Olveiroa to Finisterre
When I was 16, I went to an international Guide and Scout camp in Switzerland called Eurolife.
The idea was for groups to arrive at the camp by following the path of some of Europe's great rivers.
It was a concept steeped in nature, rooted in the natural beauty of the landscapes which surrounds us, and a reminder that while our destination may be the same, we will all arrive via a different road.
And so it would be with our destination today - Finisterre, literally translated to 'end of the earth'.
Martine was still in pain with her knee and so decided to hitchhike to a place called Cee, taking Manon and Ines for company.
We planned to all meet there and walk the final 10km into Finisterre together.
Rasmus and Sueon set out first, followed by Susanna, Davide, Tano and I. Knowing we had a big day ahead of us, we left before sunrise, being rewarded with an inspiring sky-scape of yellows, reds and blues.
It was to be another hot day, and with 21 miles stretching ahead of us, we were keen to get a good start.
We'd been making good time and were about 10 miles in when the Camino decided to give me one final test - I slipped while walking downhill and went hurtling down a stony path, with Susanna and Davide looking on in horror as I ended up in a heap a little way in front of them.
I have waved goodbye to dignity many times in my life, and I am sure this will not be the last.
Thankfully, my backpack broke my fall but I was bleeding from my hands and my elbow and my knee didn't feel so hot either.
The Camino taketh away, but it also giveth and just up ahead were a doctor and and army officer, who came back to patch me up.
There's nothing like lying in a heap on the floor with your leggings halfway down your bum to make you feel vulnerable. Matters became even more hilarious when Tano attempted to check me for cuts and bruises by lifting up my t-shirt with his walking poles, like he was poking at an injured animal.
Davide actually gave me a sugar cube, like you would a well-behaved pony.
My adrenaline was pumping by this point, so all I could do was laugh hysterically - I think Susannah and Davide were pleased as it meant they could laugh too. I'm reliably told watching me fall was damn funny.
Bandaged up and back on the trail, we stopped for lunch a little later, where I discovered that my knee was bleeding and in a pretty bad way too. Some bread, some chorizo and another bandage later, on we went to Cee.
The Camino does not reward those who make plans and today would be no different, we had planned to meet in Cee but somehow after much confusion we all missed each other. I felt really anxious that we wouldn't end up walking into Finisterre together, but sure enough just after Susanna and I had battled up another 'bastard hill' we found our friends.
From here on in, the walking got pretty hard. Adrenaline had kept me going to a point, but I could feel my body start to fall apart, my knee was shot, my elbow was aching and my feet were tired, tired, tired.
At one point, I was in so much pain that when Martine slowed down to walk alongside me I was ready to burst into tears.
However, before I had a chance to speak, she began playing '500 miles' by the Proclaimers on Manon's speaker, and the tears became laughter, joy even. I did some quick maths - without realising it, Martine had played this song at exactly the point I'd walked 500 miles.
This gave me enough energy to drag myself along for the final few kilometres, by now we had spotted the ocean a few times and I knew I had an appointment with the Atlantic.
The final 3km was a hot, long slog ... and then, there they were ... the beach, the ocean, the end.
I let the others go on ahead to the beach and held back a little while to watch my friends run, throw off their backpacks and head for the water.
I finally had the 'moment' that I'd searched for and never found in Santiago. I felt the full force of what I'd achieved and I felt a desperate need to launch myself into the water.
Stripping off to my vest top and underwear, I found the energy that I'd lacked on the final stretch and ran to greet my friends.
Martine and I embraced in the water before I waded out further and further, wanting to submerge myself as much as possible. I won't lie, it was fricking freezing in there, but it felt so symbolic, so I stood my ground, hands on my hips, my feet firmly planted in the sand, looking out to the horizon.
My body may have been a little broken, but I'd never felt stronger.
"For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea." - e.e. cummings
