This meal is available throughout northern Spain for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or just because. Eggs, toast, and Serrano ham. Add the ubiquitous fresh-squeezed orange juice and your choice of coffee – you have all you need to walk 30+ Kms. And on this last day of my Camino experience, that is the plan. To the end of the world . . .

The only time I’ve seen a split indicator. Go left to Fisterra, or go right to Muxia. Fisterra is the place the Romans thought to be the furthest point west of the known world – a notion not seriously challenged until the Spanish rulers financed an exploratory voyage in 1492. Muxia is considered one of the world’s spiritual “thin places,” and was deeply significant to the Celto-Iberians. To many Galicians, it still is.

My last uphill walk of this Camino. Rainy and beautiful.

This passage was just wide enough for me with a pack – barely. It’s the “medieval path” from the seaside village of Cee over the hills to Fisterra.

My first glimpse of the sea. I admit to a surge of joy. This view has existed in my imagination since crossing the Pyrenees. And today, it became real.

My candidate for best beach house ever. Complete with tile illustrations of the Cross of Santiago, Santo Iago preaching to the Celts, and Vasco de Gama’s ship with the cross of Santiago on the sail.

You probably don’t have one of these in your home yet, but I’m bringing you one in my pack: a tile painting of Santo Iago (Saint James, brother of Jesus) preaching to the Galicians.

My first access to the beach as I approach Fisterra. By the end of the afternoon, I’ll be quaffing wine on that point in the distance, sitting at what was once considered the end of the earth. Buen Camino, indeed.

Camino marker 0,0. This actually makes no sense, since all the other Camino markers show the distance to the cathedral in Santiago, which to a peregrino is all that matters. But taking poetic/department of tourism license, it is cool to stand at the end of the ancient world. There is power in resetting the dial to zero, no? From here, you can go anywhere.

A contemplative peregrina.

The furthest point at the furthest point.

This is the fire pit at Cabo Fisterra. There is a quasi-tradition of pilgrims burning their boots or Camino clothes here, in a ritual of ending the experience. Not me. I’m going to wear these Lowa boots until they fall off my feet. Best boots I’ve ever owned.

The lighthouse at Cabo Fisterra. They do still call this the Costa del Morta, after all. The Coast of Death.

The village of Fisterra is a working fishing village, in addition to catering to pilgrims intent on the final journey. The seafood here is exceptional.