Thought we might manage to sleep until 7am but we seem to have trained ourselves to wake at 5.45am. Or maybe it was the pure excitement that we will arrive in Santiago today.

We are actually up and out by 7am, after a nice chat with Ronan from Ireland (who is walking his 11th Camino)

Decided to start walking immediately rather than have breakfast, as there are now many more cafes open, with hoards of pilgrims eager to consume…and the guidebook says that there is a café after 3km and again after 7km.

We are some of the first out of the hostel, but there is already a procession forming along the camino.

A shell marker points us into a dark forest of oak, ivy and eucalyptus. Some people are using torches on their phones but there’s no need - the eyes can adjust. There is a party of teenagers 100 yards ahead creating an eerie glowing sphere in the pre-dawn gloom.

One teenage girl walks alone beside us, in gym trainers, cartoon bag and a plastic raincoat - she’s dressed more for a stroll in city streets than a dark, muddy country track.

We hear two big crows calling back and forth to each other high in the trees somewhere…they sound prehistoric.

Walking through this very dense forest with a broad mix of trees was like being on the set of either Lord of the Rings or Jurassic Park.

Hamish teased me with various horror story scenarios, where pterodactyls or pteranodons would silently whisk me off without him even noticing...“the pterodactyls sound hungry this morning, stay close” he says… What a horror!

There are mystical sounds of a hand drum in the middle of the woods… quite magical… and we realise it emanates from a man sat on the ground in the dark by his stall. Nobody seems to be stopping to check out his table of trinkets, or for his stamp. He probably cycles into the woods each day to claim his spot.

The gloom of the woods must have been masking much of the sunrise for us, because as we emerge from the trees we are taken aback by how light the morning has become.

We are facing a very uniform cornfield and bear left on a long straight track. We look down to a wide flat plain where the airport is. We hear a jet taking off.

There’s a thick blanket of mist on the land and only clusters of distant treetops pop out.

Spiders have been spinning stunning webs, shimmering in the morning sun…some perfect specimens.

We decide not to stop for coffee at the 3km village - big cafe queues. We will push on to the 7km one.

They’ve been felling the eucalyptus woods here very recently - in what looks like a desperate, rushed and untidy way. The track is lined with bare trunks bitten off midway up. It looks like a World War 1 battlefield image. We wonder if the authorities were worried about wildfires near the airport.

At the 7km village we bump into fellow Scots Ali and Chris in a long cafe queue, but I scout out the next cafe, The Patio, and luckily there’s no queue there. We devour a huge cooked breakfast. Omelette with cheese, bocodillos toast with ham, bacon, lettuce, tomato, and egg. With coffee and OJ. Yum.

An Irish lady asks us to watch her stuff for her while she goes to the bathroom. And I grab a moment when there’s no queue at the village chapel to get a Camino stamp. The steps up to it are guarded by a charming light grey cat.

The hoards of people on the way make it feel like we are all on the way to a football or rugby match.

We actually walked right around the airport runway, but amazingly, it still feels like you’re in the countryside.

We passed Radio Galego and I have a sharp memory of passing it 11 years ago, alone in the dark at around 5am on my final morning of the Camino Francès. My mind takes a wander down that memory lane of emotion.

In the last 6k, there is a general bustle of energy and excitement. Everywhere I can hear people discussing how they will celebrate, and what they are going to do when they reach Santiago.

At 5k there is a sudden fog that descends on the sunshine, and the temperature drops.

Our Camino Bingo game is now in full flow with dozens of folk around us. Whenever we stop to take off a layer or have a drink of water, more points march past: 1 for staff, 3 for “walking wounded” and an 8 “carrying weight” for a very heavy looking backpack.

We fall in and out of step naturally with Ali and Chris for the final couple of kilometres. We also receive messages from fellow pilgrims that they have arrived at Santiago cathedral, including Adam and Bron.

Excitement mounts as we catch a glimpse of the cathedral spire in the distance, but it is still a long approach along many cobbled streets…one peculiar aside, is that I notice dozens of dental practices. Santiago must be full of exceptional teeth and smiling faces.

The first person we see is Andrea, who is on his way out of town to walk the final 90k to Finisterre. What a joy!

