I’ve hiked all over the world, from trekking in Chilean Patagonia to lodge-to-lodge hiking in the Japanese Alps. And, though each trail is singular in terms of personality, I’ve loved them all for the connections to nature they each offer. Yet, for me, one trail stands above all the others. Why?
- Not because it’s the most challenging. It’s not.
- Not because it’s the most unique. It’s not.
- Not because it’s peppered with the most curious geological features. It’s not.
- Not because it’s one of the longest hiking paths. It’s not.
- Not because it makes you feel like you’re standing on top of the world. It doesn’t.
- Not because it leads to profound archeological treasures, or once hidden civilizations. It doesn’t.
Yet, this is a trail that touched my soul in oh-so many ways:
- It’s a trail where there are no bad views.
- A trail that winds through low-key villages and towns that are intimately connected to the sea, presenting plenty of opportunities to enjoy fresh-off-the-boat seafood and interact with some of the fishermen.
- A trail where you may meet, at most, only a handful of other hikers each day.
- A trail where there is no shortage of undeveloped sandy beaches where you will have the place to yourself.
- A trail where a woman can hike alone without any security concerns.
- A trail where there’s no fear of an encounter with wild animals.
- A trail that opens a window into the history, culture and life of the locals and their land in a country that’s on everyone’s radar, yet in a province that doesn’t get all that much attention.
This trail that easily captured my heart is the Lighthouse Way (Camino dos Faros), stretching some 125 miles, from Malpica to Finisterre, in Galicia, a quiet province in Spain’s northwestern corner. It becomes a ribbon in many places, winding along the cliff tops, and providing picturesque vistas of lighthouses that crown many a promontory. Views of sky, sand, sea, dense green forests, and carpets of colorful blooms are what dominate the scenery for those hikers who are lucky to find themselves on this bucolic trail.
While many people may prefer their treks to be arduous, not me. I don’t enjoy slogging uphill for hours to reach a summit where I snap a few photos, only to then descend for more hours, and then press “repeat” day after day. I don’t relish toting a 15-plus-pound pack mile after mile, something that distracts me from the surrounding beauty, and restricts my normally brisk pace. I abhor hiking in a group where the sounds of conversations are more abundant than the sounds of nature, and where everyone is more or less “forced” to conform to the pace of either the fastest or slowest hiker, while the guide decides when and where we stop. Nor do I want to be one of those solo hikers who ends up making the news headlines because I’d gotten miserably lost and required search teams to extricate me. (I’m geographically challenged so that’s always a distinct possibility.) Rather, I want a hiking trail that’s easy to follow. A trail where, once I return home, I can regale everyone with tales, not because I somehow survived without incurring physical injury, but because I had enchanting experiences. For all of these reasons and more, I chose to hike the Lighthouse Way and to do so as a self-guided jaunt.
UK-based On Foot Holidays specializes in self-guided walks, arranging transport of your gear, so you trek on this and other trails that they organize with a small day pack carrying only your essentials. They also provide elaborate trip notes that include suggestions of where to sun, swim and eat along the way, as well as GPS waypoint data, something that banishes the worry of getting lost.
Rather than simply delighting in the hike itself, I desire time each day to scope out a chill coffee shop for an espresso, or a secluded patch of sand to catch some rays. Even better, I’m all about enjoying a glass of wine in the late afternoon, rather than hiking until near dinner, with barely enough time to take a shower. On Foot Holidays works with local taxi drivers who can drop you at an alternate trailhead, cutting off miles, and making that afternoon glass of wine at a tranquil seafront cafe -- as well as extended stops at beaches -- a reality.
There’s an additional plus of arriving in any of the many charming villages and towns on the route before 5PM as I did: plenty of time to explore the sights and shops along the often cobbled streets and waterfront locales. For example, Camarinas is a fishing village renowned for centuries for its bobbin lace creations that are sold (and made) in the many small storefronts. Camelle is a sleepy town where the Museo Man de Camelle is an avant-garde, open-air museum that’s chock-a-block with piles of painted pebbles and boulders, and found objects. (This was the creation and dwelling of Manfred Gnadinger, a German artist, who lived off-the-grid for decades.) Muxia, a busy tourist destination, is noted for a starkly dramatic monolith, “A Ferida (“The Wound”), that soars above a windswept stretch where the sea rages. (This monument stands as a testament to the 2002 oil spill from the Prestige, a tanker, that contaminated vast swaths of sand and sea.) Finisterre, the terminus of the Lighthouse Way, is aptly named, given that the Romans believed this wild, westernmost cape was the “end of the earth.” The attractive town itself -- it's a short walk from the picturesque lighthouse locale -- has a network of thin lanes and alleys where you can spy boats anchored in the harbor, and stroll the long waterfront promenade lined with cafes and numerous other finds.
Recently, I had a long conversation with a friend of a colleague who was considering using her vacation time to walk the Lighthouse Way (based on my recommendation) and wanted to pick my brain on the ins and outs of this trail. After answering each and every one of her many questions, she still had one concern that she voiced several times during our chat. “But, will I be bored on this hike?” My response was simple and honest: “How can you be bored with paradise?”
