El Camino Revised Packing List

My goodness, did I learn the hard way the wisdom of packing light. I can now see how easily a backpacking trip can be derailed by a too heavy pack. Despite the mental strength, and even physical ability to carry a heavy load, your body will undoubtedly suffer for it. I am so unbelievably grateful that my bum knee made a full 100% recovery within a week of ditching over 10 pounds from my pack. 

My initial pack weighed approximately 33 pounds with food and water. After shipping the items annotated below, it weighed approximately 22 pounds with food and water. What a HUGE difference. One of my dreams is to thru hike the Pacific Crest Trail, and I will endeavor to get my pack down to 13-15 pounds without food and water. El Camino was a perfect learning experience in terms of the importance of minimalist packing (within reason). 

Below is my revised packing list for El Camino. Please take into account the time of year when packing for your Camino. I walked in September and October, and the temperature ranged from cold (40 degrees F) and rainy in the Pyrenees to hot (mid-80s) and sunny in the Meseta, back to 40 degree mornings in the Montes de Leon. Additionally, I had a few days of very heavy rain. The summer is EXTREMELY hot, especially in the Meseta. The Way is quite civil, and you should be able to find everything you need or a variation of it in the bigger cities and towns. 

Buen Camino!

Clothes:

1 Packa (rain jacket and pack cover in one) - a nifty design but tended to get damp inside the jacket due to trapped body heat (Kelsey was not a fan of this, and ended up buying a rain jacket and used the Packa as a pack cover only)

1 lightweight jacket (Arc'teryx) - perfect heat to weight ratio

1 fleece jacket (purchased in Santo Domingo) - used exclusively for post hiking lounging

1 pair of rain pants (Marmot)
1 long sleeve shirt (Smartwool) - Smartwool anything is fantastic

1 long sleeve shirt (Columbia) *

1 short sleeve shirt (Smartwool)

1 pair of shorts (Mountain Hardware) - never wore these to hike, but were convenient to wear when I was doing laundry

2 running pants (lululemon) - used one pair as after hiking and pajama pants and the other as exclusive hiking pants

1 lightweight dress (Patagonia - goodbye gift from Kate!)

1 blue bandana

1 pair of gloves (The North Face)

3 underwear (Exofficio) - excellent, quick drying design

2 sport bras

3 pairs of socks - purchased 2 additional pairs in Leon in response to the rain in the Meseta, but ended up not needing them

1 pair pink compression socks (Zensa) *

Pajamas *

1 pair trail running shoes (Salomon) - LOVE these shoes, all future trail runners will be Salomon 

1 pair water sandals (Keen) - great after hiking walking shoes but poor shower shoes as they didn't dry fast. I would recommend an additional pair of lightweight flip flops to shower with.

Gear:

Backpack (Gregory Deva 60 L) - despite being a heavier pack, it is so comfortable I couldn't feel the weight at all

Trekking poles (Black Diamond - borrowing from padres) - clutch

Sleeping bag (REI Sleeping Bag/Liner - decided to ditch North Face bulky mummy bag for this) - a perfect sleeping bag for the temperature

Insect repellent sleeping bag liner (Sea to Summit) - not totally necessary as you won't be sleeping outside, but it helped my state of mind in some of the dicier albergues (doesn't do anything against bedbugs though)

Sleeping pad (Therma Rest) *

1 blue tarp (instead of tent) *

Small gear:

1 Roll of duct tape *

Multipurpose tool

Knife

Earplugs

Collapsible cup *

Spork *

Trekking laundry wash

Journal *

Sunglasses

El Camino guidebook - if hiking in a group, one book per group

Camelback *

Water bottle

Headlamp

Clothing line 

Ziplock bags (purchased in St. Jean)

Medical/Toiletries:

1 first aid kit (includes basics)

Blister pads

Defense plus pills - I didn't need these, but they would have been handy should I had the beginnings of a cold

Ibuprofen

Multivitamins *

Cortisone, Allegra, Atarax (sensitive skin defense)

Cetaphil *

Tiger Balm

Insect Repellent *

Sunscreen

Toothpaste and toothbrush

Shampoo

Face wash

Deodorant

Half a role of toilet paper

Quick dry towel

Hand sanitizer

Anti-chafing foot cream (purchased in St. Jean) - I rubbed this on my feet every morning and was spared any blister pain. Not walking at top speed also helps against blisters.