There is an archway leading into the cathedral’s grand praza (square), where there is a fine gaita (Galician bagpipe) player busking.

As we arrived into the praza itself we were walking in tandem with Ali and Chris and soon bumped into Adam and Bron… the square was absolutely buzzing and the sight of the cathedral was spectacular! The sun was shining and we were bursting with excitement.

It didn’t take us long to see (and hear) that there was a lot more going on here than we first realised.

Apparently there was a carnival preparing to kick off!

The rhythm of drums and metal was filling the air. Add to that, the spectacle of the most ornate handmade costumes worn by children and pensioners alike. Masks and costumes made from corn, papier-mâché, shells, feathers, bone, teeth, wicker… with so much attention to detail.

The place was alive with music, bustle, excitement and activity… and it felt so special that we had arrived into this incredible atmosphere.

When the various groups of performers started to gather for the apparent procession, we tried to find a good vantage point, which was a bit tricky as we still had our rucksacks on, and the queues around the cordoned passageway were deep.

In the end I found a nice spot sitting on the ground next to a toddler in a pram. Perfect, as the performers all came over and made a fuss of the wee man!

What a spectacle for eyes and ears! In particular, the sight of the Galician dancers brought Hamish to tears. There were troupes of wolves, goats, eagles, bulls, all manner of excitements delivered in such a dramatic fashion, drawing huge cheers from the crowds…everything felt so natural and joyous.

Over an hour later, the parade finished and we were left wondering if it had all been a wild fantasy dream.

We then made our way to the Compostela office for pilgrims to receive our official Compostela certificate. Such a well organised numbered queueing system, a little like applying for a foreign visa, except much more joyful.

Although there was a huge influx of pilgrims in a constant flow, we were soon at the front.

Once we had our certificates safely in their tubes, we headed back out for the sunshine… but before we could, I suddenly noticed the little chapel at the exit.

We stepped inside, and I knew I had found my place to honour my brother-in-law Kenneth.

Here was a chapel with real candles.

It would have been Kenneth’s 60th birthday three days ago and I had promised his sister June that I would light him a candle. He was

Gordon’s older brother and he had died on the same day as their father’s funeral nearly 7 years ago. But every church we had passed, had either not had candles, or had electric candles, and for whatever reason hadn’t felt right.

I knew the right time would present itself. This was that time.

Hamish stayed at the back of the chapel as I went forward to light my candle. I made my donation and chose the third candle along to represent the date of his birthday.

The symbolism of the act does something to one’s heart, mind and soul…it connects all those channels in a way that feels like an ancient recipe that unlocks all hidden barriers.

Suddenly there is flow.

And release.

So many emotions flooding my being. Memories. A sense of loss, but also of the luxury of being in the present…and everything that this means to me. I embrace it all.

We made our way to the rental apartment we had booked near the Convento de San Francisco de Santiago. What a perfectly appointed little pied-à-terre this was, with that all-important commodity…a washing machine!

The entire contents of our rucksacks went in, we showered, and then we went out.

Our first port of call was the immense Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. In the queue we bumped into our US pal Don and we entered together.

What a place. We were blown away by it all…the 6 giant cherubs holding up the central altar, each the size of a JCB truck. Also the incredible double organ and the sheer amount of gold. I was seeing it again with new eyes.

I was so impressed by the whole situation that I lit another candle, this time with more of a sense of collective purpose, honour and hope.

We attempted to get into the Cathedral crypt, but you had to exit the cathedral and queue again by another door…

I realised I had lost the will… and I was hungry.

The queue was far too long and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which was at 9 this morning!

So we aborted the mission, headed out for an emergency tortilla… then met with Don for drinks at Casa das Crechas (owned by the wonderful Vítor)… before meeting Chris, Jen, Bron, Adam, lovely Czech couple and Julie for dinner at a tapas bar in the old town.

Then it was back to Casa das Crechas for nightcaps with the larger gathering of our pilgrim family, which involved me and Hamish supporting a very heavily limping Julie (both knees fairly shot) between bars.

This was our latest night out on the Camino, but we felt that we owed it to ourselves to break the cycle of the 9pm pilgrim bedtime.

Total distance 23.38km

Total ascent 403m

Total descent 437m