<p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">9/29/24, cloudy/rain, 10-18C.</p><p class="ql-block">Finisterre to Muxia, 27.9km, 887/-890m.</p> <p class="ql-block">After Finisterre you can either walk or take the bus to Muxía. I had plenty of time and decided to walk. The forecast was for rain today and the road had +887m uphill, so I checked my backpack. When I left the Albergue at 8.30am, I could still see the sun rising. In an instant, the morning sun went down, followed by a light rain. Today's walk was very good, often in the forest, the trees here were very upright. With a small bag on my back, I felt like a tourist as I walked along the pine-needle covered path. It suddenly occurred to me that this path was a bit like a certain section of the road in Journey to the West, a Chinese legend. It would be interesting to develop a walking route along the lines of the legend. Suddenly I heard a strange noise, I was shocked, is there a goblin here? When I turned around, I saw two pilgrims standing on another road a hundred metres away, waving their arms and shouting at me. It turned out that I hadn't seen the turn sign when I was imagining things. If someone is shouting at you on the Pilgrim's Way, pay attention, you are probably going the wrong way. The signposts in this section are often in pairs, one pointing to Muxia, the other to Finisterre.</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p> <p class="ql-block">It was a very windy day, the leaves were blowing and rustling, but unfortunately there was also a low frequency hum, the sound of the windmill blades turning in the wind. For the 22-24km stretch, the road was so close to the windmill that it felt like a big plane was flying over my head. Today's road was the most scenic I've done on the Camino so far. At 15:30, I arrived at the albergue.</p> <p class="ql-block">I stayed at the Albergue Arribada today, I was given the top bunk, but this bed has real stairs and no problem getting in and out. I kept in touch with my friends from the Borda gang and exchanged news. When seeing this photo, some of my friends told me to be careful. Someone had fallen off the top bunk where they were staying in the middle of the night and luckily he was fine.</p> <p class="ql-block">It was raining outside and I was chatting with two of my fellow pilgrims in the kitchen. The Canadian lady suggested to tell about strange encounters on the pilgrimage. She started first. She was afraid to cross bridges. On the second day of her Portuguese pilgrimage, she was stopped by a bridge. After a while a young pilgrim came along and she went up to him and asked for help. She had to hold on to the man's backpack, keep her head down and look at her own feet, and follow the man to cross the bridge. Once across the bridge, the two walked together for a while and she learned that the young man was a clergyman, now in Rome for further study. The two soon parted at their own pace. Two days later, a second bridge was to be crossed. Guess what she saw on the bridge, the same young man! We all called it strange.</p><p class="ql-block">The German girl in the picture told me about her strange encounter with a pilgrim who was scattering ashes along the way. As soon as she spoke, I asked if his name was Carol. Yes, it was him. As I said earlier, C and J were traveling together. Then J's wife suddenly needed an operation and J cut his trip short to come back. We never heard from Carol again. I recontacted C through the German girl.</p>