best part of the day: The Lighthouse Way pt 2

Lighthouse Vilan

We pick up the story (and the second half of the Spanish holiday) from Arou where we had just arrived, at MariCarmen, at a guest house that was three houses in from the far side. Literally! A pleasant woman met us at the front door and we did the passport registration thing, then were taken upstairs to our rooms. There was a small bedroom, a kitchen/living room area and shower-room. It was all very nice although there was no kettle or normal tea bags which was unusual. And while it was baking hot outside the interior was very cool. Cold even. There was no sign of air conditioning and it might have been the first time in several days we looked out jumpers to wear. While friendly and comfortable the noticeable temperature drop might have led some to believe the place was frequented by more than just the living.

At a pre-arranged time we descended to the restaurant to find only one of the eight tables set. There appeared to be someone else in the kitchen with MariCarmen but we never saw them. (I'm now imagining a Beauty and Beast scenario!) We had already chosen what we wanted for dinner - a vegetable paella - and it appeared, sizzling in a large cast iron skillet. It was great and one of the few nights we didn't have chips, croquettes or anything deep fried! I can't remember the beer / wine situation but do remember it all went down very well and we almost broke the icy weather down there with banter and good cheer.

What we didn't chat about was the atmosphere, which we later described as having perhaps a faintly tragic undertow. Which was not readily apparent and nothing you could point to, like an urn with MY DEAD FATHER inscribed in the centre of the bar. It was difficult to say exactly what coloured the ambience, but we both felt a measure of lingering sadness around the place. Perhaps it was just the lower-than-outside temperature. Perhaps it had been built on a native American burial ground. We never found out. More likely it could have been a couple of years of pandemic, machine-gunning the profit margin.

When I reviewed the accommodations for the travel company's feedback form I gave them all the highest grade because they were all head and shoulders above our usual package holiday hotel. Including this place. We slept well and my major gripe, which was a tiny one, apart from the lack of kettle and normal tea bags, was a 16 character password for the weefee. I maybe lost 14 seconds finding those capitals and special characters, so it wasn't a tripadvisor deal breaker. Also there was a washing machine and spin drier, should we have fancied the challenge of the Spanish instruction manual. I didn't see a delicado setting, so we did some social media and had an early night as the forecast was for bad weather ahead!

Day 5: Arouuuuuu to Camariñas.
In the morning it wasn't raining but looked like it was going to. When we set off, the Curly Girl was just ahead and wearing a rain-jacket. What does she know!? Quite a lot, evidently, and within minutes we were pulling on waterproofs as torrential rain power-hosed out the sky. I raced to get my camera covered and got a good soaking through to my socks. I was not happy! About 30mins later it was bright again so not a wash out all day. Mary's camera is slightly less susceptible to water damage so she got better angry sky photos. And it was quite picturesque in a stormy rainbowy way. We splashed through puddled trails and were more careful on slippy rock. The rock seemed to be high friction granite which is mostly super-grippy. But it could also bite chunks out of bare legs if you go down.

second dose of rain on the way

after the storm

fox moth caterpillar

who shat that!?

Which is a question we (Mary) posed to Chris Packham on twitter or somewhere online. He likes that sort of thing. He failed to respond as far as we know, but it would have been quite a large mammal (possibly badger/fox/otter) who was eating but not chewing his berries from the low shrub here...

stonechat (m)

I remembered this long trail along to the distant lighthouse. It seemed never ending when running it 3 years ago, not too bad today though. Probably much easier to walk, and the banter would have made it seem shorter. It is such a spectacular section of the walk. There was talk somewhere of a cafe but we never saw one. We spent quite some while chatting about the cakes we would have but the next house only contained barky dogs (behind fences) and no sign of a second breakfast. We began to think about how soon we might reasonably have lunch.

I think we may have overtaken Curly Girl earlier when she fell in with a slower group of older male hikers. When we went past she picked up the pace dropping the dudes but then spending a long time 150 yards behind us. When we stopped for lunch she came past, quick exchange of pleasantries and she was off. I don't think we saw her again. Lunch was good but not so filling we weren't thinking about a fictional cafe in the lighthouse up ahead. It had been closed when Nick and I passed by last time, but one can always dream. It was Sunday, maybe it will be open. It was pleasant if exposed walking up to the Lighthouse which remained quite far away for ages. I couldn't properly recall the remainder of the day, from there to Camariños except a church on a hill...

slow climb up a gradient

nearly there!

not nearly there!

The gulls found this roof irresistible. Probably a combination of a groove/niche just the right size and the angle just right for catching the warming sun. It might have been a sewage processing plant. It was quite remote and distant from anything - except, of course, the lighthouse.

small heath

We went into the main building of the lighthouse; it was open! Woohoo! Celebrations were cut short when it transpired the building did NOT contain a cafe! We were also told by the woman selling the 1 euro tickets that there was no access to the lighthouse. She spoke great English although it may have been just the necessary few sentences to offset the disappointments that had obviously plagued previous customers. No cafe, no access the the lighthouse. I wondered what we got for a euro: to see some old lightbulbs, size: large and extra large. Paintings and photos of the lighthouse, yes quite nice. Access to a toilet. Mary-yes, PB-no. There was also an exhibition of contemporary paintings that did not merit a close inspection. None of them came close to the nice painting below that was not part of the exhibition. It wasn't the worst euro spent.

