A section of the route to Santiago de Compastella – through Lebanon province
We continue on from inn to inn: Casa Tollo to Casa Oso is 14.5 kilometer. Don’t even bother to convert to miles. It is a very long day. We get confused finding the first part of the trail; at midday, I find I am climbing an extra mountain, and by late afternoon it is a crazy traverse through a wide unmarked field where Michael and I find the muddy sections. As we descend through the apparently uninhabited village of Cosgaya, it is one more kilometer down to turn left into the front entrance of Casa Oso, “Bear House”, our third hotel, This means that the next morning after breakfast, thankfully served early at 8 am, we will be turning right to a first ascent!
After this hamlet, I’ll take a wrong turn for a few kilometers up the wrong mountain, but I see from the app how to drop down to be ahead of the others!
We were a muddied, tired, and windblown couple after a beautiful trek. (Sandy & Ellie made much better time than we did today.) Our disarray is a stark contrast to the manicured entry, the nicest one so far. In sock feet we shuffle our way to the second floor, dropping very dirty clothes in a heap in a corner before a hot shower. Yes, it is a relief that restores us; a lovely dinner, nice white wine, a soft bed with a warm cover and the soothing rush from the river pour in through an open window. I am feeling particularly grateful for first class on the trail. Our boots are returned cleaned up thanks to the attentive, but furiously busy attendant who calmly found a plastic bag to store them. (Make up your own picture of this!)
This morning’s breakfast is an enormous buffet of choices and the coffee from the worst coffee maker ever designed, ubiquitous in Europe, the Nespresso. At least thIs one actually makes some dark liquid stuff!
Off we go, daypacks laden with tap water, (safe and tasty right from the tap) picnic sandwiches of ham and cheese between large white roll. These we transfer immediately from the unnecessary gold paper bags they have just dropped the sandwiches into. This bulk doesn’t stuff well in day packs that need to carrying extra layers for sun, rain, cold and what ever blows at us. A piece of fruit is a miracle. A piece of chocolate would have been, too. It’s fine, it’s fine.
My blisters are not a topic for mealtime conversation, but while I have you here on the page, let me suggest to any hikers a new type of flexible bandaid called Nexit. Also, pack in the suitcase an extra pair of old favorite boots. I had my Ahnu’s that became a game changer. (The company was sold to TEVA but no longer the same!). No more rubbing thanks to these same old reliables that had taken me over the Torres del Paine in Patagonia, through the Rockies, around and about the Berkshires, and now these Picos de Europa. Boots and bandaids!
The paths are usually dirt roads. Narrow trails begin higher in the mountains with thin signs to mark which way is which. Hmmm. Most of the time they are helpful. Many times the historic ones are extremely weathered.
See the black flecks on the field? Goats.
Cows and sheep of all colors, goats and strong healthy horses dot the landscape. Some are near farms, visibly fenced. Others seem to be left to roam, though it is early in the season. Most stock are brought up after June 1st when their young are raised and ready.
Still iin the field in town; maybe a dozen calves with their mothers here.
New life!
Hiking – one step at a time is the cliche after 12 or 15 thousand of them. A numbing takes place. The energy is directed to the legs, the lungs. The pump system, the heart, pulses fuel through the streams and canyons of the muscles circulating oxygen where it is needed; a miraculous process. My brain just carried on relaxed, up here for the ride.
Michael in his own time and place
When legs get truly sore, the best strategy is to rest ‘em, add a sip of water, a bite of chocolate, pause for the views, take a close up pix of new plantings, pause for the expansive vista, look back to reflect. Then it’s onward like a new day is just beginning.
Thankfully, most trail of this trail is relatively stable underfoot. Hours of views of green pastures, gravel roads, abandoned villages, one with the”for sale” sign has me amused. Fun, I think to myself, I’ve found my next fixer-upper. Heck with a castle I saw in France; let’s go for a whole village in northern Spain!
Large goat on the left (looked like a yak to me!) is the billy goat, luckily very shy!
At one point, my reverie is interrupted by a large van full of birdwatchers that appear on the far side of another abandoned hamlet at a paved road access. I had not seen or noticed paved roads before. The “watchers” are trying to see birds behind the new leaves that we have watched spring forth on all the trees. 3 days ago, as we began our trek, the view was open. Amazing to be able to watch the spring leaves grow right in front of our eyes.
One of the bird watchers comes up to me to ask, “Where are the people here?” “ Well you are the first I have seen”, I reply. Their tour guide is quickly herding this one back to his flock to focus on the leaves, I mean birds. It’s true that we saw no other people on the trail for most of the 8 days. Exception: at the parador in Fuente De, where large groups of travelers had rebooked past tours at the large hotel. We found motorcyclists, a group from Great Britain, and the 4 of us!
Tomorrow, we will be in Fuente De, the fountain or spring of the De River…..one step at a time!
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