At 6:45 am everyone wasn’t up this morning. What’s up with that? I had to pack up in the dark instead of having the room to myself.
For a day where I returned to sea level I spent so much time climbing. I directly followed the Camino all the way to Finisterre. For the incredibly steep descent to Cee, I braked and slid down the gravelled road. When I couldn’t cycle the trail up out of Corcubion, I carried my bicycle. Hills too steep to cycle I pushed my way to the top. Many steep hills with loose gravel making it hard to climb. I’ve worn the tread off my rear tire, purchased just before I left.
I can’t believe I considered not cycling to Finisterre. Arriving in town at 3:00 pm, I decided to go ahead and cycle through town to the cape carrying all of my gear, instead of finishing the ride unloaded. The Romans thoight Finisterre to be the farthest point west in Europe, and now the end of the Camino. I’ve only been following the Camino for 8 days; I can’t imagine how it affects those who have followed it for 30+ days.
There are few thing in life that leave me breathless. Finisterre is one of them.
I’d wondered if by waiting until after everything to search for an albergue if I’d have a hard time finding a bed, but the first one I stopped at, just outside Castillo San Carlos, had a bed for me.
I had someone at the hostel try to convince me to cycle to Muxia, because of the fabulous scenery. I told her I generally wasn’t impressed by scenery. She was a bit disgrunted by that. It wasn’t until later I thought that a better explanation would have been that all sceneary is special; going another way just means different scenery, special in its own way.