best part of the day: sausage holiday in spain

A while back Steve Crane had a walking holiday on the Camino de Santiago. Although it ended badly, in hospital with food poisoning, Nick was inspired by the idea of a point-to-point trek in sunny weather, and found a company that did such trips. When I saw the itinerary (a ten day walking holiday compressed into 5 days running; averaging 24 miles daily along coastal paths) I thought I WANT THAT! Nick was happy to have company along, and Mary signed the permission slips. Previously Mary and I have found we have different ideas about the best running mileage for a holiday, so she was happy to wave me off to do distances beyond that she would consider ideal.

It's around 5 years since I've been abroad. I love adventures like this, but HATE the travelling and airports and hoops you have to jump through to get there. A necessary evil, but the amount of rubbing up against the great unwashed, the noise and bustle and time wasting standing in queues for security, getting on planes, getting off planes, eating overpriced shit, running through airports to meet connections (3 flights out, 3 flights back, Heathrow, Madrid, Santiago) leaves me totally frazzled. It could be another 5 years before I put myself through this wringer again.

architecturally satisfying if mentally taxing Madrid airport

Nick was waiting outside my front door at 5.35am. After 3 flights and an hour long taxi from Santiago to Malpica it was something like 10pm when we checked into our hotel although we lost an hour to time differences. Last orders at the local restaurant, then I went for a moonlit walk to see if I could find a public toilet. There was one just 200 yards from the hotel, only just sufficient distance and earshot from our room. There was no way I was inflicting that on Nick in our en suite.

Nick's plan was to eat all of the above.

first night dinner

our entire route - about 120miles
map nicked from On Foot Holidays

Day 1, Malpica to Corme, 25miles

I only mention this because next morning I got into a terrible state. First I couldn't find my passport which I'd put in a safe place in my suitcase. Next I couldn't find my wallet. As the panic rose I 'realised' it must have fallen out my pocket in the toilet I'd visited the night before and dashed there at 80mph to find it had already been hosed out, and any floor-bound wallet removed. My heart was racing as I ran back to our room at 100mph where Nick informed me it was in my back pack where I'd looked at least twice already. I apologised to Nick for turning into a complete twat on day one. Obviously the stress and weariness of all that travelling had reduced me to an imbecile. Not a good start. We got breakfast at a cafe, bought water to fill backpack reservoirs and set off along the beach front walkways heading West and South. Almost immediately it was marvelous.

Nick had spotted this holiday googling stuff online. He thought the coastline photos looked similar to the East coast between Berwick upon Tweed and East Lothian. A mix of beaches, rocky coastlines and cliffs, with a bit of up-and-down and a variety of surfaces and scenery. And so it proved to be. The purple heathers, gorse and bracken along sandy trails being very reminiscent of our local scenery. Except every day the sun blasted down. Sometimes we had a couple of cooler hours to kick off, but every afternoon by 2pm it was scorchio and stayed that way, often till 7pm.

A couple of things really appealed: we would double up the daily distances of the original walking holiday but days 2 and 4 were lower mileage recovery days. And (and this was the deal maker) the travel company, On Foot Holidays, they would carry our luggage from hotel to hotel while we ran carrying just food and drink in backpacks for the day.

And if we ran into problems, say twisting an ankle or deciding we could run no further, they would send out a taxi to rescue us. This was co-ordinated by Aznar who also texted restaurant recommendations and points of interest. It felt like he was a constant companion and yet sadly we never got to meet him and buy him a beer. They had also provided an information pack with maps and ratings of beach swim safety etc. We felt very well looked after. Although we rarely referred to the maps as they had given us a gpx file showing the route along the coastal paths. It didn't upload into either of our watches, so we pasted it into google earth pro and then copied/mapped it into our respective Garmin and Suunto software. We then ran an aggregate between the 2 watches and the real life green arrows and dots that were painted onto hundreds of rocks and posts wherever there was a junction or diversion. Over 120 miles we rarely went more than a hundred yards off trail.

