THE MOUNTAIN AND THE END OF THE WORLD

I´ve been in Spain for 10 days now and haven´t posted anything, so I´ll start off as I left my last post with some thoughts and observations:

- Spain was more or less a military dictatorship from 1930s to 1970s. Given that, its quite impressive what has been accomplished here in terms of social well being and economic development. Given that, many parts of the country, particularly outside the cities, are still a bit behind the times.

- Spain is composed of about 17 provinces, some of which are natural and go back years, others of which were created simply for governing. A few of these provinces, Pais Vasco, Galicia, Cataluyna, date back well before Spain and have notions of idendenpence much like Quebec in Canada. They all have their own variation of Spanish that is unique to their region. The Basques in Pais Vasco, known as the ETA and for their terrorist acitivities, is the most well known, established, and agressive. While much less than a majority in each region seek independence, the goverment has gone to great lengths to give them a bit of it. Pais Vasco is largely self governed, maintains the right of taxation, and remits to the national government a percentage of that. Many other provinces seek such freedoms. Much more to say here, but...

- As mentioned before, Spanish is only the official language. Here in Galicia, they speak it and Gallego. Needless to say, the Central American Spanish is a bit different.

- The political sentiment here is much like Portugal, but being able to read the newspapers and magazines has given me a sense of why. The reports are generally brief, not balanced in viewpoint, and only focus on areas that portray negatively. Some of the things I have read and seen have shocked me. For example, the Michael Moore film has been in the news.....and its treated more or less as an authoritative and accurate portrayal of American politics, Bush, and the wars. And the national TV station is government run, and, without a doubt, influenced. Quite shocking overall.

Alrite, back to my world. Spent two nights in Vigo upon arriving, and they were quite uneventful. Basically had some things to take care of, and needed a city to do it in. The city itself in nice enough, but nothing special.

On 3 July I went to Santiago de Compostela. As I might have mentioned, this was the endpoint for St Santiago on his pilgramage back in the 8th century or so. The catedral there, built in various stages over 800 years or so, is enormous and impressive. Each side has its own entrance and style of architecture, and the detail both outside and inside is incredible. So back about 20 years ago, the Pilgramage on the Camino (walk) de Santiago was a bit out of fashion and only 400 or so people per year did it. Now the numbers are about 400 per day pass various points along the path. So the town is full of people with walking sticks and clamshells who have just finished the walk, which takes about 35 days in its entirety. Anyway, spent 3 days there messing about, seeing the sights, and relaxing a bit. Hooked up with a nice place to stay for 15€ a night, so no complaints.

Set off for the coastal towns on Louro and Muros on Tuesday the 6th. Muros is a small historical fishing village, Louro a small town just up the road, both on the mouth of a river feeding into the ocean. Camped in Louro close enough to the beach to hear the waves at night. Walked about a bit on Tuesday eve, made it about 5km away and down a small road to the Ponte de Louro, where a lighthouse stands at the foot of two 250m mountians coming right out of the water. Had a thought.....so Wednesday set out to hike/climb the mountians. My gear: trainers and a bottle of water. Consulted a local out picking berries at the base, he said, sure, go ahead, climb it. No trails, no paths, no signs, but looked easy enough. And then.....the vegatation that looked innocent enough - anywhere from 2 to 8 feet in height, much of it thorned. The rocks - much more comfortable than the thorns, unless I had an unfortunate encounter in which gravity won against my balance. Along the way I had one casualty and one acquisition: lost the St Paddys day hat from Seoul somewhere in the thick of things - no chance of backpedalling for that, so it rests in peace for any Seoul Gael looking for a pilgramage; the acquisition was a 4 foot stick, which lucky for me was the toughest piece of wood on the mountain, and without which i would have been in much worse shape. Each bit climbed revealed more to go, and like an oasis in the desert, it also looked as if in 10 meters things cleared up a bit. Regardless I made it to the top, and have fotos to prove it, just not yet. Spent a good 30 minutes chilling out under the sun and enjoying the view. Then I figured, since I did the one peak, might as well do the other, about 100m away with about a 50m did in between. Once again, the oasis analogy. But I made it, and again, have the fotos to go along with it. Of course now I think, mission accomplished, head down, go for a shower and a beer. If only. Turns out going up was the easy part. Its hard enough to pick the best path down when everything looks the same, but I certainly failed in doing so. The majority of the path down, after getting by the 10+foot rock faces, consisted on vegetation so dense the outside world dissappeared. I alternated between doing my best Smeagle imiation and going under densest brush when there was a relative clearing underneath, to plowing straight thru it with my ever faithful stick, to walking on top of it, anywhere from 1-3 feet off the ground. If you can´t walk thru it, Smeagle yer way under it; if you can´t do that, then walk on top of it, if that doesn´t work, return to walking thru it. After what seemed a good long time, I reached a clearing enough to see the water below....and it didnt seem any nearer than at the top. Not wanting to stop for a moment, just kept on going til finally i was through. No damage except for a good number of small scratches on the arms, legs, and neck. The shower, dinner, and wine that night were all fabulous.

Needless to say, the following day I took it easy, messing about Muros for a while, then heading back to camp for eats and a quiet night.

This morning I set off way to early, 730am bus after packing up camp, for the End of the World - Cabo Finisterre, which is the western most part of Europe. From there the people back in the could see, as the figured, to the end of the world. The weather wasnt promising, clouds stirring and all, and the local that pointed me in the right direction from the town was none too encouraging. But off I went. 40 minutes later, and only a slight bit of rain, I arrived at the lighthouse. While a sunny day might have been nice, the low clouds limiting the view did add a bit to the whole end of the world thing. In the midst of the clouds, couldn´t help but think I was back in Seoul or Tokyo, where any view just disappears into the smog after a few hundred meters. Walked out to the point where they have a bronze bust of ole St Santiago boots (he made it here after Santiago). As there was a road going up to Monte San Guillermo, I set off up another mountian, granted this time on paved or dirt roads. Stumbled upon a great view amidst the clouds looking out to a beach below, and have some nice pics of that. Otherwise, just limited visibility in amongst the clouds. Back to town in time to retrieve my pack from the shop I left it before they closed for siesta. While eating lunch, the rain started to pour. Guess the early morning was worth it. Took the bus from there into La Coruna, where I am now.

I´ve had to reante twice on my net time, so that´ll be that. For now.