The end of the earth.

95km on from Santiago is a place called Finisterre. Up until the late 1400's, it was known as the end of the earth. It's not hard to see why.

I had all the best intentions of walking there, but I made a promise to my knees about 9km out from Santiago that if they got me to the finish line, I would do the right thing by them and catch a bus. So i did.

I hung out with a beautiful boy named Marius the whole time - we drank Campari by the sea, saw the sunset at the beach, had a beach bonfire with the local nomads, watched people burn their walking shoes (which turn out to be a VERY good source of heat), and sang the Australian National Anthem by request.

We played the noseflute on a cliff and slept in a yet-to-be-occupied tomb on the side of a mountain. My mum called as I was waking from the "tomb". It was her birthday - it was one of those "well you'll never guess where I slept last night" conversations...!