suitably light touch

I had plenty time to recall the long snaking trail from the lighthouse to the church on the hill. It went on for some time and we tried to pass the time by chatting. Specifically about why things can drag on when you're flagging and how to improve a situation you can't avoid (other than by calling a taxi.) The problem is generally boredom and weariness. And a desire to be further along the trail. In fact all the way along the trail and into the pub at the other end having a cold beer. Beer good, walking bad. In order to get from one situation to the other in the least painful manner you have to not mind the situation you are in. More than that you have to embrace the situation, the present surroundings. Mary was describing mindfulness in essence, a scrutiny of your situation, an appreciation of all that abounds, so that you become the landscape, become the immediate, you no longer yearn to be out of it because you are it. I began to sing...

say YES to the cheese

say YES to the ham

say YES to the eggy eggy sandwich!

Mary joined in and soon we were at one with the world and our non-plant-based holiday.

tune out, turn on, lie down

I think we had had omelettes in our peekneeks today. Funny how you never think of slipping a folded omlette into a baguette until someone bucks the trend and pops one in. Not a masterchef move maybe, but it fills a corner and works just fine when it joins hands with its old friends the cheese and ham.

Just one decent photo between 2, of this running African mask as it bolted across our trail. An absolute belter, although small, fast and not looking for a job in blog modelling.

I liked this sign at a glance although now I've noticed the N and Z are upside down

the initial impression has faded

Suddenly we're here! It worked! (Church on the hill edited out because the only thing of note was a large well behaved dog off-leash that wandered over for a sniff but walked off unimpressed.) Nick and I stayed here 3 years ago and have happy memories of rinsing through shorts and letting them dry under a scorchio sun on the balcony while eating snacks and drinking clara-de-limons. Mary and I are shown to a room at the top facing the bay - you can see the dormer window in the photo above. Lovely niche in which to sit. I volunteered to do a supermarket sweep and asked the dude at reception on the way out, where the nearest one was. Two minutes he said and pointed along the road. I had a big empty carrier bag with me which might have been a clue to him why I was asking. So imagine my surprise when it was indeed 2 mins along the road and closed. I wandered around and found another, also closed. Maybe even a third. Three different lace shops were open but all the food shops in the whole town were closed. We had arrived around 4pm (very hungry) and the first food on sale would be 8 o'clock.

We had to work this out by deduction, googling, and another trip round town with extra shouting. We were now so hungry I was wondering if the lace shops did anything in edible lace or with a tomato sauce. We even had a drink in a bar just to get some peanuts and crisps but they didn't have any for sale (they said). It was as if they had passed an unspoken law about not eating on a Sunday between the hours of 1pm and 8pm. It reminded me of the plot to Footloose, only food-based not dance-based, though probably wouldn't make as good a movie.

the lace shops have these weird dioramas outside
alas none with cheese snacks

Eventually, just shortly before Mary and I drew straws to see who got to eat who, we got into a bar that started serving food. Mary has been studying Spanish on Duolingo for 2 years and has a reasonable grasp of many of the oddities on a Spanish menu. But the waitress reckoned she spoke English so we pointed to the menu and first up was a pork dish. Second up was pork. Third, pork. Fourth, surprise! Pork. She started pointing to parts of herself to show from where the cuts of pork were taken. We started at the top and chose Raxo (pronounced rasho) and she suggested one portion between us would be enough. When we finished it - and it was outstandingly fantastic - we asked for a portion of the next pork down. The first one had been with potatoes cut nearly as thin as crisps and kind of dry casseroled. I can't remember the second one being on the plate long enough to describe but it was not quite as good as the first, but still like a lifeline to a drowning man.

Day 6: Camariñas to Cereixo
Breakfast the next day was in the hotel restaurant (which had been closed the night before sadly). We met, yet again, the Swiss couple and enjoyed an excellent self serve breakfast buffet involving a variety of unrelated foodstuffs. Mary would raise an eyebrow if she saw me spreading jam on toast and adding meat and cheese, but isn't that what holidays are for? Anyway there was cake and so much of everything that I felt an additional peekneeker of meat/cheese sandwich with a small section of cake on top was a suitable revenge for the 2 minutes away supermarket advice. By way of moral compensation I never once removed a fancy shampoo or aromatic soap from a hotel bathroom. And there were many. Not because I wasn't washing you understand, but mostly because there wasn't a stripper's knickers worth of extra space in the North Face Bag.

curiously masculine Mary and feminine JC

For the remainder of our peekneek needs we went to the supermercado (2 minutes along there you say?) and bought a baguette. And packs of meat and cheese. You can see the bread looking out from behind Mary's shoulder in the photo above.

There was lots of beautiful waterside scenery again, and a donkey and a sleeping mole, and just in time for an early lunch we came across these peekneek tables in the woods. It was splendid and I wanted to take a photo of us in the distance having lunch outside in the woods like proper Europeans. I set the camera to 10 secs self timer and sprinted like a madman the 100 yards to our table. It went off just before I got seated, try again. This is the closest to intervals I got in the whole of September. Second dash and I just got behind the stone table. Not quite in situ, but good enough, given I'd travelled the distance 5 or 6 times before we left. Mary was shouting be careful as she could imagine me tripping just in front of the table and taking a header onto one of the gravestone table corners and goodnight Vienna!

little fluffy tail and very human hands

10 sec sprint selfie!

treecreeper

Spanish chestnut

diminutive Jesus

this car seemed to be following us
Maybe they just park it outdoors on a sunny day and let it work its magic subliminally?

lemon jelly

this little monkey pretended to be seeing us off its premises

geranium bronze

Edward, the large hopper

There were loads of dragonflies, but very few landed to have their photo taken.

