The stranger gave me a small robin’s egg blue booklet with a seashell printed on it:” The Camino to Muxia and Finisterre is the epilogue to the longer trails leading to Santiago,” he told me. His name was Michael Iglesias, a former pilgrim just as anyone else standing on the queue in front of the Pilgrims office in Santiago de Compostela. It was only later when I turned over the pages and saw his name that I realized he wrote the book himself. As any other encounter that comes your way on the Camino, you take it as a sign and follow it in a heartbeat. I started a journey throughout Galicia, the land Hemingway once called home. Following the route to Costa da Morte - a pilgrimage that wraps you in its Galician spirit and takes you to the edge of the world. Located on the most western side of A Coruna, integrated in the region of Fisterra, Muxia is a true cornucopia of visual imagery. A final destination for pilgrims on the Way of St James, this rocky peninsula is rested on the “Coast of Death”. Mostly known as a fishing village, it is also a pure colour legacy. As a young aspiring writer, I was engrossed by the openhearted culture of this land. I was determined to explore it through its legends and locals’ stories: what was it to live, as many believed in the past, on the last outpost of the known world. It was Branca, the owner of a mom-and-pop bakery called Panadería Jurés, who introduced me to the art of pastry in Muxia. “First you have to try the iconic Tarta de Santiago, made of almonds, Galician liqueur and a pinch of cinnamon, then we continue with homemade churros, or…or the inimitable Miguelitos!”. She was literally putting the fluffy phyllo-like doughs filled with chocolate in my mouth. “You will find them a delightful treat for your sweet tooth, darling!” The fact that this enchanting place cannot offer more than one small café, a rather poor bookshop, a bijou size gallery and a tourist office bring people together. Indulging in long conversations which hardly can be repeated since Muxia is more of a temporary home to pilgrims than a place to live. As luck would have it, I later found myself in Rustica Alemana. A tiny local bar, which wraps people from all over the world in welcoming embrace, inviting them to celebrate the end of their pilgrimage. One such chinwag over a bottle of Albariño, a traditional Galician wine, with Carlon became my insight to the history of this place steeped in aeons of mysticism. Carlon was, as it immediately appeared, a kindred spirit from Ireland, a fisherman who has moved to Muxia many vintages ago. A captivating storyteller. Without further ado, Carlon became my personal travel guide. Known as a fishermen’s land, Muxia owes its name to the famous Moraime – monastery of the sea, founded in late 10th century. For a long time, the village’s economy was contingent upon the monks. This wave-lashed point was a sacred place for the Celts until 12th century when, according to the history, Galicia was converted to Christianity. This was also the time of St James’s arrival. The history of Muxia is bound to the Shrine of the Virxe da Barca (Virgin of the Boat) and the Stones in the surrounding area object of both magic and religious worship for ages. Legend has it, it was the Virgin Mary herself, appearing in a stone boat, who lent St James a helping hand in his preaching throughout Galicia’s fields. Some of the Stones are part of that boat, which has remained there all through the ages. “Can you see the Camarinas estuary with the unmistakable silhouette of the Vilan lighthouse in the background?”- my Irish friend asked me. “From here, Muxia appears mildly lying in the middle of the seashore” – Carlon quotes the Muxian poet Gonzalo Lopez Abente. Mount Cachelmo, recognizable from afar due to its rough sandstone, within its dark core, is home to one of the biggest marine caves of the entire Costa da Morte: the Buserána furna. A furna is a cavity created by the erosion of the seas against a weaker surface of the mountain. In this furna, Gonzalo Lopez Abente placed a legend. “Buserán was a minstrel who fell in love with the daughter of a castle lord from this land. The lord, unhappy with the relationship, ordered that the minstrel be thrown into the sea. With Buserán’s disappearance, his lover wandered along the coast searching for him, until, one day, he emerged from the sea riding a wave and took her with him into the depths. Ever since then, it is said that her singing is heard coming from the depths of the furna.” – Carlon’s stories held me spellbound. My 1 000 km spiritual journey led me to Muxia, Spain’s land’s end. I made it to the 0 km mark and watched breathtaking sunsets. Witnessed the arrival of hundreds of pilgrims. Heard fishermen revealing the mysteries of Galicia. Together, we burnt all the socks, clothes and boots, signifying the art of letting go. These were all markers of the end of my trip, but not the end of my Camino. As Priest Ernesto, whom I met along the way, said: “Camino is about community. It’s about having and understanding of yourself so that you can go out and do better by the world”.