the 25km in 5 hours, plus a couple of coffee breaks. We had to wait to check in again today.
I am trying to enjoy the last days of mindfulness and relaxation before going back to family and work, seeing if there are any last stones in my mind which need to be turned over. Instead I’m in danger of getting bored, after over 700 km and a month of walking. Mind numbingness over mindfulness. Gosh, I hope there’s no difference between the two.

We knew that there would be no stores or choice of meals in Ribadiso, so we stopped halfway in the town of Melide and picked up some monkfish, squids, and prawns; and a bottle of wine. It was another soggy day, and our route was merged with pilgrims coming from other caminos to the north.
At Ribadiso, the lovely Italian family running the albergue had a kitchen with enough implements for me to make a big pot of Paella. There was much more than we could eat, however our friend, Canadian Ed, walked through the door just as we were finishing and was tempted to a plate and glass. We also met a couple of Americans I had last seen getting on the bus in Belogrado about three weeks ago. It was so great to see that they had overcome their hurdles and rejoined the Camino.

And it continued to rain, we walked through villages and fields, more pilgrims joined, lots of taxis passed picking up pilgrims after they had done 5 km and then setting them down a few kilometres from the end of the stage. At the last 100km, you need to get two sellos, or stamps, to prove you were walking the last bit of the pilgrimage. O Pedrouzo was a small town but we were able to find a pizza place and then ice cream as the sun made an appearance for a few minutes.

Excitement at the prospect of finishing this journey propelled us out of our bunk beds at 5.30am and we were on the path in the dark and in pouring rain. Jo put her headlamp on for the first hour so we could avoid walking into puddles, trees, etc. we had full rain gear but after two hours we were soaked to the skin. Even Jo’s high performance rain jacket finally gave up. We squelched in torrential rain through the suburbs of Santiago which was veiled by a thick mist.
Finally we could see the spires of the Cathedral and rounding a corner, found ourselves in the Plaza del Obradoiro in front of the main entrance. Finally we had completed what we set out to do. We were relieved that we could stop walking, especially in the rain.
We had not had a break since Burgos, 20 days ago, and had walked on average 25km per day.