Today I wake up late—or at least I try to—since I have the hotel room all to myself. I have breakfast at a café that looks promising, then set off around 8 a.m. The sky is cloudy, ideal for walking. This time I’m walking at a faster pace than yesterday. These are the final 18 kilometers. I feel some pain, but it’s nothing compared to previous days. I walk alone most of the time. I feel light. This time, I don’t stop halfway, only pausing to refill my water with 12 kilometers left.

As I pass through a village, I notice there are fewer pilgrims, and I don’t see any yellow arrows anymore. I ask a local if I’m heading in the right direction. He says I’m not and points me to the correct path. I leave the village and face an uphill stretch. I feel low on energy but keep a steady pace. The climb feels endless. Hunger starts to kick in, so I decide to eat something before reaching the end. I find a restaurant but get a bad feeling about it, so I leave and keep going. Great decision, because a few minutes later, I arrive at Monte do Gozo—the end of the climb.

In the distance, for the first time, I see the city of Santiago de Compostela, partially hidden by the mist. I text Lora to ask where she is, and she tells me she had a rough night and isn’t feeling well. She stopped about 4 kilometers away to have a beer and recover a bit. She gives me the name of the restaurant, and I see it’s just 5 minutes away, so I go meet her. I find her sitting there, looking downcast. When she sees me, she gets up to give me a hug. I order a beer and sit with her. I tell her about my day, and she shares hers. We laugh, and after a while, she says she’s feeling better. We get up and continue walking.

We’re entering the city now, and the scenery is different. The yellow arrows blend in with the urban signage, so we need to stay alert not to lose our way. The last few kilometers are pleasant. We see the cathedral in the distance. We’re so close now. The pain in my feet and knees fades away. I feel renewed. We enter the old town, walking slowly as we reflect on the journey. There are mixed emotions. We want to reach the end, but at the same time, we don’t want it to be over. We start to hear the sound of bagpipes, getting closer with every step. We pass through a small square behind the cathedral. I can’t believe these are the final steps, after two Caminos and 500 kilometers. When I started, I didn’t think about reaching the end because it felt so far away.

Finally, we go down some stairs, pass through a tunnel, and there it is. I take a moment to process where I am. The cathedral is enormous. People are admiring it—some are crying, others hugging. There’s a unique energy, vibrant and melancholic. We’ve finally arrived in Santiago de Compostela.

We take some photos at the cathedral, and soon Mary, a friend of Lora’s, shows up. The three of us go to a bar for a beer. We chat for a while, and Mary tells me she’s a Scrabble champion. After a bit, we part ways, agreeing to meet later.

I head to the office to get my Compostela, the certificate they give you for completing the Camino. I explain that I started on the Camino del Norte and covered 500 kilometers in total, but they tell me they can only list one Camino. I don’t mind; I’ll write it in by hand later.

I return to the hostel and take a 10-minute nap. Then I go out to explore the city. It’s drizzling, so the streets are mostly empty. I go back to the cathedral square to admire it a bit more. I’m still processing everything that’s happened. I call Lora to meet up for a meal. She tells me she’s at a restaurant killing time.

I find her there, sipping a glass of wine. I join her, and she tells me she’s reserved a table at the Italian restaurant next door. We have 30 minutes to spare, so we wait. Then we go. We order pizza, pasta, and wine. We stay late, chatting and reminiscing about the great moments. She tells me how a lady criticized her walking stick, and I share how I was also criticized. We laugh. Then she talks about the pandemic, her son, and the reasons she decided to do the Camino.

The restaurant closes, and we’re the last ones to leave. We walk a bit more and share a farewell hug. Nostalgia washes over me. It’s midnight, and I go looking for the Canadians, who told me they’d be at a bar. I arrive just as they’re leaving. I hurry to catch up and hug them excitedly. We go to another bar and have one last conversation, as interesting as ever. We talk about what we’ve learned on the Camino, and I express my gratitude for having met them. We say goodbye with a big hug.

The streets are empty and wet from the drizzle. I put on some music and walk back to the hostel, processing everything that’s just happened.