We spent most of Monday exploring the coast around Ribadesella. To the east, Llanes is an attractive small port, with some medieval streets still intact, and a beautiful harbor. It is larger than Ribadesella, and a bit more touristy. At the harbor entrance, Basque artist Augustin Ibarrola decided to create a breakwater of big, colorful cubes of painted cement, a whimsical and very cheerful marker of place. To the west of Ribadesella, Llastres is a fishing village that is, in contrast, smaller and less touristy than Ribadesella. It is the television setting for Doc Mateo, Spain’s version of Britain’s Doc Martin. Quaint, and quiet. We ate lunch at a seafood restaurant on the wharf there.
I still think that the highlight of the excursion was Jerome’s encounter with a small herd of the local milk cows. We stopped to photograph the Picos de Europa, and were moo’ed at (?) from across the highway. We wandered over to see the cows, who immediately roused themselves to come say “hola”. Jerome stayed at their fence longer than I, and they clearly decided he was a source of interest, the dozen or so females and eight or ten calves steadily approaching his spot. Their coarse metal bells clanging, and two or three of them softly bellowing, they made quite a ruckus. Jerome took a great video with his little camera, which we will try to figure out how to share, luddites that we are. I was torn between laughter and awe, and hope that the fence would hold up as the whole group ambled Jerome-wise. They are beautiful animals, with creamy brown hides and big soft eyes. What a treat.
Yesterday (Tuesday) we packed up the car, said goodbye to the coast, and headed upriver. This driving trip was for the travel purpose of taking us over the Picos onto the central meseta of Spain, but it also became a quest for the source of the river. The Sella is broad and placid in Ribadesella, and remained so as we drove the first twenty kilometers south. Then, the higher we rose and the further south we drove, the narrower the river and the deeper the canyon, until we were in a narrow defile on the edge of a cliff, and thankful for the engineers who created the very small but sturdy road. The Picos rose all around us in their limestone glory, and the red-and-white snow markers grew more frequent. At the top we saw a sign for “La cuna del Sella” -- the cradle of the Sella river -- on our right, went around a curve to the left over a summit, and entered an entirely different environment.
We also left Asturias, and entered Castilla y León. Immediate brilliant sunshine, the air so clear that it almost hurt the eyes, but softer terrain and gentler slopes. The geology reminded us of the Sierra foothills in California, with golden grasslands and deep green foliage, tumbling down from the Picos onto a gentle plain. And so we came into the small but historically important city of León, about which more tomorrow. My photos are not turning out well, but I will post what I have. Jerome will eventually publish his far more evocative portraits of Asturias, as well as the rest of the trip.
