Entry into Santiago

We all set off individually between 7 and half past. About half a km down the road yellow arrows send us into a wood where paths divide and it's impossible to see more directions in the dark. My torch is good for searching for stray possessions in dark dormitories, but not for woods in blackness. I stand running its feeble beam up and down tree trunks in search of a clue. A German couple come with a bigger flashlight and we find our way.

Ironically the Camino has now been diverted around the airport that will take many of these pilgrims home. It's one of the uglier sections.

I catch up with Jon and Andreas who somehow have got ahead of me. At Lavacolla, the meeting of two rivers, pilgrims traditionally washed for the first time since beginning their Camino. I wash my neck and face in the river. It's a bit too cold for this to be a real pleasure, but even though I have showered daily, I do feel a pilgrim grubbiness clinging to me that I long to shake off.

There is a Spanish equivalent of Durham's Mountjoy, Monte de Gozo, where pilgrims get there first sight of their goal. Unfortunately trees block any sight of Santiago from the papal monument there. Andreas and Jon take their shoes off here as traditionally pilgrims used to. Jon insists that this is a tribute to Constance, who regularly ran around town in bare feet. I decide I had better head on without them, but with boots, if I am to make the pilgrim mass.

I get into Santiago and meet Angela who gets me to the Pilgrim's Office. As I'm getting my compostela a man behind the desk looks over my credencial and asks where I've come from. I explain my journey and he reacts with great appreciation and not the bored disdain I had expected. His name is John, he is from Glasgow, and he offers to take me over to the sacristy so that I can concelebrate the Pilgrim Mass. I'm asked to offer an intercession, and as it is the feast of All Souls, I pray for our beloved dead and for Murdy in particular. I also offer this mass for him.

All the gang are at mass and I see them as they come up for communion. Afterwards we visit the shrine and hug the statue behind the high altar. Getting to Santiago is a time of hugs all round and it seems fitting that St James should be included in the hug-a-thon.

Then lunch -a very good pilgrim meal- and a room, a single room, in the excellent Seminario Mayor, en suite, half board for €23.

A relaxing, joyful, evening full of remembering, and slipping into old comforts. I get new shoes for just €20 to replace the hopeless plimsoles I've been using when not in my walking boots. I packed these thinking it would be too cold for sandals, but what i gained in uppers, I lost in sole comfort: these offered no protection from cobbled streets, and quickly grew holes to let in water. I can't tell you how luxurious it feels to be wearing comfortable shoes again. We have G&Ts, and huge Galicean steaks at a restaurant with a large tank at the front where you can choose which lobster will not be sleeping with the fishes tonight!

We joke about the hardships of the camino: trying to get dry and decent in cramped shower cubicles with one hook on which clothes and towel must be strategically hung, or getting sleeping bags crushed into stuff sacks and possessions packed in the dark early morning dormitories. "Life is becoming less complicated," I find myself saying, but Kris corrects me, "Life is about to get more complicated all over again!"