Knee brace - I only needed this for a few days, but I kept it the entire Camino, just in case

Electronics:

iPad with Lifeproof case - not necessary, however, I will be taking the iPad with me on all future travels and wanted it to read iBooks and blog (although you could read and journal on a phone, or have a real book and journal). In hindsight, I would have preferred an iPad mini. 

iPhone - perfect for taking photos and transferring them with ease to the iPad

Camera (Samsung w/ wifi) and charger *

Adaptor

Chargers

Totally unnecessary, but...:

Tongue scraper *

PB2 Chocolate Peanut Butter packets

Jewelry (ring and bracelet)

Mascara *

* shipped from Navarette to Santiago

Wished/Should Have Had:

Hat

Cross body bag- to carry my essentials when exploring post hiking

Pillow case

Finisterre Fotos!

A few more visuals of Finisterre courtesy of mighty Tobias. It already feels a bit like a beautiful dream. 

Upon seeing the ocean.

Not planned at all...an appropriate reaction.

Pre ocean swim.

Post ocean swim.

Taking it all in.

Cena.

Walked with Aloha on El Camino, from St. Jean to Santiago and Finisterre. Aloha Espana. 

Finisterre

I shall try my best to tell of the epic journey to Cape Finisterre, the "End of the World"...

Lying awake, late into the night in Santiago, my body surged with the sensory tingles signaling an adventure. Quietly going back and forth until midnight, Kelsey and I spoke of our Camino, of what it all had to meant to us, and the significance it would play in our lives. In the morning, I was walking on my own, and I fell asleep dreaming of an optimistically ambitious day. For me, the sense of closure had not yet begun to set in, as hours of walking still lay in store. A restless sleep for a little more than a few hours, and I was up at 0530 to begun the ritual preparation of my mochila. 

It felt strange to be moving quietly in the dark packing my things, as Kelsey still slept. Before I left, she woke and we gave each other a hug full of strength and deep friendship. I was going to sorely miss the comfort of walking with a companion, and the sense of security and togetherness that it brings. Rarely are people talented at saying goodbye, and so as we fumbled through it, and we knew in our hearts we would see each other soon. Aloha, Kelsey. 

 

Solo.

Walking past a sleepy hotel receptionist at six in the morning, I mentally revved up my resolve for the day's toil. I walked to the plaza in front of the Catedral and said a silent prayer, feeling very much on my own in the light of the gently illuminated facade. The night can be darker and more intimidating when you only have yourself for company, the hunt for the way markers and yellow arrows all the more pressing. In the darkness, with sunrise over two and half hours away, my thoughts skipped over all manner of buoyant thoughts (like acai bowls) in order to distract me from my over reactive imagination (of zombies).

Hawaii in Spain?

I left Santiago prepared with my rain Packa, and the drizzle pattered off and on through the gray sunrise and milky dawn. Up and over a mountain, through quiet and sleepy villages, I pressed onwards. It was a welcome solitude on the trail compared to the busy days leading up to Santiago, but I was glad to see other pilgrims after walking the silent path for over four hours. I was walking at a rapid clip, so my conversation was limited to "Buen Caminos" as I raced past slower pilgrims. 55 km (34 mi) was my goal for the days walk, leaving only 35 km for the following day to Cape Finisterre. It was honestly a silly distance, but a combination of travel logistics and a "can-I-do-it?" mentality had me set on tackling it. 