We enjoyed small trails between wooded areas and large roads into small towns. Lots of interesting wildlife to try and photograph. We heard jays several times but didn't see them. Eventually saw one back in Santiago but didn't get a photo. Many dragonflies and quite a few butterflies. Not all stopped for a photo but it was good to see loads about and the trees seemed full of chirping birds.

prickly pear cactus in flower?

nicely painted career woman mural

goat finding shade under corn kennel

guard cat

I thought this looked like scotty dogs but turned out to be a cat fountain

these corn kennels were all over the place
raised on mushroom stilts to protect corn from rats and mice

At this point the sun was so hot (and we'd been out in it for miles without much shade) that Mary was feeling worse for wear and had to have a sit down while I chased butterflies. It wasn't long before she was feeling like walking again so we headed up the last mile to our place for the night. We got there shortly although the route notes said not to turn up before 4pm to check in. It was just before 3pm. I would have gone up and knocked at the door and if they were busy, asked if it were okay to sit in the pretty garden, but Mary, who was still feeling wobbly, said I had a problem with authority and couldn't I just respect the rules for once. I looked at them again and sure enough they said don't turn up before 4pm. So we wandered half a mile down the road and sat on a wall. Mary sat in the shade and played scrabble on her phone, I chased butterflies in the field next door (spotted a holly blue but no pics) and down the verge of the road we just came up. There were some fly-by Clouded Yellows and I found a small sooty copper laying eggs on the roadside vegetation. The hour whizzed by quickly and both of us felt better and less narky by the time we climbed the hill to the guest house again.

our place for the night - converted farmhouse

roadside charmers

sooty copper

2 white eggs and 2 newly laid green ones

in process of laying a green egg

four white eggs and one newly laid green one

close up
I didn't even think to bring them home!

everpresent stonechat

Approaching the farmhouse we could hear our hostess chattering on the phone. When we rang the bell she appeared and ushered us in. She was Maria and could speak several languages but English wasn't one of them. Actually she spoke English quite well sprinkled with French and Spanish and maybe German too, and through hand gestures and charades she easily managed to convey all she needed to. She was fabulously accommodating and said if we needed anything just shout.

She also managed to inquire hadn't she seen us appear earlier in the afternoon? We mentioned the 4pm rule in the notes and she said not at all, of course it would have been absolutely fine and we should have just come on in. Again I managed to refrain from any kind of told you so victory dance. Maria was an unprepossessing figure but exuberant personality and pretty much the only one who referenced our dietary preferences all holiday. Weeks ago On Foot Holidays had asked did we have any. I replied we had a preference for vegan and plant-based though we realised Galicia did not, and we did not want to rock the boat but were prepared to enjoy local culture and cuisine. I wasn't sure if they would even bother to flag it up to the few hosts who were preparing our evening meals. Obviously word had got through in this case. We said to Maria to cook whatever was easiest. She said since we were vegetarians the fish would be most suitable and we agreed it would. We had been meaning to try the local seafood which is a large part of the Galician menu due to the rich Atlantic waters along the coast. We showered and relaxed while Maria cooked our dinner.

lace bobbins; work in progress in the eating area

The set up wasn't dissimilar to Arou - a large room with about 8 tables, all empty except the one at which we were to sit. However the atmosphere was very much more warm and chatty. Somewhere in the background a cd was playing. It started with Jean-Michel Jarre's "Oxygene". This made us both laugh as it is very similar to the background music that Limmy uses for his Falconhoof sketches. We had been referencing Falconhoof as he kind of fits in with the whole (cosplay) pilgrim thing. "Hello traveller...."

I think there was a standard charge for the evening meal plus any booze was additional. We asked for a bottle of red which appeared without a label on the front of the bottle. Maria bustled about and produced a large plate of hake cooked with potatoes and large salad. We were really hungry and ate well. Was there a dessert as well? Ahh yes a sort of puréed apple dish using apples from the garden. Much of the salad had also come from the garden.

It was all very tasty and then Maria brought out the cafe liqueur. She poured us both a shot and gave us a tale of how it is made and how that process makes it much superior to the likes of baileys or amaretto etc. There was a good deal of chat with words from many languages which made it fun and lively and it felt more like a party than a transaction. I was sad there wasn't a second round of liqueur but it was possibly just as well. Mary's knowledge of Spanish was really helpful. Usually about the place I was losing sight of the conversation she would still be picking up words she recognised and following the plot. Out on the trail we had discussed this limbo in which we lived ; that it was living (or falling into the gap) between languages. Still thinking in English but having everything written and spoken in Spanish and often Galician Spanish. Just another obstacle when travelling. In Tenerife about 80% or more of the locals spoke English. Here it seemed about 20%, maybe. I slightly relied on Mary taking the lead since she hadn't missed a duolingo daily lesson in 2 years, but there weren't too many times conversations were required - most of the day we were on our own.

