Motorhome News from Europe 5

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Motorhome News from Europe 5

Spain. October 3rd 2004 Galicia

From the Picos mountains to Santiago de Compostela.


The Picos snared our hearts with its ragged mountains; its ever-changing skies and stunning green valleys etched in our minds. But after four days we both felt that we needed a break from mountain driving Picos style: narrow, steep, hair-pins, sheer drops, no parking places, no passing places and no turning places. Certainly not motor-home friendly, but oh, so very, very beautiful. With some fabulous hikes and equally stunning weather we had ventured on foot high into the mountains and will remember forever our first hike which we called, 'walking with choughs', because both Alpine and Common Choughs accompanied us most of the way. A small group of chamois posed for us on the rocky hills and griffon vultures circled overhead. Another most memorable adventure. There are so many adorable isolated spots in the Picos.




Now that October is here there are fewer campsites open along the coast westwards towards Galicia, so we are having to drive further than we would sometimes like in a day. Beyond the Picos our next halt was at Luarca, where our pitch looked out over the pounding breakers along a rocky coast somewhat reminiscent of Cornwall. We stayed here two nights to have our rest day on Sunday, when we did some local walking along the coast with excellent sightings of Goldfinches, Redstarts, Black redstarts, Stonechats - and we think a Dartford warbler.

Monday was a lovely day, driving leisurely round the north Galician coast meandering through small unspoiled fishing ports and beside gorgeous empty beaches. We also tried “fried fish” (rough translation) which turned out to be large “whitebait”, and actually surprisingly tasty, heads, tails and all. Nightfall saw us camped and snugly tucked in at Santiago de Compostela, the final destination of many pilgrims, some of whom hike enormous distances to get here.





Heavy drizzle seemed to have set in for the day as we ventured into the city by bus; always a good option to parking the motorhome on busy car parks in large cities. However, as the day wore on, it brightened up and the city became somewhat less depressing than it had seemed at first. The Romanesque granite cathedral rises beyond an enormous square seething with devout Catholics from all points of the globe, sheltering from the rain in a snaking queue beneath their umbrellas. Not only were there the genuine pilgrims, toting huge backpacks, 4ft long walking sticks with scallop shells and gourds attached, but there were also coachloads of mostly Spanish tourists, all intent on going to the cathedral service to witness the swinging of the Santiago de Compostela Botafumeiro, the largest censer in the world, weighing 80 kg and measuring 1.60 m in height. During certain important religious high days it is attached to the pulley mechanism and filled with 40 kg of charcoal and incense, swinging precariously over the heads of the congregation! We were clearly there on one of those important days in the Catholic calendar. Dark and overcrowded inside, we left them all to it, seated, crowded in the pews, talking, wandering about the cathedral in groups, and taking photographs with little-or-no respect for the sanctity of the place. That, I don’t understand - we felt somewhat threatened by the crowds and noise. I have never seen so many confessionals in my life. There must be an awful lot of sinners around in the world today!


Away from the cathedral we lost ourselves amidst a pleasant maze of cobbled, arcaded streets. Lunch today in the backstreets cost just 6 Euros (about £4) for the two of us; starter, main course (paella) and dessert, plus bread and one third of a litre of wine. We returned to the cathedral in the comparative quiet of the afternoon to witness its more serene side, tall and dark and somewhat sombre with few windows, a long queue of pilgrims waiting to kiss the cloak of St James and gain wisdom from touching the head and hands of the cathedral’s architect.

This carefree life, meandering through the countryside, taking time to smell the roses, can prove, on occasion, to be somewhat fragile. like the spinning of a sycamore seed or an autumn leaf on the wind. On returning to the motorhome back at the campsite, we were disturbed to find that the remote key wouldn’t unlock the cab doors and using the key set off the alarm! Even entering through the motorhome's side door set off the alarm. Whatever we tried, it kept going. Panic!
The campsite warden seemed unconcerned. 'It's the transmitter,' he said, pointing to a huge mast at the top of the hill. Why couldn't he have warned us when we arrived? We had to phone the alarm company back in England to tell us how to deal with the problem; the input of a vital code (hidden in our instruction booklet), whilst the screeching alarm brought crowds of inquisitive campers. The problem evidently arose because of our proximity to the high-powered transmission mast above the campsite which we hadn’t noticed before. We moved elsewhere on the surprisingly busy site to avoid the risk of it happening again. You learn something new every day!


David and Janice
The Grey Haired Nomads

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Photos

Wallking with choughs
high in the hills

Mountain meadows
the pleasure of walking in the hills

Santiago de Compostela
within the cathedral courtyard

Santiago de Compostela
devotees queueing in the rain

Santiago de Compostela
the cathedral

Northern Spain
a brief rest in the hills and time to smell the roses

Northern Spain
chamois - a vibrant sculpture high in the mountains

Fish market
...always a magnet for a camera

Porto de Bares
a lot of pebbles on the beach here