Looking down from the cathedral plaza in Santiago, this is the beginning of the path to Fisterre.

The way to Fisterra. That’s the spelling in Galician. In Spanish, it is the more Latin “Finisterre.”

Sometimes the only way mark is a faint arrow on the rocks. After a while, you begin to relax and trust that the arrows will appear when needed. And they always do.

A steep climb through lush and aromatic eucalyptus groves.

Stopped for coffee and an apple tart at a bar-cafe near Augapasada. The owner had a number of loudly singing parakeets.

The Roman bridge at the entrance to Ponte Maceira.

The falls at Ponte Maceira. Looks like good fishing.

Entering the town of Negreira, my stay for the night. The language in this area is a blend of Spanish, Portuguese, and Galician dialect. I am lost.