Gulping down a croissant, toast with butter and a giant hot chocolate (a scrumptious side effect of walking long distances is the uninhibited consumption of carbs) after five hours of walking, I was primed to keep the press. About this time, a little more than 22 km in, I thought my goal may be a real possibility. I mentally prepared myself for a 14 hour day, imagining pulling into my destination, Olveiro at 2000. 

Rain distorted.

Notice the mud soaked shoes. Poor feet.

Onward! The rain steadily began to build, but I was walking through scenery that resembled Ferngully, so I was too distracted by the natural beauty to be humbled by the elements. Hour upon hour passed. Squlmphch, squlmphch, the sound of my shoes in the miles of dead leaves and mud was my soundtrack with my bastones adding a pleasant click as they landed upon a rock. 

Around two in the afternoon, however, things took a dramatic turn. 

I imagine a god of the sky, like Zeus, suddenly clapping his hands in a flurry of sound. With the incessant drizzle as my only warning, the sky suddenly seemed to press down onto me in a deep, dark angry depth of gray. The temperature dropped, the pressure shifted, an energy was released into the air, and sheets of rain began to wallop me from above. The wind howled as it drove the rain like shards of hail into my face and hands. I could hear nothing other than the shriek of the wind, I couldn't lift my eyes for the driving pain of the rain. All around me trees bent at their boughs, and grass whipped around in a frenzy. My heart was racing as I pressed my body forward against the wind, desperately hoping I was still on the right path. The fields of trees and grasslands around me began to flood, pouring the dark brown runoff into the trail, sending a river of water up and over my ankles.

The bent trees before the real storm even started.

"Okay" I thought, "no storm like this can last for long." Wrong. For the next three hours, I and the few pilgrims I passed endured unbelievable conditions with zero shelter. We pushed our bodies forward, with a singleminded focus of making it to our destination. It was fitting that we were walking to the end of the world, as it felt like a fairly apt description. Later that evening, I would learn that the wind had been blowing at over 62 mph and it rained over 2 inches over the course of the afternoon. As one pilgrim put it: "Estamos loco." We are crazy.

I drove myself forward, inexorable, spirit strong, marveling at the fury of the storm. My only fears were that I would be crushed by a tree, or receive a massive infection from the dirty water I was continually walking through. My body didn't begun to suffer until the last few kilometers of the day. A deep ache set itself into my feet and shin bones. I was going much further in one day than I had ever gone in my life. This distance wouldn't have been possible without the preparation of walking for over a month on the Camino. 

Risking my iPhone in the rain because this looked like a wet, cold version of Joshua Tree.

Finally Olveiroa was in view, hallelujah. Ducking into the first albergue, I was greeted  by a warm smile and the promise of laundry. Hobbling in a stupor of fatigue, I realized I had walked the distance in just under twelve hours. It is safe to say that I was in beast mode all day. 

Sitting in the albergue's cafe, consuming three KitKat bars, an omelette sandwich and a hot chocolate, a string of beaten pilgrims continued to stumble in wide eyed and exhausted. One such pilgrim was my good Camino friend Tobias. He had left Santiago in Sunday, the day before me, so I was so happy to see a familiar face. Watching the news in the cafe, the top story was the extreme weather and "coastal phenomena" all along the Galicia coast. To make matters worst, the next day was predicted to have even worst weather with the added bonus of lightening and thunder.

A visual of the route I accomplished from Santiago to Olveiroa via Negreira.

For the first time, I was facing the real possibility that I may not be able to overcome the obstacles the Camino was placing before me. I could endure another day of rain and wind, but lightening... I collapsed into sleep that night, fearful of what morning would bring.