Butterflies! I was treating this as primarily a running holiday. I had done little in the way of research about what butterflies (or wildlife) I'd be seeing and suspected the answer would be 'very few' as the wind off the Atlantic would surely keep numbers low. Why would any self respecting butterfly hang around the breezy coast when they could flutter down to the warmer Med? Happily it quickly became apparent that there were plenty of sheltered corners and trails overhung with wind breaking shrubs where many butterflies fluttered. Some (as the more orangey Speckled Wood variant above) were cousins of our own species. Some were types you get in England but not Scotland. And then there were the others. Exotic, near tropical varieties you have to go abroad to stand any chance of seeing. Even on day one I was seeing quite a few that made me OMG out loud.

There were many whites, some familiar others not so.

Small Heath

Nice to see some familiar faces, although some looked nearly but not quite the same and left you wondering if it were an old friend or a new one. I am usually fairly confident to identify the Scottish species as there is a limited number, a little over 30 of the usual suspects. But here there was a random mix of familiar and lookey-likey and it was often only back at a hotel I'd notice that what I thought was a Meadow Brown or variation on that, was more like a gatekeeper. Although I'd never seen one before and they seemed much larger than a Red Admiral, never mind the chart at home suggesting they were smaller than a Meadow Brown. I worried less about this at the time than just taking decent pics of them while not boring Nick too much with my obsession. He was extremely patient and shared a small part of my enthusiasm for all things wildlife, but I didn't want to test the upper limit of his interest in wildlife vs running. Pretty soon we ignored everything except the large yellow jobs. Which turned out to be a type of giant Brimstone, Clouded Yellows and Swallowtails. We do get an occasional Clouded Yellow in Scotland but I haven't seen one here and it would seem to be a once-in-5~10-years-thing. I saw 3 on Day 1. Tricky to photograph though!

Long-tailed Blue

Iain had flagged up these long-tailed blues just before I left for Spain. (A number have migrated into the South of England this Summer.) And so I recognised them on Day 1. They had been around for a while and were often a bit tatty so I didn't notice until a bit later there were also Short-tailed Blues which have a completely different underwing but will share similar environments. And sometime later still it was pointed out I have a photo of a Lang's Short-tailed Blue. So much to learn.

Short-tailed Blue

This was the only river crossing we had to remove shoes for.

Meanwhile there was much running to be done. The coastal paths snaked in and out of estuaries and round peninsulas, making it pretty arduous to cover any kind of distance as the crow flies. We would run all day then look across the bay to see the town we set out from. A lighthouse passed would be visible 2 days later. Did I mention this route was called the Lighthouse Way - the Camino dos Faros - and has a handful of them dotted along the way. Originally this coast was called the Costa da Morte, the coast of death, due to the amount of shipwrecks on the rocky coastline. So you can see why a rebranding was in order.

Right from Day 1 we were greatly impressed by the beauty of the postcard perfect scenery. I had hoped to restrain myself, only taking a minimum of photos, but the landscape was so pretty, especially in the sunshine, that it was properly challenging not to take a photo every hundred yards. I ran with my camera in my hand. Another challenge as we were constantly dripping in sweat all day.

Sometimes the route was walking only. I wouldn't recommend

trying it on a bike. (Note way-marker green dot by Nick's hand.)

Faro de Punta Nariga

splendid huge lighthouse

I took off my shoes and socks to empty them of dirt and grit, only then realising how much dirt was being thrown up from the dusty trails. Over 5 days we had a combined distance of about 150 yards of mud or sploshy ground. The rest of the journey was all dust/dirt trails, a small handful of tarmac and hardpack miles, and lots of beach and sandy trails. And a bit of rockhopping and scrambling.

