The melodic sound of bells is one of the lasting memories of my recent trip to Northern Spain. Bells from the townhall to mark the time of day, church bells to alert the devout, and the constant, distant sound that told the location of the horses, goats, sheep and golden brown cows in the high alpine – they all provided a background to the other sensory experiences in this unique and fascinating area of Spain.
Superlatives like spectacular, incredible and fantastic come to mind naturally when describing the landscape of northern Spain. Tall hills rise from the seashore and the jagged towering mountains in the National Park, the Picos de Europa pierce the sky. Golden beech, oak and walnut trees often shade parts of winding lower paths – a welcome relief from the unusually hot weather that all of Spain was experiencing in October when my partner, Tony, and I were travelling there.
Another surprising but consistent part of the alpine landscapes were the gigantic sad-eyed mountain dogs who focus on their job of protecting their sheep, goat or cow charges from predators such as wolves and suspiciously watch passing people.
The villages provide their own delights. Boxes of geraniums sit on century old windowsills and village cats (a necessity for mouse control) sun themselves in church yards. Red-tile roofs that indicate the small villages – sometimes with only several houses but still named and identified on a map – can be seen for miles perched on the side of the mountains and in the valleys when looking from a vantage point high on the mountain roads. When we saw the snow-marker poles along the roads, we wondered, ‘How do the people living here ever get out of these valleys in the winter?’
Many pilgrims walk through these rural and alpine areas using the northern coastal route before heading southwest to Santiago de Compostela, but Tony and I chose to plan day hikes and walks within easy driving or walking distance from the self-catering apartments we booked for accommodation in the countryside.
We arrived in Bilboa and joined other tourists to visit the Guggenheim museum. The museum architecture is as spectacular as any description you have read and far outshines the mainly contemporary art within. We learned that in the 20 years since the Guggenheim was built, Bilboa has transformed itself from a dirty, industrial port to a vibrant city filled with art and renewed interest in its history. Walking about in the old part of the city gave us our first taste of Spanish architecture, and sampling the artistic pintxos (the Basque name for tapas) gave us a taste of the Spanish meals to come.
Then off for a brief stay close to the fishing village of Comillas where a visit to Gaudi’s extravagant El Capricho, a seaside day walk and a visit to the Altamira cave paintings was in order. As well, the seafood “menu del dia” lured us to try the local delicacies. Eating your main meal using this menu has several advantages: it provides a lot of choices of regional dishes; it costs less; and it means you can have a lighter meal in the evening, which you can make in your accommodation kitchen.
Depending on our travel and hiking/walking plans, we would usually make breakfast and a packed lunch at our apartment or, when in towns, choose sometimes to eat lunch (“menu del dia”) or have dinner at a restaurant.
Every village, town and city in Spain closes most commercial enterprises from 2pm until 5pm and evening restaurant meals are served at the earliest beginning at 8pm – more frequently at 9pm.
Whatever the serving time, however, no trip to Spain would be complete without sampling regional foods such as paella, fabada, white asparagus, squid, stuffed peppers, octopus and a variety of fish with their various sauces and ham/pork in every meal and in every sandwich.
Beware of the highly salted nature of the food – delicious but directly related to a spike in my blood pressure upon return.
The Europa de Picos was to be the highlight of our trip but getting there verged on terrifying. The roads are at best winding and generally have hairpin turns about every 50 metres. The gorges are exceptionally deep, with the other side of the road either rock or a steep hill. They are narrow as are many of the streets in the small towns and back roads we used to arrive at historic sites or the start of walks/hikes. A small automatic car is best – though Tony managed a stick shift with skill.
Only two events in 24 days created a “We are going to die” response – and both were on corners. One was an approaching righthand-drive Range Rover in our lane, the other was a rural driver careening round a curve. Buses and trucks – and there are lots of each – always took up more than half the road meaning a constant beeping of the “too close to the wall” warning sound from our car. The roads are not ones on which to initiate conversations about family, finances or relationships!
Once there, however, the area was indeed the most amazing of all our experiences. A ride to 1,823 metres via the famous Fuente Dé cable car resulted in a 360-degree view of the tops of the highest Picos mountains piercing the morning clouds. For the rest of the day, we had sunshine as we walked the 14km path to the bottom through alpine meadows surrounded by the towering limestone mountains with late blooming flowers, past a royal hunting lodge and close to stone shepherd sheds.
Lower on the walk, we passed by trees and green pastures where more of the bell-ringing fluffy-eared golden-brown cows worked on their task of producing milk to make the delicious Spanish cheeses.
Driving to the west through more of the national park was interesting for Tony, who was a mining engineer. There was extensive – and still some existing – coal mining in this area and the remains of many headframes could be seen. In these mining areas, the attractive and compelling mountain towns with their ancient buildings, requisite stone church and red-tiled roofs were replaced by bleak soulless apartment buildings.
An interesting sight as we left the area of the park was a large lake at Riaño. Entire valleys had been flooded and eight communities relocated to create this area. The water was to provide irrigation for all the surrounding areas but with very little snow in the winter and a hot, dry fall, it was at about one quarter of its capacity.
Then back to the coast we went where the roads were of average size (a relief) and there were many more tourists, commercial towns and activities – a shock after the quietness and gentle rhythm of the country landscapes and towns.
An apartment close to Ribadeo proved to be a good transition area. It was easy to walk to local sites such as the shrimp farm created within a rock crevice by the ocean or to the local village serving superb seafood. The market in Ribadeo and the large houses built by Spaniards returning from the West Indies both provided lessons on Spanish history and life.
With fewer tourists in the autumn, a visit to the Playa de Las Catedrales (beach of the cathedrals) and a walk through the rock arches provided me with an opportunity and time to paint a picture and for Tony to get the perfect photograph.
With only 1,200 km of driving in 24 days, we had visited the Basque Country, Cantabria, Asturias and a small area of Galicia. We visited small hill villages, such as Taramundi, a town devoted primarily to the production of forged, handmade knives, and larger coastal towns, such as Llanes, and made opportunities to complete numerous scenic hikes.
Each area had its unique culture, geography and food, and we spent enough time in each region to get at least a taste, not just the flavour, of the way of life. We met gracious Spaniards, talked to fellow travellers and marveled at the fortitude of the pilgrim walkers.
We moved at our own pace and observed, touched, smelled and tasted as we explored a unique part of Spain. The harmonious bells are already calling us to return.
Aileen Stalker is a retired Occupational Therapist, avid traveller and author of Snowshoe Trails in Southwestern British Columbia, her fifth book.
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