Are you planning to walk Via de la Plata? I hope my experience walking this challenging but rewarding Camino de Santiago can offer some insight into what you can expect. This is the fourth and last part of this series.
This personal reflection on the last part of my Camino was long overdue. But I’m finally wrapping up this sort of memoir of my first Camino de Santiago with the final stages from Ourense to Santiago de Compostela.
It was an eventful, intense, and rewarding Camino, from start to finish. But this last part was probably the one that humbled me the most. You know when you get close to reaching a goal and you get all smug and overconfident? That’s usually when life throws you a curveball, and you get humbled fast! That’s how this last part of the Camino felt.
Before getting into it, I just wanted to remind you that this is part four of my Camino stories. You can find the other three below:
- Via de la Plata Part 1: Sevilla to Mérida
- Via de la Plata Part 2: Mérida to Salamanca
- Via de la Plata Part 3: Salamanca to Ourense
Stage 33: Ourense to Cea
After a well-deserved break in Ourense, I set out for a short stage on day 38 of the Camino. We only had 22 kilometers to walk, a breeze compared to what I’d done so far. However, we knew this stage started with either a short but steep uphill or a longer, steady climb. We figured it would be best just to get it done with and opted for the steep climb.
After a much fancier breakfast than usual in Ourense, with a croissant and a nice and foamy cappuccino, I made my way along the river to meet up with B just before leaving the city behind. We stopped at a Lidl for snacks, a real treat on this Camino. With our backpacks just slightly heavier, we were ready to face the climb!
It was probably even tougher than I expected, and my inability to take it slow and steady only made it worse. By the time we made it to the top of the hill, I was soaked. But the worst part was done now; we only had a short and pleasant stage ahead of us.
The rest of the way was an easy stroll through dense and misty forests, with the occasional sunrays peeking through the foliage. Along the way, we started doing some research on the following stage and realized the Albergue we would have stayed at the next night (in Castro Dozón) was closed.
Realizing we would need to walk further, we tried to make arrangements to stay in a place just after Cea, but it was already fully booked. We were getting the first signals that we were walking the last 100 kilometers to Santiago, and that the rest of the way wouldn’t be as chill as it had so far.
Our suspicions were immediately confirmed when we made it to the Albergue Municipal in Cea to find that most of the lower bunks were occupied by backpacks, but no pilgrims anywhere in sight. We later discovered the beds had been kept occupied for some pilgrims doing an organized Camino tour by bike. Not cool.
On the bright side, we had a late lunch at a local restaurant that, for a surprising change, served a side of broccoli (!!!) instead of the usual fries. That made my day – along with the fact that we did manage to snatch the last remaining lower bunks!
Stage 34: Cea to Lalín
Early that morning, we had yet another sign pointing to the fact that our chill Camino was over. At 6.30, way earlier than my usual wake-up time, I was awakened by the incessant noises of people packing their backpacks. The race to the next Albergue was beginning.
Given that the Albergue in the official stop in Castro Dozón was closed, and we didn’t want to walk over 33 kilometers to A Laxe (Bendoiro), we decided to take a short detour and stay in Lalín. The morning was crisp but sunny, and the walk was pleasant. We enjoyed the fresh air, stopped to smell the roses, and somehow managed to take a wrong turn and accidentally get off the official path, shortening the way in doing so.
We met some pilgrims when we stopped for our coffee break at Café Fraga in Castro Dozón. After chatting with some of them, we realized some were just going to catch a bus or take a taxi for the rest of the way to Lalín. We had booked our beds in Lalín, so we stopped for some groceries and continued on our way.
I won’t say I regretted not catching the bus, but the second part of this stage was tough. To avoid a long detour, we opted for an alternative way that cut straight to Lalín alongside a big road. That led us to walk several kilometers on tarmac, immediately shattering our smugness for not giving into the temptation and pushing forward on foot.
We arrived at the Albergue in Lalín to find that all the lower bunks had been occupied by pilgrims who arrived earlier by catching the bus. When we got to talking, we also found out they were only doing the last 100 kilometres. Now, I’m not one to judge, but I did feel slightly annoyed by the circumstances, given everything we’d been through over the past 900+ kilometers and five weeks.
