Day 32 & 33

It is interesting how in a moment the worst evening can turn into one of the best nights and how you can turn from civilized into savage in the course of half a day.
On Saturday I took a train from Léon to Gijon and after the last train experience where C. had to pass through a scanner on a conveyor belt and the train conductor shouted at me for 10 minutes, first outside and then inside the train because I hadn’t taken off the wheels before entering, I was prepared this time. I wore the full suit and a clean shirt to look respectable, I had packed everything hanging from C. neatly away, I had reserved for myself and a bike and made sure I had plenty of time. It went smoothly.

The train drove through impressive mountain ranges I could not have passed with a walking cart in my wildest dreams, at some point the sun disappeared and for a while there was only fog. The weather would be different from now on, no more scorching heat on wide open plains.

I walked through the centre of Gijon, then out of the city, following the Camino del Norte. Shiny metal shells, the symbol of the Camino, led the way on the pavement. Outside Gijon it was mainly heavy industry for a long time, enormous factories, run down houses, noisy roads. I had to get through it to find a good place to sleep, somewhere in a more green and quiet area. The trail was steep at times, the sky remained grey but it was hot, in no time I was soaked in sweat. It was long after 7 when I finally reached the forest, big mushrooms growing on tree stumps (chicken of the woods! I wouldn’t be cooking though so I let it be) made it clear the climate was different here. The forest was dense, eucalyptus trees and gians ferns, at some point I passed a house where a strong scent made me suspect there was a little cannabis field somewhere hidden between the eucalyptus trees. I wanted to find a cozy spot before coming out of the forest where there would be villages again and when I found an overgrown apple orchard just before arriving in the first settlement it seemed to be the perfect spot. I landed somehwere in the middle, invisible from the road and rested for a bit, getting used to the place, the sounds, the atmosphere. It was peaceful, some dogs barking and people talking in the far distance, birds whistling, all perfect. The thought crossed my mind that wild boar surely like apples but I ignored it, I was too tired to move on anyway.
Of course I should have listened to my intuition. Just minutes after I had prepared my bed (I don’t use my tent when it is warm enough) I heard some big animals enjoying their apples and one came very close, I think it was a young male boar. Whatever I did, he kept coming back and it was clear I was in their territory and sleeping here was not a good idea. So I packed everything up again, chasing him away inbetween stuffing my things in the trolley as quick as I could in the dark.
Back on the road I paused for a few minutes. What next? Worst case I would find a spot to sit down and stay awake until the first daylight, walking through the night didn’t seem a good idea since after the villages the trail stayed close to the highway. And so I went on my way again, to find an abandoned house just after the first bend in the road. It was close to some other houses, oI tried to go around the back on a hardly visible trail, too small for C. apparently. The cart tumbled over and so did I, thinking while falling “I hope this will end well”.
It must have been one of my worst moments in this walk, lying on the ground in the dark, covered by C., my clothes still wet from sweating, staying still to feel if any part of the body was seriously injured. My knee was hurting but the rest seemed to be fine. I managed to disconnect C. from the belt, walked around the back of the house, first saw a very dirty bathroom through a wide open window and considered crashing there on the floor or in the bathtub and then found the most perfect place, a barn connected to the house with what seemed to be some old hay bales inside. I couldn’t see what was in the dark part of the barn, later when I explored in the dark I felt there were more hay bales there, covered in dust and spider webs.
I just sat in the entrance for a long time, looking at the field where a cat moved around and the sky, that now and then turned red for some reason. Forest fires, I thought for a moment, but it seemed to be more consistent with fireworks somewhere far away. It gave the whole setting an apocalyptic touch.
I was dirty, bruised, dead tired but also very content to be in a peaceful place in the end and somehow the huge round hay bales felt like good company for the night, as if they were friendly sleeping giants.
It was a good night. I woke up around 8, got out of the barn unseen and walked through the tiny village, washed my face at the fountain next to the church and inspected the little book exchange house that was installed there. The first pilgrims passed, I followed in their steps. After the green valley the highways started and with them the factories. In a roadside bar on an extremely unattractive and noisy site I drank one of the best coffees I had in my life and it wasn’t because the coffee was so amazing. The woman who served me the coffee smiled when I told her. Or maybe it was because of the tip I left.
The day was mainly cloudy and if I would have been walking for the beautiful scenery I would have been disappointed. There was another city coming up, Aviles, which was supposed to have a beautiful historic centre but what I saw first when I approached were some enormous oddly shaped white buildings, the Oscar Niemeyer Centre. Aviles was indeed very pretty but also full of people enjoying the Sunday. The sun came out, I thought about staying but I didn’t really want to stay in a city. After some deliberation I decided to take the train for a little bit and then walk for a few hours to a pilgrim hostel with possibilities to camp.
Taking a train means planning, keeping an eye on the clock. Not seldom stressful situations. There was one in the right direction at 15.18 and I was there long before it arrived to buy a ticket but somehow the ticket didn’t get me through the portal, minutes passed, I tried everything in vain, then bought another ticket, that one got me through, just in time. 15.18, 15.20, 15.30, no train, another schedule than the one I had checked taught me there was not going to be a train until after 17.00 so I tried to get out of the station but without a used ticket the machine didn’t work and sneaking out when somebody entered or climbing over the portals was no option with C. The lady behind the button that offered assistence from a distance didn’t understand why I wanted to leave and I gave up after explaining 3 times. “There are worse things than waiting on a bench at a station” I thought, gave it a last try and this time the scanner let me through. When I came back 1,5 hour later neither of the 2 tickets worked, so I bought a third ticket, got on the train and enjoyed the landscape for almost an hour, deeper into Asturias following the river Nalón to Pravia and after crossing the river up north again, the river on the right side of the train now. From Muros de Nalon on foot again, 8.5 kilometre, only to discover that the place I had aimed for was not in the village where I thought it was but another 12 kilometre down the trail. I was close to what is officially (whatever that means) is called one of the most beautiful villages in Spain and in high season it was out of the question to find affordable accomodation there. Luckily the campsite had a field for tents and I was assigned a spot inbetween a bored Dutch family and a happy Argentinian hitchhiker who was exploring every corner of Spain. It was situated next to the tennis court where teenagers were more involved in telling dirty jokes than playing tennis. There was a depressing bar/restaurant/supermarket, a swimming pool that was about to close and would open again at midday, too late to use unless I would stay another night. I wasn’t sure my soul could cope with 2 nights here.
After installing the tent, showering and doing laundry, a little walk to check out the village felt like a good idea. Luckily I didn’t know it was 1.5 kilometre steep down, where Cudillero was build around a little bay inbetween steep mountain walls, the houses seemingly glued against the rocky surface. There were uncountable restaurants with terraces and most probably there was some good seafood on the menu of many of them, but I didn’t feel like joining the crowd and just stared at the dark water for a while. It would be nice to come back here early in the morning, before the tourists arrived.