Setting out at seven, the sun still hidden, I began walking as swiftly as possible. My rationale was that the weather had been clear the previous morning, so I would try to get as far as possible before the storm descended. Within the first 5 km, I saw three flashes of lightening, the wind was roaring in my ears, and rain was sporadically falling in great drops. Suddenly it was clear. Rain, okay. Wind, okay. Lightening, not okay. Arriving at the last cafe before a 15 km stretch of nothing, I knew my Camino was over. Every flash of lightening had my heart racing, scanning the horizon for shelter that was not there. I resolved to wait for the first pilgrim to come through and see if they wanted to share the cost of a taxi to the town of Fisterra to see the Cape and lighthouse. I was heartbroken. After 850 km, I was defeated 30 km from the end.

Nursing a cafe con leche, I looked up and Tobias walked in the door. He was smiling, exuberant at the calm weather outside. Wait, what?! Over the 45 minutes I had been sitting in the cafe, the foreboding clouds had morphed into a civil wispy gray, the rain had ceased, and a soft breeze lifted the leaves gently from their branches. It took him 30 seconds to convince me to pick up my mochila and walk with him. We would walk and see, maybe we would make it to Fisterra, maybe not. But it wasn't time to quit. I had given up, but God, the Camino, life, Tobias hadn't let me.

We set out, and commenced to walk faster than I had the entire Camino. We covered the next 15 km to Cee in a little over two hours. The weather still loomed, but miraculously, we seemed to be outpacing it. Faster and faster we turned our legs, talking about adventures, relationships, travel, and as the time slipped away we crested a steep hill with a bright neon green Camino marker near the top. 

Turning the corner over the hill, my breath came in great gasps, my heart thudded thunderously within me, and a great shout went up from the two of us!

It was the ocean. The OCEAN! The scent of tide pools and salt filled our nostrils. We had walked over mountains, across plains, through cities and the Meseta, and we had reached the ocean. Jubilation is an understatement. That feeling of euphoria, of tears of joy that had eluded me in Santiago came sweeping into my soul. This was where I was meant to continue to. I had been so close to quitting, but something had kept me going. And as if the blessed sight of the ocean wasn't enough, we were walking into blue skies.

The next 14 km to Finisterre were like a dream. Walking along the coast, smelling the beach and ocean filled us with renewed vigor and life. Rounding a final turn in our path, we beheld the town of Fisterra, red roofs and white buildings, a magnificent beach as its entrance, and in the distance the furthest point in Spain, the Faro (Lighthouse) de Finisterre. 

Fisterra.

My first steps in the sand. Please excuse my destroyed feet. 

Tobias and I knew what we had to do. We had been tested the previous day (and many days before) and had been given the gift of blue skies and sun the day we reached the end of our Camino. It was time for the Way to literally cleanse us of the weight of life's worry. We were going swimming.

We swam and turned our laughter towards the sun, and I never wanted the moment to end. God was smiling upon us, there is no other way to describe it. Emerging from the ocean, my skin tingling from my scalp to my toes, I felt so alive and in the moment. This was what the Camino was all about.

Tradition has it to burn or leave behind your clothing upon reaching Finisterre. My faithful purple shoes had seen their time come and pass on the Camino. Literally falling apart and smelling rather awful, it was time to leave them behind. Once I took them off to walk in the ocean, they did not go back on. The scallop shell was one of two perfect, unbroken shells we found on the beach. Tobias has the other.

Exhausted we found our way to the Municipal Albergue where we presented our credencials and received our Finisterre Compostelas. 90 kilometers in two days, having walked the last 35 km at a 6.5 km pace. I was drained, but full of divine contentment.

Our albergue, Albergue do Sol e da Lua, was strikingly similar to the hippie albergue before Cruz de Ferro. There was a no-shoes-allowed meditation room, the tree of life was painted on the ceiling of a lounge room, and they offered vegetarian meals. Walking to our room, I saw a sign on the door. Of course, it was called the "Mikael@" room. Everything clicks into place, everything makes sense and is as it should be.