A run to the grocery store and dinner with tortilla and a fresh salad made me feel better. Even more so did the soft duvet that I’d so dearly missed ever since I’d entered Galicia and stayed at the cold and impersonal albergues municipales.
Stage 35: Lalín to Bandeira
Day 40 was off to a great start! We treated ourselves to a fancy breakfast with an avocado toast in a nice café in Lalín before hitting the road. The first part was through a beautifully curated park skirting a river that led us out of the city. We learned that this stage was part of the Camino de Invierno, which explained why there were even more pilgrims around.
I was in a particularly good mood and rushed through the park, passing big groups of pilgrims. But I soon started feeling pain in my left leg, on the lower part of my shin. It came in short pangs now and then, and I didn’t pay it too much attention. I slowed down just slightly, stopped to remove a layer, and kept going.
I’d gotten into the habit of holding my water bottle instead of keeping it in my backpack. I was deep in conversation with B when I thought about drinking some water and realized I didn’t have my bottle anymore. A flashback from when we stopped to remove a layer and I placed my bottle on top of a concrete fence invaded my mind.
I’d carried that bottle for over 900 kilometers, a gift from a friend many years before, when I first started talking about doing the Camino. Just the day before, I was telling B about this bottle and how I should take a picture with it when I reached Santiago and send it to my friend. Now the bottle was no more.
We were a few minutes from a bar where we had planned to have a break, so we kept walking. After debating for a while, I made the insane decision of walking back 3.5 kilometers to hopefully retrieve my bottle. I kindly asked the bar staff if I could leave my backpack there, told B I would meet him further ahead, and rushed back. I ran nearly the whole way back and found my bottle right where I’d left it. The joy didn’t last long, because I realized the run had only worsened the pain in my shin. The pangs were more frequent and more intense now. I still rushed back to the bar to retrieve my backpack and continued on my way, adding 7 kilometers to what was supposed to be a short and chill stage.
I walked to the following town, Silleda, where I decided to stop for coffee. I had to slow the pace, so B was further ahead, and we decided we’d meet at the Albergue in Bandeira. I switched from my hiking boots to sandals, hoping it would somehow lessen the pain.
The last 6.5 kilometers to Bandeira were pure agony. Pain was now shooting through my shin with every step, as if someone was repeatedly plunging a knife into my leg. Not that I’d ever experienced that, but that’s how I imagined it would feel. Only much later would I realize that my affliction was shin splints.
I don’t even know how I made it back to the Albergue, but I did, and I felt such relief at finally being done with the day. Luckily, the Albergue wasn’t too crowded, and we enjoyed a nice dinner with food we bought from a grocery store. I had gone all of two days without any physical affliction on this Camino. At least I knew the next stage was only 17 kilometers long.
Stage 36: Bandeira to O Outeiro
I woke up only to find that the pain had not left my leg. Brilliant. I immediately talked to B and told him to walk ahead at his own pace and not worry about me. I didn’t want to slow him down and force my leg too much. Not that I could, even if I wanted to.
I took my time and started walking only around 9 am, after a leisurely breakfast in Bandeira, where we met other pilgrims. I was walking at a painfully slow pace when someone caught up to me at what would have been my usual speed. This pilgrim had walked the Camino de Invierno and was heading straight to Santiago. He kindly slowed down, and we walked together for the day.
The entire day was almost uneventful. The pain in my leg didn’t cease. On the contrary, the area was now swelling up, so I walked slowly, took breaks, and arrived in O Outeiro around 1.30 pm. The albergue was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, which I loved. The surroundings were lush and serene. Unfortunately, it did fill up so much that, by the time the last group of pilgrims arrived in the late afternoon, there were no more beds left.
As we walked to the lunch place, roughly 1.5 kilometers away, we came across a white horse grazing in a field. It was a full-circle moment as I recalled seeing a white horse on my very first day of the Camino, just outside of Sevilla. Six weeks and one thousand kilometers later, this white horse somehow signaled the end of my journey.
Stage 37: O Outeiro to Santiago de Compostela
It was a gray and moody morning on our last day of the Camino. We had an early start and began walking through thick fog hanging over the trees and hiding everything from view just a few meters ahead. It was an eerie atmosphere, but I kind of enjoyed it.
