To read more context for the letter below, check out this post here:) 

Dear Pilgrim,

You’ve made it to Galicia. The bookending mountains reward you for your patience after weeks spent in the valley. You’ve entered the rainiest regions of Spain, and with that, comes a spectrum of colors never seen or noticed back home. Bathe in the pigments of Galicia.

Greet the spider webs in the morning light that host the dew formed in the dark, humid evening. Thank the chestnut trees that toss their wooly ornaments to soften the path below. Marvel in the tunnels of green oaks and beeches that twist and dance for you and offer a hiding place from the sunshine. Pause and study the paths so deeply marched into the ground that walls of dirt surround you. Stand still in rows of eucalyptus and listen for the history of the dense forests. You are on sacred earth.

Be prepared for the transition into the province. The walk up from Las Herreiras to O Cebreiro is difficult, but not quite as challenging as the Pyrenees. The road gives way to a dirt path which then opens onto a winding cliffside trail. The world changes when you cross the border: the language, the artwork, the food, the colors. Celtic knots and triskelion remind you of the people here long before the Christians.

The mood will shift as well. You are almost to Santiago. The walk from the Galician border may feel like one long festival—whether this is welcomed or not. Either way, you will hear the overture of arrival grow, even with over 100 kilometers left.

Take these final days to place your hand against a dew-covered tree. Let the dirt fall through your fingers as you sit and rest your feet. Do not move too quickly up or down the next incline or decline. Remember, pilgrim, these are your final moments of the journey.

Most importantly, show gratitude to your Galicia’s hosts. These souls entertain the largest crowds of weary travelers on the whole pilgrimage. They change over the beds, cook the stew, and set out the early morning breakfast. They keep the fire burning in the fireplace and leave out the yellow orujo for late-night storytelling.

      At the end of the journey, you will reach Monte de Gozo, the mountain of joy. At the top of this hill, turn around and say goodbye to this life, at least for now. Don’t rush to the end. Once the city takes you in, you will miss the silent trails and the smell of earth on a cold morning. You will dream of a road laid out before you without a knowable end.