Finisterre is the traditional tag-a-long to the Camino, and many pilgrims choose to walk the extra 100 km to reach it as the conclusion to their pilgrimage. In fact, some pilgrims would consider bussing to Finisterre the blasphemous equivalent of eating ones own live young. We considered walking... For about 3 minutes. Lauren and I don't hold with those sorts of pilgrims. The Camino ended for us in front of the cathedral in Santiago, and taking a day to see Finisterre was simply a nice cap on it all. We had the idea that, after rising so early for so long and watching the sun climb behind us, it would be appropriate to see the sun set at last on our long journey from the cliffs of Finisterre, where medieval pilgrims believed the world ended and eternity began.
For us, though, staring West into the cloudy, oceanic expanse, Finisterre wasn't the end of the world. Because sitting on that cliff face and looking out over the Atlantic, I knew that I was really looking towards home. Approximately 4000 miles away, and about 500 closer than it had been when I began my walk, sat my own country, waiting for my return. Somewhere between where the ocean ended and the sunset began was America and everyone I love.
Even though we still have over a week to enjoy in Spain, our Camino was done.
The greatest pilgrimage of all is always the journey home.
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