An early, eager start, even if the welcome mat is not laid out everywhere:

It’s Wilbur and his Maaaa-maaaa! Oh, Wilbur, you have taken a vacation in Spain! How handsome you look! Guess what? Wilbur can count to dos! “¡U….no, d-o-o-o-os!”

Here is Wilbur doing his special dance:

Whoa! Glad I am not on wheels!

Yes, up these stairs:

See how alert one has to be? That sign is hardly screaming “veer to the right here,” is it?

You probably think I take a picture of every cow I see. I do, but you don’t get to see them all:

This challah look-alike is a light, airy, sweet bread:

Right, I’ll go a different way:

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Two full days here, one more than necessary, but now, well fueled with pastries and too much ice cream, I am ready for the Primitivo.

Apparently the good people of Oviedo think a lot. Some of the thinkers did not photograph well, but this lady, may be wondering how to cook all those fish for dinner:

This fisher fellow may be wondering the same thing:

Or maybe they are thinking about something else entirely!

Delighted by the street statuary (more to come), I moved on the the Museo de Belles Artes. The do know how to do museums in Spain. My favorite painting was of Adam and Eve. Do you love that she is wearing high heals and that he has a whole sack of apples behind his back, or could the tree be more laden?

Unintended selfie through the eyes of a photograph:

Back to the street. We love you, Bessie, we do!

The highlight of my stay in Oviedo was attending Shabbat services. At 6:00 p.m., Friday night,  I waited at an umarked,  small building waiting for someone belonging to the kahal to show up, and, indeed, someone did. Upstairs were eight members of the congregation and soon three other visitantes arrived: Frank, a lawyer from North Carolina, and two young women, Eden and Tamar from Israel, all of whom were walking the Camino. Between the Hebrew and the Spanish and the Spanish transliteration, it was quite a race to follow along, but what a joyous, beautifully sung service. The melodies were essentially Ashkenazic, which surprised me, and one woman gave, in Spanish of course, a most intelligent, and thoughtful d’var Torah. What a thrill to be part of this tiny group. Then, after about a two hour service, seemingly from out of nowhere, emerged a lavish kiddush. Actually, we lucked out because it was leftovers from Rosh Hashanah. As Frank noted, this was one time no one had to ask if the tortilla (essentially an egg and potato dish, cousin to quiche) had any ham in it!

The other visitors started the Camino Primitivo today, Saturday, but my starting day is tomorrow. So I went to services again in the morning. Only a half dozen souls, but fortunately they disregard the minyan requirement, so all went on as usual.  I was sorry to say good bye to my “lantzmen.”

Just as I was leaving,  the bagpipers (gaitia players) and drummers were beginning outside in the square!

After a while, they took the show on the road:

Many shops selling all manner of delicious things to eat. The sausage did smell good:

Speaking of food, I was hunting and gathering today and, inter alia, was seeking out some walnuts. At the local Corte Ingles (a HUGE department store), I did find two possibilities. One batch was imported from Chile, the other claimed origin in Moldvia! I swear! Could these possibly be pre-World War I vintage? Probably not, but I opted for the Chilean nuts, which turned out to be spectacularly good!

In the park was a large pond:

No one guessed John Adams, but you won’t have trouble recognizing Woody!!

Oh, NO! 🔥💥😖💦⚡️I can’t believe I forgot my clothes!!

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Someone has had a complete makeover and gained a little weight:

After bidding this hostlery adieu, I joined my bag for the ride to Gijon, pronounced as if with two chets, and if you don’t know Hebrew, just cough out two syllables and it will be fine.  In Gijon I am staying at the Hotel Marquez de San Esteban.  Doesn’t that sound elegant?  But it isn’t.  It is perfectly adequte—though I can do the four flights of stairs faster than the elevator— and well located.

My first excursion was to the Museum of the Asturian People.  The walk there was along the seaside promenade.  It was gorgeous.  Museuems of everyday life are always fun, but when YOUR OWN life is old enough to be museum-ized, it is a bit of a shock.

