BEGINNINGS AND ENDINGS

I headed down to the bus station first thing in the morning. I was eager to leave Cantabria, and hoped that Asturias would give me a better perspective. I wandered down the steep hill after breakfast to the empty bus station on the waterfront. Pretty soon, I was joined by, of all people, the hearty, well-equipped, outdoorsy Frenchmen. They, like me, were taking the bus to Unquera. Wonders never cease.

Ramiro appeared too, but only to check the bus schedule. His Camino was over. "I have seen enough", he declaimed. No goodbyes were said; something about his manner made me think he might change his mind. But I didn't see him again and now that open ending makes me a little sad. I often wonder, especially in light of the turmoil in North Africa and the Middle East, if he will ever get the chance to go on his big adventure.

In Unquera, I stopped for a corbata, a pastry for which the area is famous.



I ate it at this very counter in the Restaurante Royale, "la casa de las corbatas"!


Rodrigo, a man from the albergue the night before, came in to the cafe as I was sitting there. He'd already walked the 10km along the "carreterra muy peligrosa". He actually deserved his corbata.

In the local farmacia, I found a knee brace to match the one I had bought in Gernika. I felt set up to start the long stage to Llanes. That new perspective was starting to take hold!



I crossed the bridge into Asturias and started to climb. The hill out of town went steadily up the edge of the river valley for a couple of kilometres. It was called, (as they often seem to be), la Peña; the penalty. Well named!



If the climb was the penalty, the view from the top was the reward, All about were green wooded hills and pastures, and in the distance the Picos de Europa; to the southwest I could see the beautiful Indiano mansion of la Quinta Guadalupe, painted blue. With its signature palm trees, it looked for all the world like a tropical mirage. Here was housed an archive devoted to the records of these New World adventurers and entrepreneurs.

In Colombres, Rodrigo caught up with me as I was taking pictures of some leftover Roman stuff which had been cemented into a little alcove.




Why are you photographing THAT?, he wanted to know. I explained that we didn't get to see a lot of Roman stuff in Canada. He disputed that it was Roman, and technically speaking, he could have been right, but it sure felt Roman to me. I wasn't feeling disputacious though, so I stopped talking.



The next nine kilometres were along the side of the A8, the very road I'd avoided by taking the bus to Unquera. If I'd known that Id be walking along that road at all, I probably would have taken the bus as far as Pendueles, and just walked the last 17km. But I didn't, and so I shared the road with the cars, and Rodrigo, whom I met again as he was coming out of a restaurant near La Franca. That man was a walking and talking machine. He set a blistering pace, and if I lagged behind, he would wait courteously, but insistently, for me. He was highly educated and spoke very good English. Unfortunately, he was so serious and without humour (he never once smiled in the fifteen kilometres we walked together), that it was a rather grim experience. He kept us cracking along though, I'll give him that.



Once we got to Pendueles, the Camino left the road, and followed the coast along a gravel sendero. It was more than a footpath and less than a road, and it took us through wonderful rough pastures next to the sea, where I saw my second breed of cow,the Asturian Mountain Cattle.







Finally, when we came to the first houses in Andrin, around 4pm, I simply had to stop to refuel. Rodrigo had had his meal at 1.30 and felt that I should not eat as late as 4 pm, but I desperately needed something more than a corbata to go on with. After all, there were still 9km left to go at that point. I insisted on my Menu del Dia. In that case, Rodrigo said he would have a coffee and wait for me. I insisted that I didn't want to hold him back, and he should go on. Grudgingly, he did, striding off at the same grueling pace as he'd been walking all day. In my journal that night, I wrote, only half-joking, that he was probably halfway to Ribadesella by now.

Now that the pressure was off, I enjoyed my dinner of espaghettis, stew, and ice cream with lots of coke and coffee, and picked up my pack, a little unwillingly, for the final stretch to Llanes.