ljm22

21.5 miles,  388′ elevation

Déjàvu all over again….no, no I didn’t get lost. I merely had to climb the slate pathway from Unquera to Colombres again, which I did yesterday afternoon.

“El tiro mis huesos en su camioneta?”  I met the driver, Stephan, dressed like an international spy, hands akimbo smoking a cigarette, very cosmopolitan, transporting my luggage. I tried to ask him if I could ride to Llanes in the van. He laughed and put both his hands over his heart and then pointed to his head. I believe he said he would carry me in his thoughts and heart. That’s when I said can’t you just throw my bones in the van. He responded; “Bon Camino!” Then drove off. 

Once again, I’m having difficulty uploading photos. I downloaded a couple aps to shrink my photos, but that isn’t working or I’m not shrinking them correctly. I’ll download a bunch of them to the appropriate days when I get access to a computer.

  

     

   

  

 

18? Miles,  1008′ elevation

For those of you keeping score at home, that’s right I got lost once again. This time I take responsibility for not asking where my hotel was early enough. ?Donde es Hotel  Complejo Rincon De Bustio en (Colombres)?  I waited until I arrived to Colombres to ask for the hotel with the Colombres address; makes sense to me, BUT NO!… the hotel is in the District of Colombres, which is really in Unquera, the previous town. So I trekked past it, asked and was sent back to Unquera; what should have been a 14 mile day turned into 18.

“You know how to take the reservation, you just don’t know how to adequately explain where The —- it is!”

Walking up and out of Comillas, I spent the better part of the warm, sunny morning meditating on the subtle malodorous distinction between the pungent aroma of cow pasteurs, cattle ranches, smaller cattle farms, and the milder yet ever eye watering odor of sheep ranches and sheep farms. For my money cow dung in mass quantities far outshines the lighter smell of sheep caca. Cow crap hits the nose with a sharp bitter wham, but sheep shit is softer and easier to take in large doses. Tomorrow, as I understand it, I pass many horse ranches and will thus complete the veritable trifecta of malodorous animal smells.

Unquera (in the District of Colombres) is a small town 2 miles inland on a picturesque river. Pics to follow when I figure out how to shrink them adequately or have access to a computer. 

   

   

  

  

  

  

 

13 miles,  653′ elevation

From works of Gaudi to the smaller, little, quaint coastal towns, Cantabrian beach towns one after the other today. All sleepy, like the weather, I walked in coastal mist the entire morning as the sun fought to break through but couldn’t. Few cars, few people in general, hard to imagine where people are and what they might do for a living. I passed cattle ranches, many smaller farms though saw virtually no farmers or workers of any kind. Is Cantabria on summer holiday?

San Vicente has a pleasant beach as one descends from the north, and then one walks around a harbor/bay and crosses  an old medieval bridge. The two structures worth visiting were the Church of Santa Maria de Los Angeles, an example of Gothic art in Cantabria with sepulchres from a reigning Corro family, and the best examples of Spanish Renaissance funereal sculpture. There’s a great panoramic view of the church. And the King’s Castle, which still has walls on another hill on the other side overlooking town, built as defense against Norman and Viking attacks. 

I am meeting a tech guy to hopefully figure out my photo uploading issue. 

  

    

  

  

 

18 miles, 475′ elevation

From one cobblestoned medieval town founded by the Romans slightly inland to another on the coast. Santillana had the famous Altimira Caves with Paleolithic cave art. Not a straight street, flat brick, even wall in the whole of town. Makes for walking after my pain elixir of mass quantities of red wine problematic.

Up and out of Santillana, lost twice because of no concha arrows. Met a Spanish prenatal nurse from Salamanca, who found the correct path. We actually walked the entire way together. She spoke some English, more than my Spanish, and she attempted to help me learn more Spanish. She grew frustrated.

Second time she has walked Camino Norte. Did from Irunn to Santillana last year, and today was her first day and she’ll go nine days. She hopes to finish it next summer. She lost her husband of 25 years to cancer last year.

We parted as we descended into Comillas Bay. I headed straight to the beach to swim, float, stretch my way to relaxation.