a swallowtail on Day 1 but it kept its distance

the beaches at and beyond Niñons were outstanding

Around about here I stopped taking photos. There was another climb ahead and we had been rattling along at a good pace. I could feel I was getting hot but ignored it until I started to feel like vomiting and then all of a sudden I felt lightheaded. I sat down and told Nick I needed a moment. On reflection I put this down to 2 things. I had only had a croissant and coffee for breakfast. Very continental but not very sustaining. Since then I had had a couple of sports bars but we had done about 16 miles and clearly I was out of fuel. Also I hadn't bothered to put on sunscreen. First and last day I fell for that one. I don't much care for sunscreen as it sweats off my face and stings my eyes and I thought I'd manage fine without. BIG mistake. My face was bright red and I was sitting in the dirt feeling faint. Nick gave me a Nakd Bar and some Shot Bloks. Although I kept on feeling pukey I almost immediately began to feel better. I had the energy to stand up and continue the climb at walking pace. There were a couple more hills which we walked slowly up and then the miracle of the holy tap at O Roncudo. We turned a corner and there was a tap. Thank the baby Jesus! I had run out of water just the moment before and we still had 7 or 8 miles to go. We waited till some grumpy walkers had filled their bottles then luxuriated in soaking heads and filling reservoirs. Man it was tasty water. I had been using lemon flavoured electrolyte tabs but for the rest of the trip just had plain water as nothing tasted as good.

Clouded Yellow!

Just as I was beginning to feel on the way to recovery a Clouded Yellow flew by. I got my camera out (it had been in my back pack since I nearly passed out) dropped my back pack and chased it back down the trail while Nick waited, probably questioning my priorities. It was worth it. It landed on some clover and I got the only close ups of the whole trip, and it sent my spirits soaring. There was a bit more contouring on single track above rocky shores, then we saw the next lighthouse. We knew there was only a couple of miles into town beyond it so we were both pleased to see it at long last.

loved the shapes and colours of these buildings

A couple of miles later and we were heading into civilisation. I was feeling much less spaced out and we got a very pleasant welcome from the receptionist at our hotel. Our luggage had arrived and our room seemed to be the best in the place with a balcony round 2 sides of the windows, taking sun loungers and seating, with a tremendous view over the harbour. It had a separate lounge and bedroom and a great shower which I stood under, soaking in the cool water, while Nick went walkabout to the local supermercado to buy water, beers, lemonade, ICE and some snacks. This became the routine we would adopt daily and I nearly felt guilty about it! Nearly, but not enough to take turns. He has an age advantage of over a decade! In return I took all our laundry and manky sports kit to the basement where there was a FREE laundry room. Free washer, free drier and the receptionist gave me a cup of washing liquid. Set dial to Delicado. How good is that? In 90 minutes we had fresh dry kit for the next day. We got info on local restaurants and (after a beer shandy or 2) headed out.

25 miles of filthy

should have been sponsored by Estrella Galicia

pretty much every day finished with a 6 pack

Beers seemed a little full on for rehydration so we added lemonade. We were later to learn the delightful Galician term for a lemonade shandy, a sort of lager and lime, to be Clara de Limon. Who sounds like the lead in a Spanish film. She was certainly one of the stars of our film.

I don't have the time to photoshop our faces onto twin cyclists here,

please imagine it for yourself.

Sausages cooked in red wine: genius.

Although you had to work quite hard to find vegetables on the menu.

(Other than sharp edged potatoes, deep fried.)

early morning light

Nick applying sunscreen.

The place was so FAB it seemed a shame to leave it after just one night. Although it was only the second venue we stayed at, I felt it might easily be the best of the week, and apart from the last hotel, it pretty much was. We referred to it as the Playboy Mansions and waved to it forlornly from across the bay once we ran round the other side of the inlet. I see they have used a photo of "our" room in the online advert for the trip as linked above.

Day 1: 25miles

After eating we returned to the bar immediately below our room where we met Inga. We had passed her a long way back between lighthouses shouting Holá! I think we had showered, drunk beers, gone out to a restuarant, eaten, and returned to the bar before she appeared, having walked through the only real shower of rain in daylight hours all week. She was chipper though, and we chatted about lots of stuff. She hailed from Germany but worked in Switzerland. And did walking holidays. Next morning we weren't superfast getting our stuff together and Inga was striding out ahead of us. We shouted Holá again and ran past. The 2 dudes just behind saw the camera and made to escape the photo (or pose for it?) but weren't quick enough.

Inga!

Day 2, Corme to Laxe (pronounced Lashed?!) 17 miles

It was a lovely cool morning. By cool I mean quite humid and we were both soaked through by the time Nick had set a brisk pace going up the first few inclines. We saw some sheep and were surprised to see the shepherd was Digby Maass!