Wandering through the town of Fisterra, both Tobias and I were feeling the strain of the day's walk. We decided to wait to walk the last 3 km to the lighthouse for the morning. Parting ways, I found a bakery (big surprise) and Tobias headed to an Internet cafe. Winding my way back to the albergue as the sun began to slowly set over blue skies and wisps of clouds, I was suddenly seized with the urge to go the rest of the way, to finish it right then and there...the last steps of my Camino were calling me. Dashing into the Internet cafe, I tapped Tobias on the shoulder and said simply "we have to go now." Giving me a huge grin, he packed up his stuff, and we were out the door in less than two minutes. 

We left the town practically at a run. We streaked up the hill, curving around the coastline, the lighthouse dipping behind the hill with every curve. And suddenly, cue my racing heart, we were there. The Camino could go no further, we were at its end. Stopping by the 0.00 km marker, the wind blowing around me, I was engulfed in the enormity of the moment. It is impossible to describe the feeling. It was as close to perfect happiness as is possible. 

Just beyond the marker, we passed the lighthouse, stepping into the whipping wind beyond its shelter to one final cross on the rocks. The deafening roar of wind, the constant crash of the ocean, we were shouting with exaltation, laughing, crying, feeling, being. It was everything, all the Camino in a flash of moments. 

The last yellow arrow.

Tobias leaning against the wind.

 

We celebrated in true pilgrim style with a huge communal meal, new and old pilgrims from my Way. Paella and ice cream for me, heaps of seafood and a bottles of wine for everyone else. Returning to our albergue past midnight, I could barely sleep despite my exhaustion. What an immense feeling.

On the bus.

This morning was straight up lazy. It was my first morning in over five weeks that wasn't designed around walking. Finally the time came, Tobias and I said our goodbyes and I boarded a bus to Santiago. Sitting in the very front of the upper deck, with just a windshield separating me from the rushing world, my Camino lodged itself in my heart, as the physicality of it fell away. I will admit a touch of fear, as the bus sped up to 90 km per hour. I felt myself reaching for an invisible brake to slow everything down. It was all going too fast. I saw Camino way markers disappear by the side of the road in seconds, the earth gobbled up by the movement of the bus. What took hours of walking and strain, was accomplished with zero effort in a few minutes. I was a little bit sad, and I always knew it was inevitable, that at some point my Camino would be in the past. The Way will always be a pinnacle moment in my life, and I will carry what I have meditated on forever...but it must have a sense of conclusion.

I sit now again in O Paris in Santiago, taking in my last night in Spain. I have loved this beautiful Way, with its hardship, the expectations met and not met, it's every step and every emotion. I would not have had it unfold in any other way, in any other time in my life. It showed me my Way.

To all, Buen Camino, en todo de vida. 

Santiago de Compostela

Dawn broke this morning, rain resonating against stone streets, dribbling off gutters and flowerpots, the Cathedral's bells tolling their fine voice, and we are in Santiago de Compostela.

Yesterday morning, Kelsey and I woke early after a sleepless night. It felt like the first day of school, except we are at an ending of sorts, not a beginning. Hands shaking ever so slightly with barely contained expectation of excitement, I quickly packed my mochila in our behemoth of an albergue. Monte de Gozo is the last albergue before entering the old city of Santiago, so it is a sprawling 400 bed campus devoted to pilgrims and their needs. Except, it felt deserted. Only two of the 30 block dormitories were in use, and a lonely cafe, restaurant and supermarket stood dark, their windows covered in white sheets. The demand that the summer and holy years brings has created this place, but it is left quiet much of the time. It felt a touch lonely and intimidating to spend our last night before Santiago in such a foreboding place. Certainly the torrential downpour of rain that kept us trapped in our small room had a bit to do with that.

Our last guidebook consultation over tostada.

Walking out in a dark night, a soft sprinkle falling from the dark clouds, we walked the final kilometers into Santiago. It is like deja vu from our first morning leaving Roncevalles. Waking before most pilgrims have stirred, stepping into a dark night, and walking away. We stopped at a cafe for tostada (toast) and cafe, and to receive our obligatory stamp in our credencials prior to our arrival at the Oficina del Peregrino. 