We slept well and woke early to do the Long Cram and get breakfast, this time served by Julio. He was very charming and made our packed lunches while we gorged on a massive breakfast. If I remember right it was a 5 course breakfast. (While Oxygene played again.) Fruit juice, fruit salad, omelette & bacon, extreme crust toast (with jam meat and cheese) and cake to finish (and coffee). Did we want more bread? No!!! We only finished the last bits out of politeness and also the challenge. He was a mechanic or engineer but was doubling up as breakfast chef and host. The peekneek bags were tied immaculately. When we left we thanked him profusely (and gave a small tip settling the wine bill) and he took Mary's hands and said it was a pleasure to have us in his house. All very heady stuff for so early in the morning! It was definitely one of the best places we stayed.

Mary (the teetotaller) with glass in either hand!

Dat 7: Cereixo to Muxia
We set off before the sun had properly risen above the low cloud. We were surprised to head behind the farmhouse and across fields and tracks between trees for a while before returning to the coast. The variety was fun although it was only when we got closer to the water that the sun came out properly and the birdlife began to stir. There was a large gathering of crows wheeling round and settling in the trees and all calling at the same time across the estuary.

looking across to Muxia (Mooshia)

lots of snails enjoying the dew and shade before the sun reached them

I remembered this beach well from last trip. This time Mary and I noticed the green markers which rise up the rocks and into the tree line. I think last time Nick and I had a bit of a scramble over the rocks nearer the sand.

large slugs

Above is the only poor photo I got of a very strange ichneuman or similar which flew with its body at 90' to the rest. It had very fast moving wings and kept its legs outstretched as it flew looking like a seedhead or fluffball. I lost trace of it nearly as soon as I saw it. We headed into a boardwalk area at the watery bottom of a stream filled gorge. I really enjoyed this section last time seeing wood white butterflies and beautiful demoiselles. Unfortunately it was a bit overcast as we went through it and apart from this one weird wasp there were no other insects flying. I stopped to look but not for long as Mary was keen to stop for lunch and was looking for a suitable spot.

just perfect holiday scenery!

We stopped where the boardwalk area spilled out onto a beach. We sat on the boardwalk and ate the sandwiches and funny biscuits and a piece of fruit. There were a few white butterflies flitting about and a solitary and non-landing clouded yellow nearer the turn off trail at the end of the beach. A fellow traveller appeared from the wrong direction asking if we knew if this was the Lighthouse Way to Muxia. He was wearing a scallop shell. (A sure sign of reduced intelligence.) We explained it was, but you had to take note of the green markers and follow them. He ignored this straight away and headed round the rocky headland coast. The green markers led off up the hill going inland for a bit. Mary felt guilty letting him go the wrong way. I suspected if we started looking after him we'd end up holding his hand all the way to Muxia, and had no trouble letting him do his own navigation.

non lander

well that's not right!

There were occasional misdirections along the way. Some variation in paintwork colour was a clue and other bits like this you just follow the sat-nav suunto or eTrex. The route was only in one direction, always heading South to Finisterre (the end of the earth). However we had the feeling local directions maybe guided hikers on a circular route near a town and therefore there might be some overlap with official Lighthouse Way markers. We never really had any of this confirmed and had enough back-up to never get seriously lost for more than 10~15minutes. Which is great going, over a hundred mile route. The markers were so consistent that when we couldn't see them at a junction we would sometimes chase round till we did, rather than blindly follow the Suunto.

As we walked into the next hamlet - marked by houses and a poured concrete road starting just as the houses do, a humming-bird hawk-moth flew past at 90mph. So fast we weren't sure what it was but suspected something like that. It stopped at the next patch of flowers and we managed some photos, taking dozens but only a few in focus. Exactly the same as our H-B H-Ms at home, same species and same habits. It was a lively 5 minute chase and we only just managed to follow it from flower to flower before it had had enough and set off at 90mph into the far distance. Very pleasing.

hawk-moth AND African mask bug in same photo!

I just googled "African Mask bug" and immediately got images of that exact insect. It is a Firebug, Pyrrhocoris apterus. Quite common all through Europe etc.

grayling

green tiger beetle

nice wall (m)

Muxia!

black redstart

Mary saw 4 signs saying Alberge Muxia with variations and asked which way we should go. I said we should follow the Suunto. She said they said Alberge Muxia. I said it was Alberge Bela Muxia and we should follow the Suunto as it would take us right to the door. I remembered it was on the foot of the hill at the far end of town. We followed the Suunto and it took us right there. The same guy as 3 years ago welcomed us and showed us round the brutalist architecture with a gentle friendly manner. I had remembered it as an excellent mix of minimal and clean and modern with some quirky bits like a long ankle deep recessed pool of water for weary hikers to soak their tired feet. That was right next to our room. It was a bit green and slimy on the bottom and looked like it had never been used. There was also a cultural room with a few couches and posters. More pragmatically there was a canteen with coffee machine that also vended cans of Estrella Galicia beer and only just a little north of supermarket prices. And a self serve laundry. Mary put a large load of our clothes in while I went to the supermarket. As well as wine, a couple of loafs of bread and salad, cereal and fruit, I managed to find tiritas - plasters - as Mary had the beginnings of a blister which we didn't want deteriorating. I had taken compeed blister plasters but they were too large for her smallest toe.

