Day 33: Fisterra (Santiago to Fisterra)
Dear lord, waking up after at a leisurely 8am but with a stupendous hangover was a sort of oxymoron that I am not accustomed to of late. Having played pool and camped in a bar with everyone for several hours and by some sort of a miracle traced my way back to the albergue I was ready to never walk anywhere again!
Without the usual routine of tending to blisters, tiger blaming and massaging my legs and then vaselineing my toes individually before easing them into my holey socks, I was wandering around like a lost soul this morning and just sort of loitered around talking to people - it was really strange!
With time to kill, as everyone else was sleeping, I waddled off in search of a barbers to sort out my homeless visage. Obviously, a vast number of people have commented on how feral and dangerous I look yet with an air of handsomeness that only a ragged beard can bring. Despite the disappointment to the female population in general, I don't like it so am going back to my stubby self.
The barbers was surprisingly busy for 9am and I joined an steady stream of men waiting for a trim. As there wasn't much to do with the top of my head, I feel that the barber was looking for something to do so suggested a wet shave? What the hell I though, sounds pleasant enough, and after pain stakingly explaining that I wanted stubble left he got to work.
Firstly, he poured warm water over a white towel and wrapped it around my face so that on my nose was prodrudong through a little gap in the middle - I must have looked like a bloody cherry bakewell! Having been left in this ridiculous position for a while he returned, removed it and put another over my eyes, not before however her extravagantly flicked a cut throat Razor around in his fingers! Feeling tense and blind I sat straight as a poker as he went to work on my face. Actually, the whole thing was quiet lathargic and I could easily have fallen asleep.
When I came around (it could have been a few minutes or an hour) I felt transformed as I looked in the mirror. I am slightly upset now it's done though as I look more like a tourist than a nomadic traveller, my street cred is in tatters! He gave me a small red pin to stick in huge map on the wall to show where their clients had come from, I was the first pin in Wales, I'm happy to report, which filled me with a vacuous and inwarrrented sense of pride!
As I have developed the outstanding ability to fall asleep anywhere, I managed to sleep for the entire two hour bus journey to Fisterra! Glorious! On arrival, I traipsed around the quaint fishing village and port several times before actually finding my albergue. Its a nice set up with a big clean kitchen and, amusingly, an entire troop of scouts!
After returning to my albergue, settling down and putting my tanning attire on (a slutty vest and some teeny shorts) I headed out for an explore. The familiar sounds of cawing seagulls and dappling of waves made for a very tranquil setting underneath the scorching sun.
To cap off my day I got a taxi (no more walking for Matthew!) the lighthouse and the southern peninsula of Fisterra. On arrival the 'Coast of Death' looked at odds with its name, the Pacific Ocean glittered in the shallow waters and hardly a wave crest disturbed the mill pond calmness as far the the horizon. Seeing the 'end of the world' (this was the most westerly know point until the discovery of the Americas) was a great epilogue to my Camino and I am sure that Muxia tomorrow will be equally brilliant.
Just before the lighthouse there is a camino post that marks the end of the Santiago to Fisterra camino route (a three day walk), so that made for a great photo opportunity but there was literally no one there having a photo taken with it, I expected the queue to be around the block!
I've got my bus ticket ready for tomorrow, 9:45 gives a chance to get yet another lie in! I'm spoiling myself!