· James Torr · Personal  · 2 min read

I'd heard about the crowds starting in Sarria, and to some degree I was prepared mentally for it. I'd not walked the three plus weeks that the full-timers had, but it was a stark contrast between the quiet Galician countryside today. The walk is pretty our little group leaves after 8, and there are dozens of fellow pilgrims on the way out of Sarria. The vast majority are tourists, starting from Sarria. A beautiful sunrise passing through a pine tree is punctuated by dozens of photographers, including myself of course.

Day 24: Sarria – Portomarín 22 km

I’d heard about the crowds starting in Sarria, and to some degree I was prepared mentally for it. I’d not walked the three plus weeks that the full-timers had, but it was a stark contrast between the quiet Galician countryside today.

The walk is pretty our little group leaves after 8, and there are dozens of fellow pilgrims on the way out of Sarria. The vast majority are tourists, starting from Sarria. A beautiful sunrise passing through a pine tree is punctuated by dozens of photographers, including myself of course. It does take something away from a wondrous moment when you’re surrounded by onlookers.

There are pleasant moments of course. I pass by a couple of ladies from Texas, and Iranian and Asian immigrant. The latter is 79 and very much living her best life. Shouting, joking and bubbling up with so much energy that I want a bit more of what she’s having. She’s joking about the sparkling inside the granite rocks being “bling bling” as we pass. This is the second time she’s done this. I can’t blame her for taking the Sarria route at all.

On the way into Portomarín, there’s a bridge over a wide river. It’s an amazing way to enter our final destination, but not one for those suffering vertigo. I pick some wild hops growing up through the trees below the bridge, they smell the same as the ones from back home.

After check in, the afternoon is spent lazily walking around town, a beer, a nap, chatting on the square with the blocky church overlooking. There’s quite a few of the pilgrims from my previous week, so it’s nice not to be surrounded by tourists, and a very pleasant way to end such a busy day.

It’s strange to end this long walk this way. It feels somewhat like a bittersweet aftertaste. On one hand, there’s all these fine people I’ve shared this time with, they’re still here, but they’re competing with many other people. The vibe is different. Maybe I’ll leave early tomorrow. I’m in no rush, but it might be good to retrieve some of the spirit of the last few weeks from these final days.

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