I think that was the evening we were so well fed on yet more bread, cheese and meat slices and slugging from a bottle of wine (no glasses) that we decided not to go out for a meal. We went to the canteen and had a bowl of muesli with fruit chopped into it. Leaving enough for the same next day for breakfast. I'm proud to say we didn't finish the bottle of wine but left it for others in the canteen. We knew we had 2 fairly long days of walking to get to the end, and the forecast was not brilliant. I remembered the scenery was spectacular and really hoped the low cloud was short lived so that we'd be able to properly enjoy the amazing views.

Day 8: Muxia to Lires
Sure enough the day dawned grey. The route does a quick tour to the top of the hill (scrambling using hands) then over the back to the Big Stone and church then back through town. We skipped the church but took a detour going through town to pop into the pharmacia and get proper blister plasters (not compeed but a rival) in case Mary's blister deteriorated. We did a roadside refit and I could tell the new plaster didn't feel as good as we hoped it would. However it seemed to stay on and things got no worse and we seemed to have it under control.

I had remembered this first mile out of Muxia as problematic. I couldn't recall exactly the nav problem but knew the route wasn't a straight line into the hills or wasn't well marked or something. So I paid close attention to the Suunto and we watched like hawks for the green arrows. There is some tarmac plodding initially and we caught up with 2 other fellow travellers. One had 2 metal tipped pilgrim walking poles and was making an intolerable tip-tapping as she clacked the poles on the metalled road. Holy shit that would drive you crazy after about 5 minutes never mind 5 hrs. Mary shifted up a gear and we overtook with a muttered ola! Both Suunto and green arrows pointed down a steep descent off the road on the right hand side heading down to the beach. We carefully scrambled down and across the beach picking up the trail that the suunto had momentarily dropped. Green dots reappeared. We were on track. The pole tapping couple did not take this path and last we saw they were sticking to the tarmac road, suggesting they were not doing the Lighthouse Way.

Last trip Nick and I did a mighty 29 mile last day, from Muxia to the lighthouse hotel at Finisterre. I can remember setting off, intimidated by the 6 large ascents we faced, counting them off as we completed them. This year we were only travelling to Lires, just over halfway. I knew there were a couple of hills early on but sort of relished them, knowing the pace would be more relaxed and that the views made it worth the effort. Also although climbs are generally harder work, there was less chance of a trip or fall being as serious, as the momentum is offset by the gradient. Going down is a far riskier business as you could slip over a steep drop-off or worst case scenario, as played out last trip when I slipped downhill carrying a camera in one hand and a sandwich in the other - I dipped the end of my bread in the dirt and had to throw the last inch of my lunch to the birds! That hurt more than the skin I lost off my elbow. So in general we feared the slithery, ballbearing, dusty downhills more than the heavy breathing uphills.

Again the weather improved and as we climbed the first ascent the cloud moved off the top of the hill and the sun threatened to come out. Last trip Nick and I got to a spot near a tarmac road where there seemed to be 2 options. The marked way went downhill and lost a lot of height to what appeared to be a trail back up a long ascent to the tarmac road half a mile further on. What seemed like a big detour to avoid half a mile of tarmac was ruled out and we followed the road. This trip we took that marked way and all the way down a long slithery muddy descent I regretted that decision. There were no waymarkers for such a long time I really did wonder if we had missed a junction. Sure enough it bottomed out on a 4x4 track which also seemed absent of markers for the longest time though eventually we saw one and breathed a sigh of relief. There was a long slow gradient back up to the tarmac road. Pointless was the word that came to mind. So, Nick and Peter, 3 years ago: good choice!

lots of this green coloured flint like rock

and giant slugs

bunny!

I think the daftness of the last section was really just to avoid a section of main road. When I say main road we are talking no cars for the 30mins we were near it. There was another departure further on but it just ran parallel to the tarmac for quarter of a mile then rejoined. Then the Suunto said take the next junction right. We hunted for the green arrow to confirm - nothing. Trees rocks no green arrow. Mary turned on the eTrex. Had us walk up and down the road but still not sure. I got to shouting point quite quickly in the now hot sunshine. We took the right turn, partly pressured by the distant approach of 3 fellow travellers, a team of female runners, who were walk/running the Way. I wondered if they would see us and follow or keep to the non arrowed road.

There were no arrows for an alarmingly long distance but the Suunto was saying we were doing the right route. Even if we had gone wrong (if I had not noticed a slight error when putting in the wrong line) we would join up with the correct true line in due course. However having done 70 miles plus, alongside reassuring green arrows you get itchy when they are taken away. Behind us, the girls seemed to be coming this way. And after going to the coast and passing a nice hidden camping spot we started to pick up green arrows again and a fellow traveller up ahead. He was carrying full kit in a heavy back pack and we overtook him saying ola, before a long steep ascent back inland and up a long hill.