We then travelled through the holy land or maybe the Sahara. We took the track going up the hill but you might want to follow the lower one as they both end up back down near the shore and there's a bird watching hide though they only had a singular cormorant out that morning. Then there was a right turn over a causeway which took us into town for a strong coffee and 2 small pieces of sponge cake each from a tattooed waitress in cut-off jeans if memory serves.

There were lots of white butterflies most of which weren't landing and looked too ordinary to chase. However I chased this one as it was more delicate and smaller with thin elegant wings and a floppy flight path. We don't get Wood Whites in Scotland but they reside up the top of the centre panel of my UK Butterflies chart and maybe I have become familiar with them through this exposure. Nick stood one side of a stand of trees and shrubs shouting its coming back over and I ran round to get this poor photo but enough to identify as that or similar. Like a handful of foreign coins you can never be certain of the exact nature and value of anything abroad, merely hazard a guess until you get back home. (Or make Nick google it on his smartphone or iPad.) It was with a heavy heart I realised trips like this (getting through airports, travelling accurately in foreign cities, checking timetables, seeing restaurant reviews, googling butterfly species etc.) make it nearly obligatory to have a smartphone. Bah!

Asiatic Hornet. Lots of these about.

Recent invasive species, not good news for many pollinators. Info here.

what the heck is that?

and there's another

As day 2 took us inland a bit and through some rural villages we saw these small ancient huts on stilts. I liked Nick's first guess that they might house the remains of dead ancestors. However he also noticed the rat proof mushroom stilts and guessed something to do with food stuff, and given the vents, something that is wind dried or kept aired so it doesn't go mouldy. Other guesses included kennels or animal containers, firewood driers, cheese driers, meat curers, or some kind of grain store.

We ran past these flowers which were busy with more blues. I took a couple of photos but would have paid more attention if I had realised they were Lang's Short-tailed Blues and not just more of the Long-tailed Blues seen earlier. From a distance while running past they look much the same. Also got a Gatekeeper with wings open which was when I realised they weren't just large shy Meadow Brown cousins.

seems kinda familiar

The beaches and bays along this next stretch, before we got into Laxe (pronounced Lashé) were just outstanding. The running was good and since I had got all (most) of my schoolboy errors out my system on Day 1, everything was much better!

Nick spies a bar!

Time to get Lashey.

maybe I can get retrospective sponsorship from Estrella Galicia?

It was in this bar that we learned the phrase Clara de Limon and also that the grain stores were grain stores. The danger in finishing a shorter recovery day earlier is the amount of time you have all afternoon to sample the local delights. There was also a lugubrious man with a paradoxical smile speaking only in Spanish who might have been telling us he once went fishing in Scotland and it was cold. Or that this bar was overpriced and we should drink elsewhere. It may have been here we made the mistake of going into Tourist Informacion and getting a woman who had either just woken up or was on her first day working there. While her English was far far better than our Spanish (small and very broken) she steered us towards restaurants that did the Galician delicacy of Salty Pies. After further chit chat she asked if we could answer a quick survey and was very delighted to find not only had we heard of the Lighthouse Way but were running it. Enjoy your Salty Pies.

There was also the pharmacy. We went in to get more dextrose tablets, good instant energy on the trail. I think it would have been easier to ask for a wee bag of heroin and some MDMA. Clearly they had never heard of dextrose but were keen to help and disappeared off to order them online or discuss them behind the scenes. After a long wait we snuck out the shop but an assistant ran up the street after us. I think they were going to order them in for us not realising we would be off the next day. It was all a bit lost in translation. We didn't ever set foot in another pharmacy.

I remember thinking it's Thursday so we can do intervals up to the church

and yet somehow.....

Lichen Jesus

(this was the lower downstairs church)

Day 2, 17miles

Back at the hotel (nice, and defo one of the better rooms with a great view, but not quite as top notch as the Playboy Mansions) I was so delighted by googling "corkscrew" in Spanish then applying it to the barman with the correct response forthcoming that I over-rewarded myself with the excellent contents of a bottle of £2 Galician wine. It was very delicious. Unfortunately so delicious I had to have a lie down. Then later, went to dinner with something of a dry mouth and fragile head. However next morning we were up full of beans for...