See that meat grinder?  I used to use one just like that to make chopped liver:

No, I do not go back this far:

Even Scarlet O’Hara couldn”t fit into this:

Right near by, was the Gaita (bagpipe) museum.  One instrument as made to look like a goat:

And one, a dress:

The outdoor displays were very good, even though I have seen a number of these structures in real life.  Close up you can always see more:

And you can go inside to marvel at what people cando with sticks and mud.  It is impressive:

I was trying to remove this picture, but the app wouldn’t let me.  I had intended to put Alex to thte test here, only now I am not quite sure just who this dude is:

How could one not walk along Gijon’s gorgeous beach?

I will cease complaining about BlogPress, both its iPad and on-line versions except to tell everyone out there who might be thinking about it, FIND ANOTHER WAY! It is the clunkiest app ever. You would all probably use Facebook, but I can’t deal with that for other reasons.

The hotel in Colunga was modest, to say the least, and I would not have minded except that the walls were so thin that in the wee hours I was awakened by my neighbours who were, shall we say, enjoying themselves mightily.

A big surprise awaited as I headed out, hopefully towards Villaviciosa, the weather had changed dramtatically. It was cold! Oh joy! I get to use my whole other wardrobe. Switching from the lightweight, 3/4 Northface pants to the sturdier Mountain Hardware hiking pants will be great because the former have only one pocket for my too many papers, whereas the latter have more pockets to allow for categorization of maps and instructions from “most likely useful” (left leg pocket) to “not likely useful” (right side pocket, leaving the right leg pocket for “undecided usefulness.” I feel better already! Also, I have not yet needed my rather ugly-colored Pertex wind jacket, a replacement for the pretty-colored Pertex wind jacket that I lost last year and for which I mourned excessively.

The stretch from Colunga to Villaviciosa was, for me, the last stage of the Camino Norte, The first two-thirds of which was like walking through the pages of a picture book. The landscape was stunningly beautiful: deep valleys, graceful rises, mountains in the background, animals grazing, the mist evaporating. With little exception, one day has been a greater feast for the eyes and ears than the previous.

Leaving Colunga one sees early deliveries on door handles:

Didn’t check to see if it works:

See this marker?

In case I have not pointed it out already, on all of the Caminos the end of the shell where the lines come out point to the direction one is supposed to walk, but in Asturias, the end where the lines converge points the way. It is so like Schlemiel going to Warsaw. One needs one’s wits about one at all times.

Here, too, a kid needs a hoop:

A little extra storage space is always useful:

I got to see a lot of the A 8 today. From underneath:

From above:

From on top:

Tomorrow, if I were doing things by the book, I would be walking 32K to Gijon, but I am not. Instead I ride with my luggage and sightsee. Feeling only mildly guilty.

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And today was no exception. Not a shabby beginning to a walk, wouldn’t you agree?

(Does Yale Crew practice here?)

An exterior mural on a rural dwelling:

And another:

One of those, “I don’t know why I am taking a picture of this, but I just love it:”

Pleasant sounds: birds, cow bells, roosters, waves, rivulets, chatter, occasional singing, pigs grunting, cows bellowing, sheep bleating. Sounds not so pleasant: dogs barking, lots of dogs barking, traffic.

I had not expected the deluge yesterday and the weather report predicted rain again today, albeit not so heavy. I was prepared….rain pants, gaiters (some paths were reputed to be very muddy), maps in the waterproof case, everything buried in one Sea to Summit bag or another. Not a drop fell.

The rain from yesterday allowed for footprints in the sand where others did tread earlier in the morning:

One does want to be a good citizen, and yes, of course I would have closed the gate as asked:

had only there been one.

All rivers flow to the sea:

Sometimes there are mixed markings. At one such junction while I was deliberating, knowing that whatever I decided I was likely to be wrong, I did see a person heading up the way I was not going to go. I lost not a second but ran in pursuit to ask about the route. Who should this trailblazer be? Why Ingunn (now without her daughter who already has flown off to India in search of other adventures). We continue on together, stopping for lunch beside this tiny bridge:

I stay in Colunga and we say good bye as Ingunn heads off to the next albergue. I have enjoyed knowing her; she has been one of the delights of the walk.

