Have Cash - Will Travel

The wide A8 dual highway heading west meandered

through the coastline of the

Picos mountain range rises in the distance

Basque countryside offering a sweeping view of the

Atlantic that was initially shrouded with fog which slowly lifted as the sun rose higher behind us. By 10:00AM, we reached the town of Panes where we turned inland towards Potes which is the jumping-off point to the mountains.

Picos de Europa is a mountain range that lies just 20 kms. from the sea which was reputedly christened “Peaks of Europe” by sailors whose first sighting of their homeland were the jagged edges of the massif. The range is located within three regions - Asturias, Cantabria and Leon – and it has a diverse terrain with deep gorges, limestone peaks, forested slopes, winding rivers and high-altitude lakes. It’s a perfect place for camping and hiking. For us, though, it was just a pitstop to admire the scenery.

The narrow two-lane mountain road’s gradient started to get steeper as it zigzagged through the Desfiladero de la Hermida that had towering rock

The mountains envelope the town of Panes

surfaces on one side and a sheer drop to the Rio Deva below on the other side. The gorge was so deep that the sun’s rays hardly filtered down although the peaks were bathed with dazzling light. It was a beautiful contrast that distracted one’s driving concentration so much so that I decided to pull up on a wide shoulder beside the road. We got out of the car and for about half an hour, we just stood there taking in the view while breathing the invigorating cold mountain air. Except for the gurgling sound of the river, there was nothing else but silence which was pure bliss.

By the time we rolled into the charming town of Potes at noontime, we were a bit tired and greatly famished. The latter was taken care of by a sizzling serving of seafood

paella and revuelto (a dish of creamy scrambled egg with prawns and asparagus bathed in olive oil) topped with assorted breads and cheeses. The Cafeteria Llorente had a nice terrace that offered a picturesque scenery of mountains in the distance. Fortified with a bottle of ice cold San Miguel beer (yes, our own!), I was about ready to call it quits and snore the rest of the day in one of the quaint hotels nearby. But Santiago beckoned – we weren’t even half the way yet.

Our destination in this short detour was Fuente De, a town 28 kms. away from Potes which sits right below the mountain range of the Picos. The main attraction is the cable car that whisks you up to the top - we bought return tickets costing 10 Euros each. Some intrepid people just bought one-way fares up and walked all the way back down through various trails along the mountainside. It takes about 3 hours of steady walking. The cable car was large enough to take about two dozen passengers and the ride up was near vertical with no pylons in between making it the longest single-span cable car in Europe. The steel cables stretched for 1-1/2 kilometers long from the lower station to the upper one whose height difference was about 800 meters. It took some 4 ear-popping minutes to get to the top.

Stepping out of the station, we came to a steel viewing

Great food at this resto in the scenic town of Potes

deck cantilevering out from the rock face. One could stand here and enjoy a 180-degree magnificent view of the whole valley and the outer mountain range of Cantabria. We hiked a couple of meters up the rocky plateau to find a nice place to sit and enjoy the breathtaking panorama. Nearby was the pointy Matterhorn-like peak called Pena Remona which is 2,450 meters high. Many visitors opened up their picnic baskets (complete with wine bottles) for a delectable lunch. Others, laden with camping gear, went in various directions on well-marked trails for a day or two of trekking. I thought how nice it would be to spend a couple of days camping out with a group of friends and enjoying the outdoors just for the fun of it.

After about an hour, the wife reminded me that we still had a long drive ahead of us

Resting our little Micra friend before the final ascent 

so I somewhat reluctantly packed up the Nikon and videocam. I must have taken over a couple of hundred shots because every angle was just picture-perfect with a deep blue sky for a background.

Back in the lower station, we had a quick lunch on the outside terrace of the overpriced restaurant before going back to the car and retracing our way to Potes. We debated whether to head further south to Reano before looping back to Cangas de Onis on the highway to Santiago. This would have brought us toward more spectacular gorges, lookout points and several mountain lakes but it would have been a back-breaking drive over some rough terrain, not to mention setting us back 3 more hours. Since we were now running behind schedule, we opted to go back to the A8 highway which was still 470 kms. away from Santiago - about 5 hours of fast driving. I figured, since it was already 5:00PM, we’d be at our destination by 10:00.

At first, it was a breeze driving at 180KPH on the well-paved Autovia. But I didn’t expect that after

Fuente De cable car station looks like a miniature toy set

Oviedo, the route would become a two-lane winding road going past heavily-forested mountains where one could only manage to squeeze in 60KPH at best. The never-ending ribbon of asphalt was quite hypnotizing especially after the late sunset when the shadows grew longer.

We were now following the El Camino Real – the road taken by pilgrims who walked their way to Santiago from Roncesvalles in France. This was signposted by the sign of a white star on a blue field. The Way of St. James began as a pilgrimage route when a monk in Galicia supposedly discovered the apostle’s tomb by the aid of the stars in 813AD (hence, “campo de estrellas” or field of stars). They built a cathedral on the site which became a place for pilgrimage especially when the Pope decreed that any person who walked to Santiago, confessed their sins and took

communion would have all their sins forgiven. The trek became so popular that by the Middle Ages, half a million people from all over Europe were

flocking there every year. It had somewhat been forgotten but was rekindled as recently as two decades ago when the Spanish government revived the tradition. Now you have people doing it again by the thousands either on foot or by bike staying in humble hostels along the route. It takes about 3-4 weeks to complete the trek on foot and those who finish it get a special certificate called a “compostela” from the cathedral.

Driving can’t be considered as a pilgrimage, of course, but still, we felt privileged to be passing by the route trod by thousands before us. Sometimes, things got complicated when

The limestone massif in all its glory

the road forked into several directions at roundabouts. Twice, I followed the wrong signs – quite easy

to do in the dark – and had to backtrack after several kilometers. Gladys was my navigator because she had spread the large Michelin map across her lap. With flashlight in hand, she read out names that I had to watch out for on the road: La Espina, Luarca, Navia, Ribadeo, A Pontenova, Paraxes. Small towns that helped us get our bearings on the N634  road that branched out to N640. The good thing was the Spaniards got their road signs up to par.

We reached the city of Lugo a bit past 10:00PM. The thing that caught my attention was the floodlit massive wall (6 meters thick by 10 meters tall) running parallel to the road. They were old

Looks like a lunar landscape at the top

fortifications built by the Romans to encircle the city which used to be an important place due to its thermal springs. As we made our way out, I finally saw the sign that I was looking for: Santiago de Compostela – 107 kms.

The last lap of the trip was done in a quick blur through the inky black night where only the car’s headlamps and the embedded reflectors on the road provided visual company. Once in a while, another vehicle headed in the opposite direction flashed by but, otherwise, there was nothing. The steady purr of the engine, the warm, orange light glowing from the dashboard and the lilting melody of a Spanish guitar emanating from the radio somehow gave us some comfort as we sped onwards.

We finally entered the outskirts of Santiago almost at midnight and found ourselves on a cobblestone road near the Obradoiro Square beside the cathedral’s towering twin belfries.

There was still some traffic on the road and a few people were up and about, strolling after a late dinner, I guess. Not knowing exactly where to go looking for our hotel due to the maze of narrow streets that weren’t so car-friendly, I decided to park in one of the squares and got out to search for Hotel Costa Vela. It was within walking distance of the vicinity indicated on the map.

Close to 1:00AM, I finally rang the doorbell of the small, family-run lodging. The kindly wife of the owner opened the door and welcomed me with a warm, “Buenos Dias, senor. Bienvenido a Santiago!”

I felt like we were finally home.