Day 3, Laxe (pronounced Lashie come home) to Camariñas, 27miles

morning over Laxe

hazy

We passed a couple of cemeteries. They seem to go for this style: walled and often with crypts stacked vertically. Probably due to thin soil and hefty bedrock but that's just a guess. There were a couple of climbs in the route profile for day 3 and they gave excellent viewpoints. Due to the difficulties of Day 1 we were not hugely looking forward to them but in fact they were all do-able and nothing compared to what faced our pals Graham and John who were on some hideous hilly race through Switzerland over 360km and going without sleep or a proper sit down meal or showers till they either finished or died. We imagined them climbing out a ditch after 2 hrs sleep, and wondered what the hell they were thinking when they could have been on an eaty, drinky, butterfly fest like our holiday. Still, each to their own?

proper scenery

looking back to where we've been

the route didn't go over the hills in the centre or the next one (hurray!)

but maybe did go over the far right one (boo!)

coffees and water refill

stonechat

quite a bit of rockhopping

saw this guy eventually arrive in Camariñas

a LOT later.

we saw this from a long way off

these dudes had a diamante phone

unfortunately the cafe was closed

Nick standing in for a crucifixion

We ran on for quite a while on undulating trails. We passed a few large yellow jobs (all 3 of the most highly desirable) but none were stopping for a photo. We then went up the hill to visit this church. Not because it was on the way but because it wasn't. Nick then had the dangerous idea to run off the hill on the opposite side to the way we wanted to go. (It was way-marked with green dots but I worried it might be down to the beach and a dead end, and we'd have to climb back up! This on a long day of 27 miles seemed verging on irresponsible, but the route down to the shore curved round and joined the road we wanted, so I didn't get a chance to told-you-so. Hurray!

We got into the hotel in the usual filthy state. I think I probably showered while Nick got beers and stuff in. That might have been the first time we shared a carton of gazpacho soup. It was brilliantly cold and like tomato juice but blended with other stuff and really fabulous. A great choice and full of goodness. It was so hot on our balcony that I had to take my washed shorts from the drying line and wear them on my head as I was in danger of frying. We made a dinner reservation and then went walkabout looking for butterflies out the end of the town we had come in. There were none even though it was still really hot. It was nice to have a slow wander about and look at things.

Nick bought me salad while he had salty pies.

painting under way

these are the green curly arrows that way mark the route

very spikey flowerhead / thistle

looking over to Muxia

puma

It was so hot that night Nick and I both had trouble sleeping. I got up and opened the French doors to the balcony after the noise had died down. And put a cold wet flannel on my head. We realised later we were directly over the kitchens which were probably operational till really late on.

Day 3, 27miles

Day 4, Camariñas to Muxia, 19miles

more glorious morning light across the water

Did we scoff at walkers in compression socks with walking poles?

What do you think? Actually we were more surprised at Spanish folk from down South

who were wearing hats and anoraks and long trousers against the cold.

Nick spotted this visual delight of a tree grown up inside a wheel.

more family burial plots

gato

I had dreamt of a Comma butterfly the night before. Initially I interpreted this as suggesting I'd possibly see a Comma butterfly today. Not so. I now realise that it was my spirit guide letting me know today was to be just splendid for butterflies. First up was this fritillary. Googling on Nick's phone later it looked to be a Heath Fritillary. These are extremely rare (borderline extinct) in the UK and only found right down South. Online butterfly pal John W says it might be a 2nd brood Heath Fritillary sub-species celadussa. Thanks John!

wall

The day was beautiful. And being another recovery day of only 19 miles we thought a swim might happen at one of the tremendous beaches we regularly passed. We considered this one saying if there were showers there, then we would. Many of the beaches have a shower and footwash tap beside them which allows you to get feet back into socks without a bucket of sand (and salt) going in there too. It is very civilised. We had carried small camping towels in our back packs. I also carried trunks, goggles and a swim hat. I know this makes me look like a div but it keeps the water from going in my ears and crackling for 3 days. The Atlantic Ocean was cooler than we imagined, which explained the lack of swimmers. It wasn't really much warmer than Gullane in the height of Summer, and after a quick splash about we were back out. But feeling mightily REFRESHED! It helped loosen off tight legs as well and I dropped the idea I would gub a couple of paracetamol for the remaining miles.