   

  

    

24 miles, 475′ elevation

Yesterday, I rested in Santander; perhaps my favorite town yet; history, culture, food/wine, bays and bays of beaches. I checked out the Palace, which was turned into a university high atop a beautiful peninsula. It houses three basic ships that sailed at the turn of the century to Australia and then Mexico. It took them nine months just to reach Australia. Then I ran(and it actually felt good)- walked to the Lighthouse on a distant peninsula five bay, beaches away. It had a most impressive golf course that proudly boasted; “Always the Home Course of Seve Ballesteros!” They had his bust and course record of 63!!! Seve was born and raised in a nearby suburb and is still remembered godlike.

Read and swam the rest of the afternoon. Did tapas dinner on the water and found out about midnight being the Festival de San Juan, highlighted with a massive mountain of dried hay on one beach burned and then fireworks. The two beaches nearby the fireworks were filled as midnight neared, moreso than even during the day. Drinking, partying Spanish of all ages gathered to celebrate. I watched them from my hotel window.

Today my walk was made possible by a cast of characters that joined me at points along the way. First two Spanish woman, Carolin and Josephena, who walked incredibly slow but wished to talk. They were carrying everything they owned on their backs. Very pious and delightfull people. 

Then, I must have walked with Jean the farthest; a retired Frenchman that had walked from his hometown in France above Irunn. His English was very good. A very sad and sentimental story his. He lost his son 5 years ago in a car accident driving home from university for Christmas break. His Son, Paola, desired to walk to Santiago de Compostela when he graduated in May. He never made it, so Jean has walked a “way” in his honor every one of the last 5 summers. He did not pass his story on with a heavy heart. He claimed Paola walked with him and he never felt more peace then when walking. I almost cried at his explanation.  He asked if I had seen the film, “The Way”?  I said I had, and he said; “It’s true! Art does mirror Life!”

I caught up with  a group of 4 piligrenos in Torrelavega. Nicky and Steve, a young couple, both elementary teachers from Dallas. I asked them if “book burning” were mandated by the Texas School Districts. Neither thought my comment funny. The other duo were two woman from a German town outside of Munich. Lesbians.“not that there’s anything wrong with that,” mind you. They also spoke English well and thought my book burning comment hilarious.  

 

23 miles, 280′ elevation

Last night I dinned among a gaggle of UK pensioners, 50 odd of them, 80 and older, I’d say. I felt youthful! I kept looking for Paul’s dad, Stan and his wife. They were not with this group. After eating the tour had a middle aged one person female band play oldies and big band numbers. It was hilarious! She obviously didn’t speak English. Her final song went something like this: “I got no kid from champion! Meer Alhol does not like me at all, But I got a kid outta of you!”

There are four possible “Ways” to arrive at Santander from Santona. I opted to hang with a Canadian couple, (Margaret & Charlie) I had met a couple of towns earlier, Castro Urdiales, I believe. They read, heard, studied that the combination was the most scenic and not as difficult way. Who knows?

If yesterday was a walk on the beach, this one was bay to bay to big bay and walking on water. “I don’t always drink beer,  but when I do, I certainly don’t drink San Miquel!”  Margaret said I remind her of “The most interesting man in the world” commercial guy. She said “that’s a good thing!” I don’t think so. Hopefully it’s just the beard. 

   

  

12 miles, 375′ elevation

“?Conoces algun buen restaurante? ?Cual es la especialidad de la restaurante?  Hablo un poco de espanol. ?Puede recommendar pintxos? Quisiera un cafe con leche.  ?Donde estan los servios?”

Today was a “walk on the beach” both figuratively and literally. Up and out of Liendo through a national forest and then down, down, down to Laredo, a beach town that boasts the most beautiful and longest beach in Cantabria. Roughly 4 miles long, La Salve beach is a veritable hive of activity. It is Sunday so shops are closed but beaches, bars, and restaurants are busy and families gather together in the plazas to eat, drink and socialize.