Just as we exited the shelter of trees to climb onto an exposed hillside, a rain storm blew in so we returned to the trees and ate our lunch while it passed. The three girls passed too as did the solo heavy backpacker. Then we topped out a few hundred feet higher and climbed down the next incline.

smart new wall

These goats were in an unfenced field. To limit their ability to run off, the older ones were tethered with thick soft rope between right foreleg and right hindleg. They could still run and walk about, but the hobbling must limit their travels.

small heath

dartford warbler apparently

drookit caterpillar

mile long surf school beach

nearly there

There are fewer pics from this section as it was a bit overcast at times and we were tired and finding it harder to appreciate the places we found ourselves. The last few miles (15 in all) went on and on and I couldn't remember anything that let us know when we were approaching the finish line. After an age we found the outskirts of civilisation, a few houses, which fast became Lires, a small hamlet perched on a few steep roads. We studied signage taking note of what was where but as usual the Suunto guided us perfectly to the front door of Casa Luz, Lires.

We must have appeared properly weary on arrival as our welcoming host, before we had even done the passport thing asked if we needed anything, a cup of tea, a coffee, a glass of water, a beer. Mary (untypically forthright) pounced on the offer of beer and said that would be great. Out came 2 COLD beers (Estrella Galicia of course) and we were offered a seat right there and you do not get a better welcome than that. I must get on tripadviser and give this lady all the gold stars or whatever they award for excellence. (Next morning when we reminded her about settling up for the beers she said no, they were on the house!) The room was - yet again - large and comfortable. Not my choice of wall art but for cold beers on arrival you can hang whatever you like on the walls. Really over the top tiles in the spacious bathroom - again; as long as the shower is decent (it was) I have no problem with (OTT) tiles.

The hostess was very warm and accommodating. We asked about local eateries and she told us what was available without recommending one over the rest. As Mary later pointed out, in such a small place any strong opinions were likely to get back to those at the sharp end of them. We had initially considered the restaurant directly opposite Casa Luz, mainly because it was 12 steps away. But it didn't open till 8pm and seemed more upmarket than we required. Up the hill there were 2 places. One a back-packers place doing rooms and cafe food, the other a smaller cafe. We opted for that and it was extremely friendly with 2 tables (out of about 6 in all) of blokes playing cards using for betting chips what looked like teeth! Despite what could be perceived as a blokish ambience, it was fun and friendly. No problem to walk over to the bar area and ask for dos copas de vino tinto to follow the cervezas.

It was no doubt far more relaxed than the upmarket restaurant near our guest house. We reverted to chip based meals, probably pork or croquettes or pork based croquettes. (Mary has just reminded me it was Albondigas! And that earlier that same day I'd said I don't care if I never see another chip in my lifetime. And then totally LOVED the meatballs and chips.) It was great quality, filling stodge and afterwards I was surprised when Mary let the waiter/owner talk us into a postre. I was glad she did as it was outstanding artistry of chocolate sponge bomb with wet middle, squirts of squirty cream and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Up till now we had been avoiding cheap sugary trash like this for reasons of decency. All that booze (every night beer AND wine) was making us visually balloon in hotel mirrors, despite the half marathon walked every day. Anyway, we were stoking up for a final push.

Could we really be approaching the last day? We had very much enjoyed getting into the rhythm of wake up, breakfast, pack, walk, lunch, walk, shower, meal, sleep, repeat. If something wasn't great then tomorrow would put it behind us. If something was brilliant then photograph it and talk about it along the Way. Or make a song and sing it. It was just fantastic, a perfect mix of work(!) and reward, and no wonder it whizzed by so enjoyably. The exercise nearly offset the overindulgence, though I think we ate and drank slightly more than we walked off.

postre

tiny fish jumping clear of the water

Day 9 (last day on the Way) Lires to Finisterre
On the way out of Lires I remembered its role in the Way. There is large-ish river at the end of the long beach and you need to go upstream to find a bridge to cross it. At the bridge, or nearby, is Lires. It was overcast again but I had high hopes for sun later on. The river was full of wildlife - lots of birds; herons, cormorants (in Spanish Sea-Crows) and egrets stood about on the banks. Not surprising. We saw hundreds of minnow sized sprats jumping out the water in waves as no doubt underwater predators gave chase.

soon we were up on the coastal trails again

another endless beach

do not take your cartoon cat on the beach

Largely we stuck to the dunes to get along the beach. The Suunto agreed. There was a fascinating collection of tiny plants that formed a spongy layer of support that was firmer than walking on sinky sand that got in your shoes. I wore gaiters most days to keep things like small stones from getting into my shoes. They were pretty good but often we'd stop and empty shoes of sand and unwrinkle socks. Mary's blister did not cause any further trouble and the Spanish blister plaster stayed on for several days proving its worth. (6 euros well spent!) The On Foot people recommended hiking boots and walking poles but I think if you have strong feet, ankles and legs from running then ankle supporting boots seem old fashioned, heavy and hot compared to lightweight cushioned trail running shoes. Mary and I had just one pair each for walking all day and another as back up to wear in the evening to let the first pair breath. Had we more room, had we taken our Osprey Farpoint 40 carry-on specific back packs as planned, not the Long Cram North Face shared Hold-all, we might have taken flip flops or a third pair of pumps for relaxing and dancing. I suppose it was a good exercise in travelling fairly light. I was pleased I returned home having used all of the clothes I'd taken. Usually there are a pair of just-in-case long restaurant trousers that get back home unworn and I think don't take them next time. I took 3 pairs of shorts, worn in rotation and washed en route. One pair, Montain Granites, were bought specially for the trip when I saw Mary had bought a pair and they seemed excellent. (They are.) On Foot recommended zip off trousers, to protect lower legs from jaggies, but after years of pushing through brambles in shorts chasing butterflies, the amount of undergrowth trying to slash legs on this route was quite minimal by comparison.

fellow traveller

turnstone?

stonechat showing off

nearly lunchtime, where looks good to sit down?

here'll do!

