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Thursday, 4 July 2013


Unlike the pilgrims of old we didn't walk to Finisterre, our walking days are over, we went by taxi. You have to walk the sands and bathe your feet in the cool water. We have followed the sign of the shell and the yellow arrow for about five weeks and here at Finisterre you can walk along the golden sand and collect your own personal Camino shells. The path from Finisterre, which literally means Finis Terra the end of the earth, finishes at the lighthouse and at that point you can not only feel but can see the vastness of creation, the seemingly never ending sea. This feeling of closure for us was in many ways a relief from the pressure of the journey and like the ancient pilgrim we washed ourselves in the sea. Well Austin, Mary and Pauline went for a paddle whilst I went for a quick swim. Unfortunately you are not allowed to perform another tradition of the Camino when pilgrims burned their travelling clothes before their wash. Traditions are fast disappearing. Last night was the last time our group would meet as pilgrims and even then the Camino threw in a surprise, Philip and Ann arrived from Finisterre and were followed by absent friends Matt and Kielib. I would like to share our blog with one of these remarkable people Philip T Hackett who composed the following :
           Los Peregrinos.
The pilgrim has no country
As he walks along the way.
He belongs to a band of brothers
Worn by stone and clay.
He speaks no tongue, but,
The language of fellowship.
By night or day all roads
Lead the same way.
To the tomb of the apostle
In a starlit field.
When you get there,fellow pilgrim
Bend a knee. Yield.
Offer it up, give it over
Set yourself free.
In the hallowed halls of Santiago
Is where a tired soul should be.

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