My Way: beyond dogma

Just passed through Santiago De Compestella, hooked up with Nancy for three days and now walking out to Finisterra, the end of the world on the Galicia Cote del Morte (Coast of the Dead) where the Celts and Romans are reputed to believe that the spirits of the dead went.
I have two valorous dead.
First, my wonderful boots. They are worn out by well over a thousand km of prep and actual walking of the Camino. Blister free. But the uppers are breaking up and heels worn away. I intend to do the traditional burn below the lighthouse if it is allowed. I have been told by a veteran who has done the trip several times that there is an almost continuous bonfire there fuelled by the garments of pilgrims completing the walk to the setting Sun. We will see.
The second death has been my faithful Sony Z1 mobile that has taken  nearly 2000 photos in the last two years and become my primary electronic Swiss army knife for coms. The glass has broken for the third time, the chassis twisted, it is no longer waterproof and it now only accepts small recharges.
So in Santiago Nancy and I discovered a mobile fixer who shook his head in horror, pointing out that it would be cheaper to replace than repair. Consequently, I am in the delicate process of transferring everything to a newish second-hand Z3 successor.  Yes I will give it a decent burial into the recycling stream so it can live again as a vacuum cleaner circuit board or perhaps a critical part in a future Terminator.
I will complete the walk in another two days and, wearing my back-up shower  sandals,  bus it back to Santiago were Nancy will be finishing her course. Bikes will be waiting for both of us to repeat the journey to the coast. That is the last of the serious walking for this trip, my legs are close to worn out too.
Walking these final few days is a totally different experience to the long journey to Santiago from the French border. Only the rugged few complete the full 4500 year old path all the way to the coast instead of calling it quits at the climactic swinging of Botafumeiro at the Santiago cathedral.
A little more spirituality and less of the easily digested Christian propaganda.

So today, like so much of this weird north west corner of Spain, today was magic, like walking through some children's unicorn storybook...if it weren't for the incongruous and pervasive Tasmanian blue gums. They are a local pest and serious bushfire risk; our revenge for the rabbit and Lantana.
So it goes.