21.7 miles, 1,230′ elevation
The day began strangely in Cudillero. The matron of the old pension I stayed in prepared a special breakfast for me because I’m a peregrino on the “Camino”. She was a sweet old lady, and I’m talking 90+! She made her “especial deseuyuo crepes”. But she made me 5 of them with all sorts of jellies and jams! “Muy Delgado!” She kept saying. ” Too skinny? Or too thin!? No se? I don’t know?
Anyway, I asked her “?Cuantos kilometers a la Ballota, Cudillero?” She put her right hand to her ear and leaned toward me. I repeated in my best pronunciation louder. I wanted to know how many kilometers to my next stop. Ballota, in the district of Cudillero. Because I was in the town of Cudillero as I spoke. Perhaps it was my Spanish, maybe it was her hearing; in all likelihood it was the combination.
She responded; “Cudillero’s calamares son lo meyor!” Basically, she told me that Cudillero had far superior Calamares and many more of them. Then, she went on to explain all the different ways she could prepare them. Once again lost in the lingo, I simply nodded.
This walk fooled me. I got baited into an awesome bay beach early in the day and it took me forever to regroup and hike out. The swim perhaps not worth it in retrospect.
Walked with a French lady Camile, who was meeting her daughter at Novellana. Difficult conversation. Then I briefly walked with Geo and Rachel, an Italian couple I’d seen a couple times before carrying the weight of the world on their backs. They’re in their early 70s and amble, barely pulling their feet off the ground. It’s a shuffle of sorts and slow isn’t the right word, “painful” might be. The last time I saw them, Rachel was praying the rosary aloud.
ljm22 