Rest day in Santiago de Compostella

Before Martine and I climbed into our beds the night before, I had promised to wake her up with a birthday 'burrito'.

A burrito is best described as a 'mega-hug'.

So as soon as my alarm went off and still very possibly drunk from the night before, I fulfilled my promise, 'burrito-ing' a blurry-eyed Martine on the morning of her 29th birthday.

That day we were all going to the Pilgrim's mass which is held at the Cathedral every day to celebrate the safe arrival of each person into the city.

Before starting my journey, I'd booked myself into an Airbnb in Santiago, thinking I'd treat myself to a little luxury at the end of my trip, so that morning I went to check into my apartment.

It was gorgeous, but it felt weird being on my own in there, I felt a strong need to share it - when you've lived in community for a while, the only true pleasures are those experienced with friends.

True to form, I was almost late for mass, the cathedral was jam-packed and I couldn't find my parents. I managed to spot them just before the service started and sat in between them, holding their hands, with my Camino family just a few rows ahead. It felt very peaceful.

The mass was all in Spanish and so was a bit hard to follow. The big moment we were waiting for, is when they read out the names of each of the countries the pilgrims arriving the previous day had come from.

We ended up missing this section completely - so typical of the Camino, that something you believe will be so meaningful ends up being a damp squib, while something seemingly insignificant can have you weeping in seconds.

After mass, I went for lunch with mum, dad, Martine, Susanna, Ines and Manon. I was beyond tired at this point and my poor parents were faced with a wreck of a daughter.

Sleep was the only option, and so I returned to my little apartment, sleeping for a solid three hours on my own in a bedroom for the first time in 36 days.

That evening, I went to meet the gang at the hostel, stopping on the way to buy a birthday cake and beers for Martine.

As we gathered together in the garden, it was a great opportunity for us to tell her how much she meant to us - she'd given us all so much.

I told her that when we saw her outside each new hostel every day, with a beer and a smile for us, we knew we were home.

We went for dinner at a fantastic vegetarian cafe that night, but I found my appetite to be very small - my stomach doesn't deal with heartache very well and I knew that tomorrow would be full of goodbyes.

Don, Janne, Rick, Abdal and Magda were leaving in the morning and the rest of the gang would start their journey to Finisterre. I was staying behind to spend the day with parents and planned to catch up with them later.

Back at the hostel, we shared a beer before Don walked me back to my apartment. I'll always treasure this little walk with him, although I don't think he'll feel the same as I managed to get us lost.

I have such affection for this man - so solid, so encouraging, so fun. I'm so glad we got to spend this time together walking in the cool breeze of the night, reflecting on our journey.

It seems you can find deep moments of peace even in the shortest of walks.