Credencial completo.

Following the yellow arrows and scallop blazes at our feet, our bastones clicking against the cobble stone streets, we traversed from suburbs, to boulevards, to narrowed stone walkways. And like a Frank Lloyd Wright home, we stepped from a small opening, the world pressing down upon us, and into the wide open. Our spirits soared, as the vast plaza of the Catedral de Santiago de Compostela swept downwards at our feet.

With the light gray sky as our cover, we were the only people present in this magnificent place. The early morning and a few errant pigeons were our only company as Kelsey and I simply looked at each other and laughed. We were here. Here at the resting place of St. James the Apostle, here on the Western edge of Spain, here together, here standing on our own two feet. 

We had made it this far at the pace of our own strength. To go as long as 33 days without the aid of something motorized to get from here to there defies a universal truth for most people in the Western world. The Camino gave us the challenge of walking across 490 miles of a foreign land, having been wholly inexperienced at long distance walking, and with only our inexorable spirits prompting us along. I never doubted that we would be physically capable of walking here, but still I am humbled by what has been accomplished. 

Aloha Santiago.

We walked through the generous plaza, necks craned towards the spires piercing the sky. Planting our feet at the Camino de Santiago stone marker centered to the Cathedral, it felt like this moment, alone in the plaza, was a gift for our toil.

Receiving our Compostelas.

Arriving at the Oficina del Peregrino just prior to the opening at nine, we joined the queue of wet, grinning pilgrims. Soft congratulations and "buen caminos" were passed around. Walking through the stone arch into the office, a hazy surreal film touched everything. Instead of speaking our reason for walking the Way, we filled out a form. I was a horizontal line of information amongst the many pilgrims who had arrived before me. I wrote my name, age, checked female, proudly wrote U.S.A., and wrote my reason as "Aloha Spirit." And in beautiful penmanship, my name was written in Latin upon my Compostela. Suddenly it was in my hands, placed there by a smiling volunteer. Standing next to me, Kelsey received hers, and we held them carefully, rejoicing right there amongst our fellow walkers, bikers, pilgrims.

Kelsey translates to "Victoram" in Latin?

Michaelam Ariadnam Rodkin.

Missing the sign forbidding mochilas in the sweeping Catedral de Santiago, we walked within and paced the quiet space. Only a few other pilgrims, tourists, and observants were our company as our eyes were pulled towards the golden shimmer of the alter. The remainder of the Cathedral is simple, and spacious, soaring ceilings and wooden pews. With our bulky mochilas and bastones we squeezed into a narrow staircase and opening behind the alter. I was filled with disbelief that anyone is given access to walk there. 

Our feet followed the path tread by so many before us to the crypt of St. James. Lighting two candles in his presence and kneeling before him, my hands clasped before me, my mochila pulling me downward, I was a tumult of reflection. My mind skipped around, refusing to land with peace on anything specific. I was overwhelmed with thoughts of what I should be feeling, what I should be thinking and experiencing. I only knew that El Camino, the Way to Santiago and St. James, has heart. This path has spirit, and it nourished me to keep going. 

Behind the alter.

I am not Catholic, and I never approached the Camino as a religious pilgrimage. From my observations, very few people fit the mold of a true pilgrim, depending solely on the gifts of strangers for shelter, food, medicine and life. Most walkers have designer clothes, high tech foot gear, plenty (sometimes an abundant amount) of food, a warm room with a bed every night, and are never more then a few hours walk from a cafe and toilet. Yet, the Camino is undoubtedly challenging. Beyond the obvious difficulties, I have encountered myself and my own weaknesses on the Camino. Life is logistically simple for the daily doings of the Way, but there is much internal work to be tackled. The wheels of morality, courage, goodness and selflessness turn and turn, and the Camino gives you the time to let your mind sort through so much that gets lost in daily life. 