Things miraculous: I have guessed right each day with which shoes to wear…boots and I’ve been on rough trails and my hokas and I have had hard paved surfaces.( I’m probably jinxing myself.) How in the “wide world of sports” does my luggage manage to be in the room before I arrive? I’ve stayed in some remote places and I’ve never seen anyone pick the luggage up? Bizarro! Definitely the best decision I made, having them transport baggage. Watching pilgrims lug 50 lb backpacks does not look enticing. As I pass them I feel slightly guilty…not!

Last observation today: the Spanish are an elegant, generous, warm people, and I hate to even think it, but maybe even warmer and friendlier than Italians. Everyone I’ve encountered has gone way out of their way to understand my piss-poor Spanish and give me directions, or help me order correctly or even ask if I am ok!?

Pics from today’s walk:

   

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 

21.7 miles, 350 feet elevation

“I’m Walking Here! I’m WALKING HERE!”   A very long and sometimes dangerous trek today. Most of it was on pavement and a couple miles, at least, were on a busy road with little soft shoulder and cars and trucks whizzing past.

Before I forget,  local pintxos in Castro Urdiales were unreal! They specialized in mushroom, which had all sorts of chopped veggies and garlic mixed with the shrooms on a piece of toasted French bread. The other two were octopus and anchovies. I couldn’t tell what they were mixed with but they were absolutely incredible! 

Oh, I might as well confess: in my fatigued state of unusual  delirium, at least I pray it’s due to that, last evenIng at roughly 3:30 am I dove out of bed to avoid a sword wielding assassin. I had become the swashbuckling main character from the book I’m reading. I had become Arturo Perez-Reverte’s Captain Alatriste, who had previously saved two mysterious night traveling strangers, who as it turns out are none other than The Marquis of Buckingham and Charles, Prince of Wales; [well of course they are] the very own future King to England, Scotland and Ireland. The political twists and turns got me too involved.

I must have woken everyone in the small hotel. I can’t imagine the racket I caused. Thankfully, I didn’t break a lamp or anything. And the sniper-assassin was unsuccessful!  I’m becoming like Cervantes’ character, Don Quixote, fighting imaginary windmills. Pictures are from a cool beach I hiked down to after 20 miles or so on pavement. I swam briefly. The next shots are of the 18 century hotel in Liendo.

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 

17 miles, 1008 feet elevation

“Morons. I’ve got Morons on my team. No one is going to rob us going down the mountain. We’ve got no money going down the mountain. We only need to worry when we’re coming back!”  A new theme emerges, I climb up every day out of these towns and descend into the next one and at the end of a day’s walk.

Still in my second state: Guipuzcoa (San Sebastian, Getaria & Deba), then Vizcaya (Markina,Gernika, Lezama, Bilbao, Portugalete & now CastroUrdiales.)

Leaving Portugalete I took 4 city blocks of escalators moving up the hill. The best climbing I’ve done yet. Then a series of 1000 stairs and this followed by 2 miles on a paved bike and walk way.  Then, I climbed a peninsula to rock hop down to a little surfer beach Playa de la Arena. The second half of the day I worked my way up and down along the coastal grass pathways. The sun attempted to break through the coastal mist but failed. The final descent into Castro Urdiales would have been breathe taking if not for mist and the low level clouds clinging  to the town. 

  

   

      

   

  

  

 

12 miles,  450 feet elevation

The first half of the walk today was through fairly ugly industrial towns. The initial slogging straight up and out of Bilbao was unamusing. Not a difficult day in retrospect; especially after all the sleep and down time in Bilbao. It stopped dripping down, misting on me, once I viewed the coast and the quaint town of Sestao. Portugalete is built on the side of a hill and descends to the water front, and a tall walk bridge connects it to a smaller beach town named Getxo. I hope I can upload the pictures? Took a gondola across the estuary of the Nervion from Portugalete to Getxo under “the oldest transport bridge in the world” as their claim reads.

It’s great being back on the ocean! Swimming is the best therapy for the walking. I swam from a crowded beach in Getxo. Locals wade and splash about but I haven’t seen anyone actually swim. Hope there isn’t something I don’t know about the water!?