“Where is everyone?!” I wondered aloud as we waited impatiently for a hostel attendant. We had to get checked in ASAP if we were going to make it to the coast in time to watch the sunset with our friends. We had just walked back-to-back marathon days in order to make it to Cape Finisterre before our return flight home and we were now cutting it VERY close.
It was 2016 and my wife Christy and I were about to complete our 500 mile journey across Spain on the Camino de Santiago. The last 100 km of our trek had been spent with Grace and Karen, a pair of young art teachers from Ireland who had become our trail family. Just two days earlier, the four of us had walked into Santiago together.
The Cathedral in Santiago is where most pilgrims end their Camino, but Christy and I had our sights set on the Atlantic Coast an additional 88 km away. (OK it was mostly me, but she knew I had my heart set on it and was a good sport about the bonus miles.) Grace and Karen had plans to spend another day in Santiago but promised to catch a bus and meet us at the coast.
After two long, hot, and difficult days, we had made it to the town of Fisterra, but it was still several more kilometers to the the 0.00 km marker at the end of the peninsula, which was where we were planned to meet our friends.
After what felt like an eternity at the hostel check-in counter, someone appeared out of the back. We paid as quickly as possible, threw our bags down, and hurried out the door.
We were tired but we felt a renewed sense of strength without the weight of our packs on our shoulders and with the knowledge that our friends were waiting for us. The road leading to the peninsula was longer and steeper than we anticipated and we urged our legs to move faster as the sun dropped ever lower in the sky. Were we going to make it by sunset? “We can’t miss it now. We’ve come too far!” We started jogging. Our feet and legs screamed in protest but we ignored their cries. We had to make it. We just had to.
Finally we crested the hill, our hearts pounding, and we heard familiar voices yell, “Over here! You made it!” My head was spinning. There it was: the sun, just above the horizon. This was it. This was the end of our Camino. I looked over at Christy and smiled, still out of breath. We hugged our friends. One of them handed me a drink. We took the above picture and watched the sun dip below the horizon. Just a few minutes later and we would have missed it.
Christy talked excitedly with our friends, filling them in on the rest of our journey and hearing about how they had spent their time. They had spent a day at the beach. One of them got a new tattoo. I sat quietly, staring in disbelief at the ocean as the last of the sun’s rays faded from the sky. We spent a few minutes exploring the peninsula, then we took a photo at the terminus (a 0.00 km marker) and made our way back down the hill. In the morning we said goodbye to our friends and began our journey home.
That experience at the terminus marked the end of our Camino and the beginning of many new passions: a love for (obsession with?) hiking, backpacking, and gear; a desire to live with less; connection with fellow adventures from around the world. In many ways, the terminus marked the end of one journey and the beginning of the next.
Terminus Gear Co. is the next stage of that journey. Through Terminus, I hope to equip people for their own journeys. If you’ve been looking for a place to reconnect with your adventurous side: you have arrived.
Jonathan | Founder: Terminus Gear Co.
