Finisterre is the name of the peninsula that pilgrims would come to after walking to Santiago and seeing the crypt of St. James, one of Jesus’s apostles. The name means literally, “the end of land”. It was the end of the world for early pilgrims who would watch in amazement as the sun went into the ocean.
My how things have changed. Now people bicycle around the world. A hotel and lighthouse clutter the point. Normally thronged with tourists there is a bus parking lot and public bathrooms.
I think I would have liked seeing it 500 years ago. I would have liked to have felt that awe that earlier pilgrims felt. But I can’t get past my global awareness. Alone on a cold December morning I console myself with peeing off the end of the world, a rare opportunity on a small planet.
But oh, what a beautiful morning to be out on a bicycle.
Looking east into the coastline of Spain.
Ahh, the Finisterre peninsula. The town is Fisterra.
The hotel and lighthouse at the tip of the Finisterre peninsula.
The goats of Finisterre.
Finisterre looking west.
Hey, someone left a brass boot.
Looking East, up the coast of Spain. That is a radio tower.
On the ride back to Cee, where I spend a second night. Cee is tucked into the inlet before the mountain.
Once again the truth of the saying “It’s the journey, not the destination.” is verified. My thoughts now turn south towards Portugal and Morocco. I am excited to wake up tomorrow, pack my bike and ride. How wonderful to look forward to each day with enthusiasm- and a little trepidation. I’ve made a cheat sheet of Portuguese words which I have tucked into my handlebar bag to study as I ride.