The Big Walk

Finisterre – Day 1

A calming litre of vino tinto in a bar on Finisterre harbour brings us to the end of this day of apprehension. The train, London tube, flight, and two buses have brought us a thousand miles from York in a single day, the landscapes rushing past punctuated by the stress of trying to catch the transport for the next onward stage. When we finally get off the last bus, we check into a hotel, before setting out at last on foot for the cape itself, the westernmost tip of the European continent. This plodding pace will be our rate of progress from now on. We pass the huge square lighthouse before settling down to sit in silence on the last rocks just beyond, and watch the sun slowly sink into the ocean. As the light fades we saunter towards the village, and only when half way back do we suddenly realise we’ve already began our long walk east. We head down to the harbour, filled with a flotilla of tiny fishing boats, and into a bar.

We’ve been going to an evening class to learn Spanish for the last year, but now we’re here we only extremely nervously managed to buy our bus tickets and accommodation. In the bar we understand little on the menu but nervously order pulpo which we know is octopus, and zorza – we have no idea what this is but it turns out to be tasty fried pieces of pork with chips. Only as the foul, sour red wine begins to flow freely (and the taste improve) do we manage to at last relax and savour the feeling and excitement of being here, at the start of a great unknown.