July 9: Finisterre

July 9: Finisterre

We get to the Atlantic the same way the pilgrims of old did: the 9:00 AM bus. Unlike donkey transport, it's new, enclosed, and has no fleas. People around us speak a swirl of languages, none English. Between Galician “acthents” and Portugese, it’s hard for a foreigner to pick up many Spanish words. Scout is able to make out enough to get a sense of “If it wasn’t for all these damned Portagees, we could kidnap the two dumb Yanquis and collect a big ransom for the Galician People’s Front.” “Don’t bother. They don’t look like the ‘big ransom’ type. We need Neiman-Marcus, not these WalMart people. Look at the shoes the man is wearing. They must have 850 miles on them.” Once again, we’re saved by thrift.

The ride itself is uneventful. Lots of pines and, since it’s clear, lots of nice views of the Atlantic. The bus requires two hours to travel about 40 miles. We thought it would be due to multiple stops, but starting late and arriving late seem built into the system.

Finisterra is a beachy, touristy kind of place with lots of winding streets and outdoor places where one can practice the art of European dining over a cup or glass of almost anything until closing time. For the hordes of Caminars, this is a cheap way to pass time, people watch and look at the Atlantic. Fishing is still an activity here, though everything seems pushed out into the bay so the place smells okay. On a 90 degree day with plenty of shady places to sit and look at the water, it’s pretty nice in a drowsy way. No rush to do anything. The one big “attraction” is a lighthouse on a point just outside the harbor, accessible on foot by an endless number of uphill switchbacks. Or you can drive and get it over with in ten minutes. Unlike picturesque old lighthouses, this one is fairly modern and utterly charm-free. You look at it for ten seconds, you go inside to look at the paintings of busty mermaids for an hour or so, uh, a minute or so, you walk around to the seaward side and the path that goes partway down to the water and, then you hike back to the hotel, a distance of 8 miles. Did I mention the heat? And that, as happens way too often, the only “restaurant” (i.e., source of cold drinks) was closed?

We slog back to our hotel, a nice 11 room place that used to be a sawmill. The kid who seems to do everything is the grandson of the original sawmill guy. His mom and aunt are the owners; he’s slave labor and cheerful about it. I ask about winters. He says it rains, but then there are warm and sunny days. His pants burst into flames; the hotel is two minutes from a big beach and the harbor has no noticeable windbreak so the winter Atlantic has to shoot right through here. Not a lot of sunny winter days, I’d guess. But a nice hotel, especially now. The breakfast includes a wineglass with strawberry jam inside, topped by yogurt, topped by corn flakes. Sorry, no bacon on top of the corn flakes. If you’re going to Finisterra, this is the place to stay.

As to whether one “needs” to go there as part of the “pilgrim experience,” I’d say Pass. It’s a nice enough place without it. The word Camino is like Supermercado, a word stretched to justify purely commercial aims. The “Camino” extends past Santiago to Finisterra with a path, markings and a post near the lighthouse marked to show that it is 0.00 KM, signifying either the end or the beginning of the road although Finisterra is neither. Still, our likable kid host at the hotel pointed out that most of their guests came from Camino traffic so…

Laundry Fiasco of the Day: draping our stuff over chairs on our little private patio in the evening (a hot day, remember?) only to find that clouds rolled in over night along with a 25 degree drop in temp and a lot of humidity. The result: all items wetter in the morning than the night before. Fortunately, a hair dryer can do miracles and, hey, we never had problems like this in San Diego.

Off to Malaga today (7/10) for a bit more relaxation time. Oh yea...after a long....8 hour wait at the airport.

Before we catch our bus to Finisterre, we head to the bus station. Doubt that this ramp would be ADA compliant in the states

Our own private beach - 100 yards from our room

And, besides a beach and view, our room had a tub and separate shower..sweet!

More views

O km mark by the lighthouse

On the climb to lighthouse

Lunchtime..and view

Ok, maybe two glasses

Lighthouse

Post at lighthouse

Deb by lighthouse

View down

Saw a Renault "Bipper" and two more Skodas..weird reflection of Deb

We saw lots of these structures on our bus rides to Finisterre and back. Our hotel clerk said they were to keep crops/supplies away from "rats" but that doesn't seem accurate to us. Your thoughts?

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