Nick going for full immersion

properly red face

civilised

showers next to many beaches

These 2 were the only other travellers who overtook us and only

because we went swimming. Should've pushed them in the bushes as we romped by.

Speckled Wood

Possibly Pararge aegeria aegeria a more orange subspecies.

maybe southern small white

Another species of which I only saw a singular example. So I was pleased to later identify it (after an online search) as an Iberian Sooty Copper. It was very helpful, slowly turning round on this flower allowing me to take its picture.

meadow brown?

(Quite a bit larger than usual.)

Geranium Bronze

So we ran through this small glade on boardwalks with a river running by. All of a sudden there were loads of butterflies but also dragonflies and these Beautiful Demoiselles. No they are really called Beautiful Demoiselles. Similar to the Banded Demoiselles I have photographed at Bluestone Ford. Nick was impressed to see these and we spent 10 mins leaning over the bridge pointing cameras at the river where they fluttered and flopped about. There were also a few butterflies: blues just out of reach and another Wood White.

Beautiful Demoiselle (female) eating crane fly

Beautiful Demoiselle (male)

Wood White

A short while later we went past a Buddleia. We hadn't seen many and I asked Nick if we could check it out for butterflies. We were still some distance off when we saw there were 3 large swallowtails and a couple of Red Admirals on the flowers. I believe these are Scarce or Spanish Swallowtails. They were quite high above us and so busy nectaring they weren't bothered by our presence. They were possibly the largest butterfly I have seen outside captivity.

Muxia

I really enjoyed Muxia, pronounced Mooshia. The accommodation was a super-modern Albergue with private rooms, Bela Muxia, and had an arthouse feel. Slightly brutalist style of modern concrete tiles and weird things like foot baths for the walkers. Angel (pronounced An-jchzel) was the boss man and a fine and friendly host. Even though the place was fully booked it felt relaxed and breezily empty, hardly anyone in the well-supplied kitchen or laundry areas. Again, I showered while Nick brought home more Gazpacho and beer. We knew the last day was the longest with the most climb so prepared our own sandwiches for it. We also climbed the hill out back which had a church on the far side that was doing a religious festival of some sort and attracting loads of otherwise normal looking folk who turned up by the hundreds. We heard pipe bands and all sorts and thought the Pope must be headlining the rave.

note can of beer

This huge block of stone near the church represents (to me) the simplistic

yet massive influence of the church in this part of the world

Day 4, 19 miles

Day 5, Muxia to Finisterre, 29miles

Another splendid morning. The light at the start of the day was often remarkable. The route took us up and over the hill out back and down to the furthest point of land, as if to show us the church and that big slab of granite again. Past some artisanal drying arrangement for what looked like conger eels. Then out the road and almost immediately up a big hill. It was the first of 6. I had enjoyed a breakfast of granola with banana. We had had to buy breakfast locally and this was as close to normal as we could find. Nick showed his unfamiliarity with fruit by slicing the banana before peeling it!

Muxia from the hill out back

Nick has a Shazam moment.

If Olly S had been here he would have bridged up that crack.

conger eels?

first hill of the day

the view back to Muxia

and up

(all looking very Scottish)

speckled wood

and then down

past the surf school

we saw many dragonflies but few hung around for photos,

this might be a keeled skimmer

many large grasshoppers

when they flew they showed their red or blue wings

only photo (in flight) of the huge brimstone type butterflies we saw

that never seemed to land

geranium bronze

cafe en route where we had coffee and filled up with cold water

painting in cafe

gato

long way with no supplies

This was an excellent spot for butterflies. Unfortunately also very thistly.

I put out a hand to steady myself and retrieved it, stuck with about 40 thorns.

The beach went on forever. First we did a long section in the scrubby dunes behind, then moved onto the beach itself hoping for firm sand down at the waterline. But no, it was all hard going. Up the far end were a few small wading birds just like Aberlady. Beyond another climb near cliffs, and on and on it went.