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Ohmygod, did it rain, and it was a 31K walk, which clocked in at a few steps short of 36K. Breakfast was at 9:00, absurd on such a long day, so we left at 7:00 a.m., in the dark.  Don, however, had gone out last night during which excursion he found a cafeteria that was “open at 6:00 a.m.” and he also discovered the way out of town.  No cafeteria in the parts of Spain I have been in opens at 6:00 and this one did not either, nor did it open at 7:00.  So coffeeless, we headed out to the next town, which also was asleep close to 8:00.

Not long after this disappointment, it started to rain.  While I was donning my gear, Don took off and disappeared.  It started to rain hard.  One keeps going.  The scenery was gorgeous, mind you, but a hot drink would have been nice.  It started to POUR!  Finally, at 11:00 a.m., hungry and needing caffeine, I stumbled upon a local hangout for very old men where two cafes con leche and two tostadas con mantequilla y marmelade later and the use of the aseos, me animaron (got me up and going).

The route was described as being a 2 for waymarking, and I forget what for difficulty.  Who wrote this book!  The waymarking was sparse and faded, non existent in crucial spots, and the route was tricky with all manner of varients. The rain was relentless, poundingly heavy at times, as in it could not have been heavier.  The paths were difficult to navigate and by the time I arrived in Ribadesella, the streets were rivers.  I indulge not in hyperbole here.  Never have I walked through city streets with water almost 2 inches high.

I find a bakery and buy a delicious, crusty loaf and a hazlenut tart.  The salesgirl wraps up the purchases in an extra plastic bag.  Sopping wet, I arrive at my hotel, a most elegant, ornate edifice.

 I, however, am sent across the street to the annex. The annex is not gracious or elegant but the room is modern and very large.  It will more than do since there is ample room to spread out all the wet things.

Speaking of wet, which I have not stopped doing becasue it is so very very today, I decided before shedding my rain gear, I would go to the local supermercado to buy a tomato, fruit and some fresh butter to round out the dinner menu.  The supermercado was taking a siesta, so that plan was dashed.

Back to the room.  A tub!  Yes!  But there is no plug!  An inverted drinking glass serves and a hot bath feels great.  There is also a hair dryer.  Oh joy!  I can dry the crevices and pockets of my pack.  Oh no!  I cannot because the dryer does not work.  Let’s hope the air suffices.

I ask el señor of the hotel management about the way out of town tomorrow.  He is so wrong!  But with the help of my four batches of instructions in two languages and Google Maps, I figure it out.

My hair looks so bad it isn’t funny!

Moving right along:

On the way from Santillana del Mar to Comillas, I met Don, a dentist, from Seattle:

We visited the Capricho de Gaudì in Comillas. The home of a wealthy patron, and one of Gaudí’s early commissions, it was joyously and fabulously decorative:

Believe it or not, this chair was very comfortable:

One of many painted tiles:

Señor Gaudì, estoy aquí, pensando contigo:

Entrance to a university, would you believe:

The walking has been gorgeous, the weather perfect. Just look:

and at this, too:

Having a friend to walk with, enhances the pleasure. We are getting into the Spanish rhythm, which means having lunch at 3:00 at a real restaurant! We shared this turbot yesterday. (No, I did not eat the shrimp!) It was delicious:

The town of San Vicente boasts a long Roman Bridge, an impressive sight from different angles in different lights:

The day’s walk was short, maybe 17K before the boots came off, but that gave us the time to sightsee and that we did. It was really fun. Dinner was bread, butter, tomatoes, onion, and cucumber on the patio outside our hotel. Life is good!

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Santillana is a quaint town, medieval, they say and a tourist haven.  Almost every building is now a shop selling local cheeses and pastries, etc., or a hotel.   But there are a few museums.  First stop was this one.

A museum devoted to the various, imaginative, utterly sickening methods of torture used by the inquisition.  There were models of the devices, pictures, and explanations of how the many too many tortures were administered.

Not even one or two?

No matter what, you ended up thusly (but don’t we all)?

I deleted all the torture photographs.  But, hey, look who endorses the museum!

The town well once, or a Mikvah?

