This morning the clouds were hanging low while we were packing our bikes at the hostel. There was not only a curious little boy observing us while were fixing everything to the bikes, but also a very curious duck, that loved to bite into the rubber of our tyres.
Before we got back onto the Camino Primitivo, I still had to take a team photo because they had some coloured biked wheels leaning against the wall, which could perfectly form the symbol of the Olympic logo. And we felt very Olympic with all we had achieved as sportive action on our bikes by now. But we had no clue what would still expect us today.
We knew already from the map that we were heading towards the foothills of the Cordillera Cantabria. Passing by quiet little villages like Vilabade we discovered a beautiful Pazo and the church of Santa Maria for shelter, but we found no place for food. It got more and more lonesome and we met the last pilgrims at the Ermita de la Virgen del Carmen before we had to bike uphill into the forests. At the Alto da Vaqueriza we finally hit the road again and met some sportive bikers on their race bikes.
The clouds got lower and lower and it started to drizzle very lightly. At the village of Cádabo we entered the Bar of Mesón a Marronda to warm up with a little soup. The “Fuego” of the gambling machine didn’t really give any heat to the place. But as long as we were moving on our bikes we stayed warm. We reached 936 m altitude at the Alto da Fontaneira, where we were already in the clouds and the wind got stronger. What astonished us more and more was how empty the road was, with police on motorbikes patrolling everywhere. But we kept on biking.
After A Lastra we had to take a turn to the left and from there we had the chance to roll downhill on a winding road. But with each curve the drizzle intensified into rain and while we picked up speed the rain picked up too and turned into an intense downpour. We were drenched until we reached the next village of Paradavella, where we took shelter at a roof covered Pelota field.
We saw again police on motorbikes and a convoy of advertising cars passing by. No more normal cars were allowed on the road, but we kept biking as no one stopped us from doing so.
We even enjoyed the completely empty road of the Avenida Galicia when we reached the town of A Fonsagrada. But once we got to the centre spectators were watching on both sides of the road, and finally the Police stopped us and told us to leave the road. We wanted to know why and for how long, and they told us until “La Vuelta” would have passed.
All the people were watching us, and the youth of the village had to laugh when I took off my shoes and poured the water out. As we were no longer moving I started to get cold, but luckily the sun came back. We were actually hungry, but didn’t want to miss the bike race going by. So we waited for nearly an hour until finally the sound of a helicopter announced the arrival of the bikers. At first we saw only policemen on their motorbikes looking great in their uniform, followed by the team cars with spare bikes on the roof top and a lot of advertising. Finally the crowd started to get louder animating the bikers of the front group to give their best. Within seconds they had passed. But there were more to come and once the main field was reaching us it was like a bee swarm flying by, and within a very short matter of time all these skinny speeding bikers were zooming by at an arm’s length away from us. This field was followed by TV-teams, hundreds of team cars, more police and ambulances and finally the sanitary van.
The crowd started to move into the restaurants for lunch and we had to fight our way through with our bikes and bags to finally park them in front of the Restaurante Cantábrico. Inside the TV was showing the continuation of the race seen live from the helicopter cameras, with the bikers going downhill where we just had pedalled uphill.
Upstairs we were so happy to find a table. We could to hang up our wet clothes and warm up with some good warm vegetable soup, while the noise of the exited crowd filled the place. We were in the middle of an exciting Spanish family fiesta Saturday. What a great experience.
Our tour continued in better weather conditions over the rolling hills through a village called Fonfria, just like Fonfria at the Alto do Poio where we had been earlier, just that we were now on the Camino Primitivo and no longer on the Camino Frances.
The last pass was even higher than 1.000 m at the Alto del Acevo. Shortly after we crossed the border between Galicia and Asturias, and from there we were mostly going downhill to the pilgrims hostel at San Julián.
A beautiful rural place run by Mynhardt and Séan, who had done a great job by renovating a group of old farmhouses for the pilgrims, creating together the context of a village of their own.
As they were already fully booked, we had the privilege to stay at their private guest room in their own house. The best thing of the day was to take a hot shower and warm up again. We even had to empty our wallets and lay out each bill separately on the window sill to let them dry.
The dinner among the pilgrims was a bit different as the conversation was very much dominated by some Americans, who were sharing their experiences in such a way that you couldn’t tell whether they actually enjoyed being a pilgrim or just did the walk to have some stories to tell. A young couple from Italy was sitting opposite us. Being on the Camino was their first adventure together as a couple and they said, if this works out fine it will hold for their lives. Well we hope the best for them. There was also a couple from Valencia, and a father and son from Poland.
