See, Sea, Cee

I have ages before I have to be anywhere, so on Monday I left Santiago and headed for the coast.

I’m sure the rain helped with this, but the enchanted forest feeling out here just gets more and more dramatic.

I stayed at an albergue that was, upon my arrival, extremely ominous in its emptiness.

Sadly, various other people filtered in throughout the evening and the overall experience ended up quite normal.

On the way out of Negreira in the morning. I think maybe the whole town feels kind of ominous.

Speaking of ominous, this was the day I got really done in by the rain, but before all that I enjoyed some time with this guy.

This noble beast was enjoying a (no doubt well-earned) snooze at a country bar at which I stopped for some restorative lentil soup.

Tableau from a brief pause in the rain.

I briefly considered taking a bus to Fisterra on Wednesday, but decided to just go for it. Resolve steeled, I set forth.

Okay, hear me out, it’s like Cumbria but. . .

Actually, you should be cautious about making fun of Dumbria. It is apparently home to a werewolf named El Vakner.

I can reenact my favorite scene from Room with a View in half a klick? Joy!

Someone had a bad day with heavy machinery.

Wednesday ended in Cee, which is the kind of slightly-run-down seaside town of which I can't get enough.

I'm not saying there wasn't a downtown that looks modern and lively, but there is a lot of buildings you would definitely call "charmingly derelict."

My room came with a narrow but charming view of the port, and a key chain with which I'm confident I could kill someone.

Because the last day was a short walk, I got up pretty late. Here is the view from the west side of the bay.

I was so enamored of this cat that I took a wrong turn in order to pet it. Luckily, the guy in the white jacket set me straight.

The first view of Fisterra.

The beach leading to Fisterra. In olden times, this is where pilgrims would pick up scallop shells to show that they had taken this additional journey. Now the beach is picked over, and people buy them before they start walking. Instead, you get more contemporary artifacts.

I headed through town to the lighthouse at the end of the cape.

Past the lighthouse is the canonical end of the Camino Finisterra, commemorated by this shoe sculpture.

A couple of other folks out here ruminating at the end of the world.

Looking south.

Given that Muxia (where I'm heading next) is a contemporary addition, this is arguably my last meal on the Camino.

Addendum: not to be too snide, but maybe don’t worry too much about making fun of Dumbría.