We got a large sandwich from the back-packers place up the road from where we were staying. They were busy with people settling up and setting off, so asked could we wait 15 minutes before they cooked the omlette sandwiches. Of course we could. There was a very upbeat atmosphere around the place and the woman behind the counter went out to take photos of the 3 hikers who were messing up their selfies in the street. The three walk/run girls set off 15 mins ahead of us and we wondered if we would catch them or not before the end. They had been ahead of us at a junction the previous day and unsure which way to go. I think our approach had encouraged them to set off and they headed off round the coast. When we arrived at the junction we understood their quandary. No green dots or arrows. I noticed the Suunto was saying we were slightly off piste but if we headed inland (uninstinctive) we'd pick up with a junction further up the tarmac road. I said to Mary I was just checking it out while she warmed up the eTrex. I ran 200 yards up the road and found a green arrow, and another. The girls were too far gone to call back. We wondered about them several times and whether they managed to get back on route or had to retrace steps. I don't think we ever saw them again that day, or this day, other than outside the cafe first thing. The omlette sandwich was worth waiting for.

last trip I ran out of water and got a refill from a local resident
(who wouldn't take payment for it) at Denle which saved the day

Most days we carried a mini travel towel and kit for swimming. Given the long days walking and the prospect of adding at least 30~45 mins of faff getting changed, getting wet, getting dry and dressing, putting damp sandy feet back into socks and shoes... well it just didn't happen. Here is the place I most regretted that. This turquoise pool of shallow sunwarmed water would have been perfect. A perfect beach and ideal weather. I can see why we didn't go in but it is one of the few regrets of this holiday that we didn't just say time out, lets do it.

there!

Actually I remember now why no swimming. It was a long way to there and even after I promised Mary there was no more cliff edge wanderings, there was. This bit. Although no sheer drops right beside the path, there was enough visual distraction next door and an airy distance to the sea, to add a little tension to the walking. I remember last time feeling this section went on just a little more than it seemed to be welcome, alongside a partly buried waterline that added to the trip hazards. It was good however to see the distant aerial appear a couple of headlands away, knowing that was the last big one of the several ascents. Actually there is quite a bit of up hill after the aerial, and still a couple of hours of walking. But I felt "it" was in the bag.

Good to get the last big climb (and contouring singletrack) behind us. The scenery quality bumps up a notch past the aerial. On the South side you get superb views of the last peninsula stretching out ahead. There is no sign of the final lighthouse, our hotel for the night, but we know it is on the far side of the spit of land. Mary was tired but she also didn't mind me getting a bit involved with the butterflies. I had warned her there were swallowtails here last time and Nick had ended up waiting in the shade of a tree while I chased them around. No such species this time but lots of speckleds, long-tailed blues and whites flitting about. I think I might have pushed M's patience a little far and she walked ahead and switched on the eTrex.

s c e n e r y !

running out of steam crossing the soft sand of the beach

took a photo of this last time as well!

the Virg.

We stopped here last time too. It is the grottiest wee shop that only gets passing trade from pilgrims and maybe local drunks. That mural is of the lighthouse hotel we are bound for, although Kelly MacDonald has let herself go. There is a dirty row of bottles of booze but also a fridge of very cold drinks. The old guy in there watches his tv and doesn't speak English, but understands charades of "I'd like to buy many cold drinks from your fridge" and "keep the change". Nick could even remember the name of the obscure orange drink we bought here last time. I bought 3 bottles for Mary and I to lift our spirits. 1/ water. Sin gas, nothing as fancy as con gas. 2/ that funny can of orange flavoured drink. Also flat. (Meant to be flat, not just old stock!) Tasted of haliborange tablets and orange flavour but not actually orange the fruit. Yes we drank it enthusiastically! 3/ Estrella Galicia. After the first 2 our thirst was quenched so I suggested we keep the beer to open on the last hill, by which time the hotel is in sight.

looking back to where we'd come from

The route contours round the peninsula for a bit then takes a near vertical stab up towards the top. It seems kind of cruel given there are many paths over this piece of land and this appears to be the least humane. Nevertheless, do your worst Lighthouse Way, we will still get there! Mary powered up the hill at an impressive pace. I was dancing about possibly a little overexcited about the imminent appearance of one of the most spectacular hotel venues in the world. We got half way up turned a corner and there it was. A trumpet fanfare would sound on the movie version, slightly more impressive than just me yabbering away and Mary stoically continuing, the end now in sight.

ta-da!