Those are not bagels for sale, they are stones supporting a roof:

The ram is a popular sculpture subject in this town.  What its significance is, I do not know:

Plum tuckered out from the heat:

 It was a very welcome change to go to the museum across town (that means three streets away) to see where human effort was put to making things for useful purposes like farming and such:

And some nifty paw-steppers:

Unless it was this way and I mixed up the photos!

No stopping today para nada but Bessie I could not resist:

After 20+ K there was a choice, take the highway and save “5 K” or take the coastal route.  This is like asking someone, “Would you like to walk for a couple of hours on I 91 or would you like to spend the afternoon walking along Big Sur?”  The  route was gorgeous.  High above a series of one stunning beach after another, some with impressive rock formations.  It was dazzling.

The distance turned out to be 36+ kilometers (with three more to get to the hotel) and that is a lot even in miles, as in just under 25.  The first time ever, I ran out of water, but fortunately not until near the end.  Lots of snack food helped.  I heartily thank the person who told me about Kind Bars.  I thought it was Suzie, but she refuses to take the credit.  Anyone who likes nuts will love these!  FYI Nica’s sells them, though not all the varieties.

The final segment, about a kilometer or so, was along this wonderful beach….part sand, mostly sand but peppered with great rock formations:

 Then there was a boat to Santander.  Of course, I was a wreck worrying that the boat would not be running, but of course it was, every half hour, and it actually makes two stops!

Santander is a beautiful city with an impressive waterfront. Many many gorgeous sail boats.  What a thrill to see all this:

Even though a rest day in Bilbao was not long ago, I did not feel put upon having one today!  I did not even set the alarm!  The walk to the hotel yesterday would not have been so bad had someone whom I asked for directions not sent me through the most godawful tunnel, much longer than the one on the Wilbur Cross between Woodbridge and New Haven, but once you are in it, you have no choice but to keep going.  It added an unnecessary 1 1/2 K to an already long enough day.

This is one of those photos you know you took for a reason, then look at it and can’t remember why:

It was because of that little duck, sitting alone on the wall, away from all its friends who were swimming in the water.

This photo is up for a caption contest:

A house too big to fit into a photo is a house big enough for a king:

Alex and Mary, your guesses get stars!  Alex: Don Alfonso Steering, the man who invented the steering wheel

Mary, play equipment for children.

The combination = John Adams exercising at an exercise station in the park, which must be where the Don got his brilliant, futuristic idea.

Next challenge.  ¿Qué es esto?

                                                                                                                     
Writing the blog on this trip is so difficult, I don’t know why I persist.  To be able to read it later, I suppose.  No matter what method I try, app, on line, save, edit, entries and photos disappear.  There has to be a better way.  

I love the morning:

Apparently, everyone is doing it:

View:

Reminiscent of Stony Creek:

This was ond fantastic hotel in little Liendo, and the manager was so nice that she let me make make my own breakfast.  Since the next morning was a Sunday, they don’t serve before 9:00 a.m., and who can wait until then to set out, missing those fresh hours before it gets hot?  I was given instructions on how to use the coffee machine, the microwave, how to lock the inner door and the outer gate and to depost my key in el buzon (the mailbox).  Truth be told, I didn’t understand it all, but, gracias a dios, enough to manage and not blow anything up:

A sweet sight on the way:

Looking out over the beach, described as “a scramble,” actually a difficult ascent of sand a rocks, fortunately made a little easier by a heavy rain during the night:

It is so nice when you meet someone, who wants to chat.  This is Hans from, yes, as he is letting us know, Hamburg.

And this is me on the boat from where ever it is to Santaña:

I had a short day today, 17 K, but Hans from Hamburg…he does want one to remember that… had another 17 K to go.  I make up the distance tomorrow:

A maritime sculpture

Sandpipers?  Oh they were so cute runnning about pecking their little beaks in the sand.  One does wonder what tasty morsels they find there:

The beach was gorgeous and H U G E.  But I was a wreck worrying about the next day, which was going to be long and I was quite confident I would not meet anyone on the way, which turned out to be the case.  And there was very loud music playing late.  A night for a sleeping aid!