While we're putting these myths to rest, can we also add that it is NOT a tradition, and indeed it is illegal, to burn clothing, or worse yet shoes, at Finisterre?!
I agree 100%.
I was appalled at the line of pilgrims walking up armed with plastic bags after sunset.There are signs, graffiti and the mounds of half burnt rubbish left there to indicate that this is not a pleasant tradition.
It was one of those times that I was amazed at the patience shown by locals to visitors to their area being nothing but disrespectful in a quest for their own enlightenment.
As for the Cruz de Ferro, I can understand the urge to place a marker there. But I'm not sure I can get behind the idea of the marker being anything other than a stone. Anything else seems a little self-indulgent to me.
Why does a prayer have to be on paper? Can it not be spoken?
My own experience of the Cruz de Ferro was ruined by the reunion of a young woman and a male friend. Shouting, screaming, taking over the Cruz itself for a series of pictures, somehow made it seem less a place of contemplation and rememberance and more a place for a party.
I had carried a stone from my home to place at the Cruz. It was a symbol for my long dead father. I wanted him to be somewhere I thought he'd have liked to visit, but never got to.
When I arrived, I looked in my handlebar bag (Yes, I'm one of those! - a biker!) for the stone to discover it missing! I had fallen off the bike the previous day and everything went flying - apparently including the stone!
At first, I was devastated. I had carried it over 2000km at that stage. It had been an important part of the journey, being taken out to "experience" different places. But, between the shouting and the screaming and the inappropriate photo-taking, I realised that the place it ended up was probably more appropriate. He wasn't a destination kinda guy, the journey was the more important part. And he would have appreciated me falling off my bike in the middle of nowhere for no good reason
. When I started to laugh a little at that thought, my cracked ribs really started to hurt, so I moved on and left the Cruz to the party people.