I was running out of water fast. I knew I should have taken on more at the cafe but hoped I would get away with it. We still had more than a couple of hours to go when I ran out of water and looked to this beach for showers, that I might fill my reservoir. No deal, no showers. As we climbed up to a brief road section we saw a hamlet (Denle?) just back up the road. Water was too important to ignore so I went to the nearest open door and asked, in broken bad Spanish, if there was agua nearby. A very kind lady hauled my bacon out the fire by filling my reservoir and refusing to take any cash. I was very pleased. My legs felt fine for the last push, we were both in good shape and although the sun was blasting down it looked like we would make it. Just a couple of big hills to climb and we'd be there! I drank the 1.75 litres during the final 7 miles.

lots of contouring on tricky steep paths

then up the hill to this aerial

highest point of the day and second last climb

We had said we would drink our last chocolate milk at the 5-miles-to-go point. (They came in 6 packs; we drank 1 for breakfast then carried 2 each on long days) We sat under a tree near here and savoured the moment. It was excellent. Just over the top and 2 things: a swallowtail buttefly sat close by for photos. Not usual at all. And we saw the amazing view down the hill to the last couple of miles of the trip.

out hotel was on the far side of this peninsula

Nick patiently sitting in the shade while I chased large yellow butterflies

He was a complete gent about not hurrying me along. What a guy!

approaching paradise, filthy and covered in salt stains

ocellated or jewelled lizard

everything looked FAB in the amazing light

We passed a small cafe where the owner stopped watching his basketball match on tv to sell us a couple of cans of ice cold drink. They tasted great but hardly touched the sides. We knew there was one last climb and ploughed on with the anticipation of being nearly "home."

looking back to the aerial and swallowtail hills

figs

up up up

an in-flight clouded yellow

our hotel!!!

we were staying at the lighthouse at the end of the world

This was it, we could go no further. We had got to the finish line. Finisterre, literally the end of the earth. Now there should have been a moment of man-hugs and moist eyes and self congratulation but I was distracted by a hummingbird hawkmoth and ran about chasing it as it hovered from plant to plant in the manner that gives it its name. And Nick realised his total miles for the week (incl 10 done the day before we arrived) was 129.7 so we had to run round the car park to round it up to 130 in the traditional manner. So somehow the man-hugs and celebrations were deferred.

bronze monument at end of walky way

and my dirty leg

My shoes were new extra light kevlar uppered Hoka Speedgoat Evos. Wore them every day and they were great. Just one wee skin rub off my knuckle of a middle toe on right foot which Compeed ensured never got worse. Nick wore Inov-8 295s which also did the job very well. Nick fell once tripping on a root on day 3, doing a full face plant but sustaining no injuries. I fell on a descent on day 5, camera in one hand, sandwich in other and removed surface skin from left elbow in order to stop. Worst damage was dirt on the end of my sandwich! I ate down to that point then tossed it, very unhappy! The elbow was fine.

our room at the boutique lighthouse hotel

the breakfast area above the bar

our room

When we checked in to the hotel we were met by a very friendly receptionist who joked our luggage hadn't been seen. It was there and followed us up to our room. I asked Nick if he reckoned anyone this filthy had ever checked in (to this evidently very exclusive hotel) and the receptionist answered that we might be surprised. She was impressed we had run from Muxia. The room (the Stellae room - all were names not numbers!) was amazing. I was keen to hose off the muck and sweat before I sat on something and dirtied it up so jumped in the shower.

Day 5, 29+miles

There were no nearby shops so after showering we had a walk about and bought some Clara de Limons and sat in the sun. In fact we moved out the sun as it was too hot. Later we had a fantastic meal in the restaurant. After a starter (hurray, lovely organic vegetables under a cheese sauce; Nick had clams) we shared a seafood paella. Actually they didn't call it paella on the menu, referring to label it a Galician rice dish. It was excellent although the large crab in the centre seemed more ornamental that nutritious. Nick wrestled with it for a bit but got little in the way of meat out of it. It was an excellent meal to round off the trip. And was followed by quite a bit of drinking, over which I shall draw a veil. But all good fun, popping out now and then to take pics of the sun going down and the lighthouse light and the amazing all round views. It was an outstanding place to finish the trip and I felt there must be some mistake that we were allowed to stay there; this was the stuff of rock star lifestyle. And yet a superb glass of red wine was only 2.5 euros. I had a couple of glasses of (local) sherry later on and they just measure them out by eye. And a very generous eye at that. We had noticed along the way that prices were generally very acceptable. Possibly due to supply and demand. This part of Spain is not as well known or visited as the Med so prices are comparably favourable. Ridiculous to think probably cheaper than Leith!