This was it. The last few kilometers of a memorable Camino. The atmosphere suited my mood. Yes, I was happy that I had almost done it, but I also felt a bit sad at the thought that it would all end. Plus, I was pissed that I was ending my Camino limping. But then again, this was a suitable end to my experience.
Pain of some sort had been an almost constant companion during those six weeks, but it made me realize what I was capable of. Against all odds, I found strength in that pain. It fueled me instead of stopping me, and I felt pride swelling in my chest as I slowly walked those last kilometers. I had just walked one thousand kilometers while dealing with more physical ailments than I’d had to face in many, many years before.
Luckily, that last day was very short. We had specifically planned it so we would only have to walk 16 kilometers to Santiago. This allowed us to reach the city early and head straight to the pilgrim office to get our Compostela. So we started walking around 7.30 am and we were in Santiago by 11.40 am.
B walked with me, despite my slow pace and persistent pain in my leg. He was amazed at my commitment – or stubbornness – and honestly, so was I. After a slight detour and nearly getting lost following the app, we stumbled across the first bar in 100 kilometers that ripped us off. We spent 9€ on two coffees and some meager slices of toasted bread – a sorry excuse for a tostada.
Realizing we were missing our second stamp for the day, we stopped at another bar for coffee, just before reaching Santiago. One last moderately steep hill led us to the city center and our final destination: the pilgrim office. We got our Compostela and certificate of distance before finally heading to the cathedral square. We registered online, which sped up the process significantly.
Some people cry when they reach the square. Some take off their backpacks and lie on the ground, exhausted yet happy. I didn’t know what to feel. It was a weird and confusing state. I was relieved, happy, proud, grateful, and sad, all at the same time. I didn’t shed a tear, but I sat there, looking at the cathedral, and finally fully acknowledged what I’d achieved.
I walked one thousand kilometers in six weeks. But that was such a simple way to put it into words. It wasn’t enough. The truth is, it’s hard to put into words just how much an experience like this can impact your life. I’m still feeling the consequences of that walk, in the strangest ways. One thing I can say for certain: I am grateful for it.
The end of the Camino… is only the beginning
That’s what they say. The Camino begins when you finish walking. That’s when you start to process everything you’ve experienced during those weeks of waking up, walking, walking, walking, eating, sleeping. And repeat. Day after day.
I’m not a fan of routine, but I got to love that one. It’s like “real life” starts fading away after a while. All you know is that you need to wake up and walk. Then rest, and walk some more. And it’s liberating, not having to think of anything else. Not having anything on your to-do list except reaching the next destination and finding a place to sleep.
It’s true, to some extent, that the Camino begins only after you’ve walked it. Even now, years later, I feel the ripple effects of that Camino. Maybe it’s because it was the first, but it has truly meant a lot to me. I walked another Camino after that, and though it was an amazing experience, it wasn’t even nearly the same. Maybe it’s the people who make all the difference, or it’s the path you choose to walk, or maybe it’s the novelty. More likely, it’s a combination of all these factors and more.
When I finally spoke with that friend who had gifted me the water bottle, he asked me what I’d learned from this Camino. I jokingly answered, “That life is full of suffering”. It sounds miserable, I know. And it was a joke, but it’s also a bit true. There’s suffering in facing the unknown, in challenging yourself, in going outside your comfort zone, and in facing hardship. In my case, there was a lot of physical pain. But it’s also a deeper, emotional suffering. But you can succumb to it, and give up, or transform it into strength.
I think the Camino is a great metaphor for life. We all have different experiences, but we all eventually reach the same destination. Some have it easy, others face tons of hardships. Some take shortcuts, others are strict and follow all the rules, and others accept that perfection doesn’t exist and it’s okay to get some help at times. Some do it with unwavering faith, others try to find themselves or at least gain some clarity into their lives. Some seek company in others, and some only want their own company. And they are all right, because they are on their own path.
Okay, that’s it with the metaphors and deep talk. My Camino memoir ends here, but I’m sure the real Camino is still ongoing. I hope you found my experience helpful in some way, whether it was entertaining, inspiring, or insightful.
If you’ve been reading this because you want to walk Via de la Plata, you may want to check out my other, more practical posts.
Buen Camino!
