Historias de la Gran Patranha

Alevia was like travelling back in time. The evening amusement for the villagers seemed to be to check out the new stallion "in the hood" in the main square (plot of grass with big tree in the middle), and then went for a chato de vino in the only bar in the village. The horse was still there in the morning; they had found a snug strip of grass for him next to the old church... on the best spot with a view. He has now been immortalised in one of the photos our our trip, see below, taken by Phil as I was not on photographing mood.

... and this was the view behind him...

So, when we woke up, the skies had cleared and we could ascertain that we were certainly pretty high up (as per the photo above). The view still magnificent, the bill fine (85€ for our room and a magnificent yummy brekkie was pretty fair), the car still there, waiting for us, and the day lovely...

Thus, we set off towards Galicia. Curvy road on the way down from Alevia and curvy road all through the mountains - we have GPS photo to prove the crazy orography of the area.

Phil loved the drive, I endured it (not feeling too well). Through amazing crevasses, cut by rivulets and wild plants, some of walls surrounding us were sweating water and moss. The rock was grey, white, reddish at times, and stood up in the worst climber-defying of shapes.

The view from the mirador at Poo de Cabrales - chosen because I thought it would be fine to take Phil to a place called "poo"... childish but ever so endearing... - was rather incredible. The vertical panettone of the Naranco de Bulnes, highest mountain of the peaks and one of the highest in Spain, appeared surrounded by other mountains and valleys, and the walls around it were spotted with caves and specks of snow... lovely!

From there, we were supposed to go to the Cuevas del Agua, to see the Cuevona, where you can drive through a natural tunnel, but somehow the GPS missed the trick and directed us straight away to the motorway - maybe it was trying to tell us something.

My mum had told us to get to Coruna by 3 so that we could go out on the boat with my uncle. Only that our planned time of arrival was 6, so we declined the invitation. Somehow, though, the kilometres seemed to fly past with the lovely view of the sea on one side and the mountains on the other, with the damn heat falling on us and my resilient wish to keep the roof of the car put in place as shelter... ah, the heat, the heat, too much to bear - and yes, I would have also complained had it been raining.

So, somehow, we drove so quickly and my uncle was so late that we did get to Coruna for four ish and he was waiting for us on the boat, but at that stage I was feeling so ill that as soon as I stepped on the pontoons at the port, all the world seemed to just be moving too much, so we just touched base on Santa Cruz, in the lovely new house specially kitted for us by my mum, while my sister, friend, and uncle, boated along.

As soon as I got home, I went straight to bed (it didn't move, yay!), Phil got to wash the car, drive my mum around (she adored the little car), then he swam with my parents in the swimming pool (a scene worthy of Moby Dick) and seemingly, my uncle and co. on the boat got to the middle of nowhere in the ocean and had to be rescued as they run out of petrol... so am glad we didn't join them.