It was a 20 km walk Friday from our pension in Pedrouzo to Santiago and we flew the whole way like we grew wings in the night. We leapt out of our beds at 4:15 and were on the road by 5. Pitch black walk through dense, eucalyptus forest in a cool drizzle of rain, only a spot of light and our Santiago-senses to guide us. But we weren't alone. Lots of pilgrims with itchy feet rose early that morning.
On the way we met Susan and Natalie, long time companions and dear friends we'd only just been reunited with the night before. At breakfast with them I prayed the pilgrims prayer for our group for the last time. At the end, when we asked God to bring us to journey's end and return safely home, I started to cry. Lauren was wiping away tears too, abd susan wrapped me in her arms and cried with me. How many times had we prayed that prayer together? Every time it meant something different. That day it meant a hard won victory at long last.
After that I couldn't seem to stop crying, as my wild journey came crashing towards its conclusion. I've never felt so fast as I did walking through the cold rain to Santiago, not willing to stop long enough to put on my rain jacket. I didn't want it. The cold drops felt amazing. And the rain kept the Tourogrinos (tour bus pilgrims) from clogging the roads. Lauren and I walked alone in blissful, tearful quiet until at last the city came into view.
It was a long time getting into the city, and the cathedral didn't show itself until the very end. I was terrified to see it, and ecstatic. People in the streets must've thought we were crazy, outstripping all the other walkers, crying and grinning histerically as we raced for the church. What a journey! And an end visible before us at long last.
We descended into a tunnel, then rode up just in time to turn a corner and face St James cathedral. Nothing can compare with that feeling. No achievement could ever equal it. Not graduating from college. Not anything. And we were crying all over again, hugging and throwing our poles on the cobblestones, gazing up at the face of the church and at other pilgrims around is, smiling and crying with us, nodding and congratulating one another and soaking in one of the greatest moments in a lifetime. Laying down our long carried burdens, plopping down and laughing. Knowing it was all worth it. And then friends everywhere and Sarah who'd been waiting for us and we were swept along in the excitement of it all and a part of a massive community who understood and had carried similar dreams of their own arrivals in this crazy remarkable place. I can quite honestly say I've never experienced anything like it, and never could again. Because even if you walked a second time, entering Santiago could never feel like that again. Like pure electricity and joy and perfect relief.
Later, after a long mass where they didn't swing the incense, we received our compostelas, the Church's official recognition of a completed camino that has remained the same for a thousand years. Turns out my Latin name is.... Robertam?
Mama had gotten us a gorgeous hotel just a few minutes walk from city center where we could rest and rejuvenate before a tapas and fireworks (benefit of arriving for the Saints Day celebration) night out with Sarah.

















































