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| Thanks boots but it is time to die |
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| The end of the Roman World |
I walked to the end of the world today...well the Roman one anyway. Must have been a great place to retire from the army at the height of the Roman Empire's power. A long white beach, lush green forests plunging down iron cliffs to a dark blue Atlantic. And only a stones throw from the deep, watery abyss to where all souls went after death, off the Galician Costa da Morte.
I did the traditional thing at Cabo Fisterra, walking out below the lighthouse and leaving my boots. These were the boots that had seen me a thousand kms of prep and actual walking of the Camino from France; good boots that never gave me a blister but now breaking up and beyond repair.
I peeled them off at the blackened officially recognised fire pit below the stone cross. I placed them with a bunch of other people's offerings of clothing. No one spoke in the warm windless afternoon. Other pilgrims sat around on the bare rocky slope staring out into the misty azure where there was supposed to be the horizon. An Italian tourist understood exactly what I was doing and added some of her tissues to the insides of my boots so they would burn better when the time came.
I put on my shower sandals and slowly walked the hour back down the hill to the town.
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