At the End of All Things

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This morning I woke up to the crying of seagulls. The little albergue was so friendly and relaxed, and the Irish boy made breakfast for the few pilgrims who were there, and we all ate together. I went for a long walk on the beach to collect more shells--the symbol of the pilgrim all the way since St. Jean-Pied-au-Port. This has been the perfect way to end the Camino.

Here at the end of all things...but, the road goes ever on and on...

Finisterrae is so peaceful: gulls crying, dozens of fishing boats putting about, stacks of lobster traps, old men mending nets, and little boys rowing about in dingy's.

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