Gijon to Parque Somiedo, October 16th
We wake up with the roaring of the sea and the rain lashing against the window. The best thing we can do is to join the wetness. We get on our bikes and cycle past the surfers who bob up and down with the waves like Guillemots, waiting for a good one to then surf precariously close to the rocks. We prefer the main beach for our excursion, where the waves roll in onto fine sand. We leave our clothes under the overhang of the life guard’s house and sprint through the rain into the waves. The sea is warm and gorgeous, and apart from the surfers, we are the only people crazy enough to enjoy it.
When we get back home, it’s time to make a fire to dry all our wet things, to make some lunch and to have a siesta.
In the afternoon, we leave Gijon and head once more for the mountains. As soon as we can, we leave the motorway and go on a lovely national road, the N634, where we meet
the Camino de Santiago once more, like an old friend.
We stop off in a little town to ask for some firewood at a furniture shop and they direct us to the sawmill at the other end of town. We get to the sawmill just when the owner is about to close the door. He’s not too pleased at first to reopen the gates, but when we exchange some homemade produce against a few bags of firewood, he soon warms to us and starts chatting, giving us advice about where to go in Parque Somiedo. He tells us about some friends he has in Pigüeces, a German woman and a French man, who make honey.
We drive on a few more kilometers to find a place near the river in a curve in the road.
We have some pork & apple stew made with local cider, and fall into bed.
When I wake up the next morning, Frank has hacked a path to the river. A man has to hack a path so his lady can go bathing
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