On the 13th November 2002, during one of the ferocious storms for which this coastline is known, a single-hulled oil tanker called the Prestige, split in two spilling huge quantities of the 77,000 tons of heavy fuel oil it was carrying. In the corrupt world of international shipping, the Prestige was owned by a Greek company operating under a Bahamian flag. Many claim the ship wasn’t seaworthy. It is the worst environmental disaster in Spanish history, polluting 2,300km of coastline.
The ship drifted to within 6km of the Galician coast. A Spanish captain dropped on board the damaged ship requested to bring it into port for repair. The Spanish government refused and threatened to send the navy to carry out its orders. So started a political pass-the-parcel fiasco between the French, Portuguese and Spanish governments, which all refused to allow the Prestige to dock.
The boat sailed north towards French waters before being forced south to Portuguese waters, and finally under the threat of military action, it sailed 250km out to sea. All the while spilling thousands of tons of oil that could have been prevented. No one has ever been held accountable for the disaster. To mark this great injustice, a massive 11 metre high, 400 ton stone monolith, A Ferida, has been erected at the end of the peninsular.
Cleaved in two like it has been struck by lightning, its name means The Wound. It is an impressive reminder of this man made disaster. The stones stand at exactly the 0.0km marker of the Camino de Santiago, because this is also the spot at which it is claimed that the Virgin Mary met with Santiago, or St. James. The nearby 12th century Sanctuary of Santa María de la Barca marks this superstition.
Legend would have it that a stone boat brought the wooden statue of Nosa Señora da Barca ashore here. It is this that is housed in the Sanctuary. The stone boat superstition comes from Celtic religious traditions, the Catholic church simply absorbed it into their traditions when they were Christianising this bit of Spain. Apart from some fun models of boats hanging from the walls, I felt like I’d seen a thousand similar churches.
There is no denying the impact of the atmospheric location though. The Sanctuary sits above the rocky coastline and overlooks the tumultuous Atlantic Ocean. Sunsets are said to be spectacular, but that requires the sun and it was not forthcoming. In front of the church is a very famous rock, the Pedra dos Abalar, a rocking stone said to be able to cure all manner of ailments and determine innocence or guilt.
I couldn’t actually find the rock to check whether Liverpool were going to win the Premier League, I’m just going to assume it’s a ‘yes’. Nearby, is a track that leads up to a rocky outcrop, Monte Corpiño, with great 360º vistas over Muxia and the surrounding area. It is absolutely gorgeous. On a sunny summer’s day, I think I would move to Muxia in a heartbeat. Winter might send me home again.
Walking back into town along a different path, we passed the stone walls of farmers fields running down to the sea. Most seemed to be abandoned, farming here must be a very tricky undertaking. A track led through the fields and brought us to A Pedriña, an area of wooden trellises that has been used for drying conger eels for centuries. There were no eels the day we were there, but we were greeted by a couple of expectant dogs.
As we headed from here to the town beach, Praia Da Cruz, the clouds started to roll in and obliterate the sun. It was still warm and we had a short walk around the coast then headed back to town for our final meal before driving south. We ate delicious Galician clams, almejas a la marinera, and scallops accompanied by local wines. A perfect end to our Muxia visit.