Yesterday I received an email from my Kate. "I know you are swamped with thought and introspection...but sometimes it is good to take a step back after working yourself so hard and just give yourself a simple pat on the back for completing a big goal - no analysis, no critique, no epiphanies or revelations.  Just wake up, arrive and enjoy the day with the lightest, most blissful spirit possible." Amen.

El Camino is no finer example of the journey vice the destination. I did not fall to my knees, overcome with emotion or experience a lightbulb strike of "the meaning of life" when I beheld the Cathedral. I was grateful no doubt for so much, but the Camino has long since become more about the love of walking and fellowship. In fact, I think that that was always my expectation, what I always pictured in my mind's eye was the joy of movement rather than the satisfaction of reaching Santiago. I pictured meeting people, deepening a friendship, and being everyday in the great outdoors. I am happy to be in Santiago, to have set out and accomplished a tangible goal. And as I let out a great sigh now that I am here, I feel as though I have neither picked up, nor released any massive burdens in my life. Life is wonderful, before and after.

Dropping our mochilas at our hostel we found a "coming full circle" cafe for fresh croissants and hot chocolate.

We had lunch here two days in a row. 

Returning to the now packed Cathedral for the noon pilgrim mass, we spotted many familiar faces amongst the revelers. Prior to the service, a member of the Oficina del Peregrino announces the number of pilgrims who have registered in the previous 24 hours and their country of origin. Los Estados Unidos. Our United States. The Mass was beautiful, with pilgrim priests from various nations joining the retinue of local priests to deliver the service in Spanish, English, German and French. Hundreds of voices joined together in the singing of psalms, and we shook hands with all the pilgrims around us, murmuring "Peace be with you." Our arms around each other Kelsey and I watched the pinnacle Botafumeiro, the ritual swinging of the giant incense burner. This traditional was born with the need to fumigate the masses of sweaty, smelly, disease-ridden pilgrims congregated in the Cathedral. The dramatic organ rumbled in our hearts, as a group of velvet robed attendants hoisted the Botafumeiro in the air, arcing it over the heads of the gathered, incense spilling down from the heavens.

The remainder of our first day in Santiago was a relaxing schedule of cafe sitting, reading, the quest for laundry (amazingly, we couldn't find a single place to do our laundry, so I still smell like a weary pilgrim) and eating. For dinner we even had sushi at a fabulous little place, with a richness of texture and taste that reminds me of a romantic evening in "Any-City", USA. Santiago is a much more urbane city than I had envisioned, and with its large university, it is one of the more popular destinations for tourists in addition to pilgrims. Fortunately for this Kelsey and I have been eating to our hearts content frozen yogurt and salads and we even treated ourselves to a comfy hostel our first night, and tonight in a magnificently beautiful converted monastery, San Francisco Hotel Monumento. 

Julia! Our first Camino friend from St. Jean. It is only fitting we should run into her again in Santiago.

Tomorrow, I will walk alone fore the first time on the Camino. I will be following the yellow arrows out of Santiago to Finisterre well before dawn and Kelsey will be boarding a bus bound for Porto, Portugal. From there, she will begin the journey back home. I am very much going to miss my friend and Camino companion. We have spent more time together than many people do in a fledgling relationship. Supporting and listening to each other, growing deeper as individuals through friendship, we have guided each other both physically and spiritually. I cannot imagine having walked this Camino any other way and I am infinitely grateful for Kelsey. Tonight we celebrated in grand style with the most delicious dinner of our entire trip. Taste bud sensation plus sentimental parting equals a perfect last night. I don't know the next time we will see each other, but it will be as great friends, two people who can weave a story and remember how the sun rose that day over Cruz de Ferro. 

Tomorrow I will begin the last phase of my Camino as I will walk towards the end of the world.