Nick clams up.

there was also a single bed in the corner!

happy to say neither was too hungover to enjoy this breakfast

Around 10am our taxi (Ishmael this time) arrived and sped us off (50+miles?) to Santiago, the end point of that other famous Spanish pilgrimage. We checked into our final night hotel (having decided to spend a day going round Santiago, seeing the sights). The hotel had an interesting art collection and was very comfortable. However for me the move from countryside to urban was not that welcome and I immediately felt my guard go up as it would in any large city. The pilgrimage and cathedral draws crowds of walkers, worshippers and attendant snake-oil salespeople. We had a fun tour round the cathedral but it was more on a beavis-and-butthead level than with reverence.

You had to queue for maybe 30 mins to get to hug the back of this statue which probably had more germs on it than a bowl of peanuts in a public bar. I have a vague memory of horsing down an excellent bombay mix by the fistful while drunk in a bar and Nick pointing out the fecal likelyhood and me not giving the slightest toss. It was great bombay mix! However I was sober in the church and my embrace of the wood, metal and costume jewelry (which I tried to prize off in my 10 secs of allotted snog-time) was done with typical Scottish reserve. St James the patron saint of everything Spanish was the guy and shared a birthday with our Nick. Which explains a lot. Leos. Strong on leadership and going forward. Nick enjoyed being out front and forging ahead, either on the trail or in the hotel reception. (Ahhh Neekolas Wheel-iamson!) So while I occasionally led the run, Nick would usually gravitate to the lead position and was happier there. And he made a very fine job of it. So much so, I didn't get to display my abysmal grasp of Spanish that often, which was a blessing really. So a huge thanks to Neekolas, for planning all this and letting me come along as side kick. It was the best holiday ever and we had a cracking time with never a running shoe raised in anger! Which is quite impressive given we pretty much spent an entire week in each others company 24/7. It was FAB. I should also thank On Foot Holidays for the maps, the advice, the great hotels and Aznar texting stuff when we needed info and being there as our emergency contact, happily never needed. And also Nick an extra thanks for settling our tab at our rock star hotel when I wasn't there, which was extremely naughty but really generous, you are a star!

After the cathedral we went on a tour of parks and monuments round Santiago which was probably about 6 miles round the greener spaces and a last chance to see some butterflies!

geranium bronze

delighted to see a Holly Blue on some holly

an unexpected treat

holly blue (female)

this was an amazing place

a large green space of planted trees with some outlandish contemporary architecture

common blue

hotel room, Santiago

hipster restaurant

wooden plates with 'newsprint' presentation

We visited a few bars. By far the best was a quiet place that looked like a bottle shop but with a bar at the back. When you ordered 2 canya (draught beer) the woman gave you a plate with 4 bread and salami/chorizo pieces and 2 pieces of queso (cheese.) This happened each of the 4 times we did this, to our delight. It was brilliant. 4 euros a round! Much happiness! When that closed we ended up in a punk bar and I've no idea what happened after that or how we got home. In the middle of the night I woke thinking where the hell is my camera but it was right next to the bed on the dresser. (Whew!)

All this was not the best preparation for the long haul back to Blighty. Breakfast at reception was so hungover I nearly puked when Nick opened the lid on the sausages at the buffet. Forced down a plate of sultana bran between hot flushes and set off to catch the bus to the airport. Not good. The BA strike meant an extra night in a hotel near Heathrow but a large free buffet and comfortable free room made the experience that much better. Not that I enjoyed the 4.30am start next day, though I got back around 10am, in time to go for a run with Mary. Nice to be home!