Mary wasn't past the point of enjoyment - I could tell because she stopped to photograph the underwings of this fine wall butterfly. As did I. When we reached the high point we decided not to drink the beer. It is a fairly posh hotel and bad enough to smell of the outdoors (and then some!) without smelling like we were this dishevelled from an afternoon party on the way here.

we got a last goodbye from our stonechat pals

Just as we arrived I saw a bloke shout out hellooooo and hug Mary and for a second I thought who the fuck could we possibly know at this last outpost at the end of the world? Of course it was Thomas and Regina. The Swiss couple. How nice to bump into them on our last day at the very last moment. It would have been so easy to miss them by just minutes. We chatted for a bit. I think they were quite jealous we were booked into the hotel here. They were staying in the small town of Fisterra, a mile up the road. They were going on to explore more of the coast further South. We were going back to Santiago, to catch a flight home, after a night in the lighthouse hotel, O Semáforo, an amazing place and very suitable final stop on this long and magnificent trail.

We got ourselves to reception where a very capable, fluent and charming young Spanish woman booked us in and took us up to our room where our bag was already waiting. Everything in the minibar was free, the combination on the four numeral hotel electronic door was the same as last visit (yes we were in the same room!) and we had done it. We had got to the end point! Not so much emotional as just dusty and sweaty. I got showered and we drank everything in the minibar (except the breakfast fruit juices for tomorrow). And we had the beer we'd brought. Very delish! I tried to sweep up the sand we'd spilled out our shoes onto the polished wooden floor. Then went out to enjoy the surroundings. I'd taken photos of the sparrows last time I was there. They were there again this time and hopped around in small cheerful groups. And were obviously acclimatised to human company as they'd hop really close to the other pilgrims.

I also went and took a pic of the boot. The boot is a bronze cast placed at pretty much the last step of the Way. Nice to mark the spot although it has sadly encouraged other pilgrims to drop off their shoes and boots and flip flops in a neuk beside the bronze. It looks like the overspill from a charity bin in a supermarket car park and NOT cool. Not cool at all. Who thought littering the coast with their old stinky shoes was cool. Honestly, pick it up and bin it. BTW I have been teasing Mary that she DNFed the route as she didn't come out and touch the boot. Meant to, but hey we got busy and she never went South of the hotel. Oh well, next time! 😁

also, look this may be the favourite pipe of your dead mother
but now you are just littering an area of outstanding beauty

ahhh that's better, nothing till you reach America

painted lady blew in to say hello/bye
it was very blustery, so I was surprised

our room top left

This was the first and last time on the holiday I was sorry not to have brought a little bag of bird seed I tend to carry when going anywhere a bird might enjoy a handout. I reckon they were so friendly they might well have taken it from my hand, although they didn't look underfed or hungry.

this panorama shot produced a chopped lens flare
that accidentally mimics the lens in a lighthouse light

We were asked when we wanted to eat. Dinner started at 8pm, so we said 8pm. I then realised 8 was possibly very near sunset and we were likely to miss it if seated in the dining area. They were able to accommodate this by placing us in the breakfast area which they used for dining room overspill if busy. I was glad about this as it let us enjoy and photograph the show while ordering food. The name of our table was appropriately Sunset.

tautology

The food was good but smallish portions and expensive. (Classy food!) (The wine list was pages deep and started about 20 or 25 euros although they had house red at 2 or 3 euros a glass.) During our holiday I had become more a fan of the low brow large portion (with chips) which was better for fuelling a longer day out. But the drinks were good and cheap, remarkably inexpensive considering the surroundings and the local alternatives (none!) so it didn't taint my view of the place. I think these shots of cafe liqueur (in frosted glasses) were 2 euros. You'd be hard pushed to match that in Leith never mind a swanky hotel in town.

While it was funny to be back in the same room as 3 years ago, (although this time I wasn't in a camp bed in the corner) it might have been interesting to see another one of the themed rooms in the place. I think there are only a handful of rooms and they go by name rather than number. We were in Stellae.

Day 10, (Finisterre), Santiago

I believe we managed not to push the boat out too far so we weren't hungover for the next morning and the 10am taxi. Which meant up fairly early, breakfast at 9 (a large tray of goodies, jam, meat and cheese) and Long Cram for 9.45, then messing about trying to get airport check in or boarding passes printed at reception. The hotel staff were really helpful about this. We set off back to Santiago feeling sad to be leaving but happy that it could hardly have gone any better.

Big thanks to On Foot for swinging it so we could leave our North Face bag in the reception of the hotel they use in Santiago, which is central. (Nick and I stayed there last time.) This time we were catching a same day flight at 10.45pm so had a few hours to spend wandering round Santiago (I think we did 9 miles!) before reclaiming our bag and getting an extremely busy bus to the airport where of course there was delays. We got back to Edinburgh in the middle of the night and home after 3.30am. I was up till 5am just doing stuff including looking glumly at a roof leak that had occurred in our absence.

Meanwhile back in Santiago we did a green space tour of parks and outdoor places dotted around the outskirts of the city including Bosque de Galicia - some futuristic architecture surrounded by a planted wood that attracts loads of butterflies and birds. While it was all good fun it wasn't as delightful as the wild places we had enjoyed along the coast of Galicia for 9 very special days. Fantastic trip, great tour company, lovely hotels and a brilliant part of the world to walk through. It was hard going enough to feel like an achievement, but never gruelling. I took 3600 photos which I whittled down to about 450 over these last 2 blogs. Mary tells her story; similar and yet refreshingly different! on her blog starting here. Find successive days on the bottom of the right hand column of her webpage.