Tale of Two Trails (and Heartbreak) : Poladura de la Tercia to Llanos de Someron

After a breakfast of bread, jam, and coffee in our room we set off around 7:30 am into a crisp, clear morning.  The rising sun was casting a warm golden light on the peaks of the mountains to the west, while those in the east still cast long shadows.  Crunchy white frost covered the grass in the shaded areas, whereas droplets of sparkling water hung from the lush vegetation in areas warmed by the sun. 

The first 7 km after leaving Poladura de la Tercia were some of the most beautiful of any we've ever walked.  We climbed up and up and up on dirt tracks and footpaths, through lush green meadows surrounded on all sides by mountains that receded into the distance in the early morning light.  Apart from the repetitive call of a cuckoo in the valley below,  the sound of cowbells from horses and cows on the surrounding hills, and the crunching of our own footsteps, all was silent. 

The landscape was truly awe-inspiring.  Chunks of white rock stuck up like bones out of the earth, surrounded by sloping green fields.  Tiny, delicate wildflowers in white, yellow, pink, and purple lined the trail.  Tufts of broom and patches of dense gorse and purple mountain heather dotted the hillsides.  As the sun began to warm the landscape the buzz of bees brought the meadows to life, and we quickly shed our sweaters as we climbed. 

 

 

Just before 9 am we reached Alto de Los Romeros and the Cruz del Salvador.  In the tradition of the Cruz de Ferro on the Camino Frances I had carried a rock with me from Madrid, which I lay at the foot of the metal cross.  I think this is not a tradition here, as there weren't many other rocks, but perhaps it will become one. 

Standing below the cross, at the top of the pass, looking out on the stunning landscape in the crisp, clean morning air was one of those moments that made me wonder how I could be so lucky as to find myself in that particular place, at that exact moment, in the presence of so much astounding beauty.  It made us truly grateful for all the many blessings in our lives that made this possible. 

At the top of the pass there was a small patch of icy snow on the trail.  Remnants of brilliant white snow covered many of the surrounding peaks, but as we would soon discover, it was rapidly melting in the warm spring air.  The trail coming down from the pass was very soggy, and over the course of the day we picked our way across several melt-water streams, filled with clear, icy cold mountain water rushing and tumbling down to the valley below. 

After crossing the pass we spotted the red roofs of a small village snuggled into the next valley.  Instead of going down to visit it, we climbed back up out of the valley on a winding dirt logging road.  The hills on either side had been replanted with rows of pines, giving the hills a striped look.  After climbing up, we inevitably climbed back down, crossing the first and deepest of the meltwater streams. I opted to pick my way across on a line of stepping stones, while Sean took off his shoes and socks and waded through the painfully cold water. 

Shortly before noon we reached the community of Santa Maria de Arbas del Puerto, a small collection of buildings along a very busy highway nestled into the mountains.  We passed a red brick Roman church on the way in to town, but didn't backtrack along the highway to visit it. A long, low field stone bar was located right along the busy roadway, and we spotted Fernando just leaving as we approached. 

We lost no time in stepping inside for a well-earned café con leche and slice of cake, as well as two stamps for our credentials.  The walls were covered in historic and modern photos of people skiing at the nearby mountain resort, making it look like this is a popular destination in winter. 

After our much-needed break we crossed the busy highway to a lookout at the foot of the old and majestic Parador Hotel, which resembled a large white church or castle, dominating the landscape and visible from miles around.  The view from the lookout across a forested valley at mountains and snow covered peaks was stunning.  A few other cyclists and motorists were out on the lookout with us, enjoying the epic view on the clear sunny day. 

This town marked the end of our walk through the province of Castille y Leon, and our entrance into Asturias. As we headed back up into the hills behind the bar, we felt a noticeable change in the trail.  We first threaded our way through a field of extremely sharp gorse, that pricked at our shins.  The dirt track was wet, and while trying to avoid a little stream, Sean tripped and fell in the prickles.  We didn't notice until much later in the day, but at this point he must have lost his water bottle.  Although this creates a problem for the next few days, because there are no shops of any kind to buy even a temporary replacement, it also had a deeper significance.  In the end, it can only be viewed as a lesson in leaving behind painful burdens from the past, even if we aren't necessarily ready to leave them behind. 

As we headed back up to another pass, way markings were few and far between.  At one point we were pushing through broom, spiky holly, and gorse that was taller than we were.  When we finally emerged into a lush green meadow all we could do was guess which direction to go next ... down hill.  

We crossed a rushing stream, and then diverted into an oak forest.  The sunshine was filtering down through the tree leaves, and birdsong surrounded us.  It could have been a pleasant walk, except for one small detail.  The trail was clearly used by cows, and it was a ribbon of soft, deep, churned up mud and manure with water flowing freely over the top. In places we had to scramble across deep ditches filled with water, the sides of which were soft stinky muck.  The slope was steep, and the ground around the trail was covered in a layer of dried leaves over top of deep slippery mud.  It was little better than staying on the trail itself, and with so few markings we didn't want to stray too far anyway.  There is little else to say except that it was pretty miserable. 

Eventually we emerged into a wet meadow on the other side.  When we stopped for a break at the top, trying to decide where the trail was mostly likely to go next, we discovered the loss of the water bottle.  Sean went back through the muck looking for it, but to no avail.  It was very dispiriting. 

Eventually we spotted a yellow arrow on a rock near the bottom of the steep slope and made our way straight down towards it.  At the bottom we crossed the highway, and found ourselves entering a natural reserve. It was very beautiful, but as the trail wove up and down the steep sides of forested valleys, we became increasingly tired.  At one point we were offered a choice between following a route to San Miguel, or going on to Pajares.  We first tried the San Miguel route, but after a few minutes of walking we saw no way markers and it was taking us off the gpx tracks we had which led to the albergue.  We decided to backtrack and head for Pajares. 

 

 

Perhaps this was a mistake.  We made our way through gorgeous mountains, weaving our way among pastures filled with cows and horses.  Field stone huts with red roofs stood in the pastures, which were guarded by dogs that looked like they were much in need of some kind words and tender loving care.  Fruit trees with gorgeous pink blossoms bordered the trail.  However, we climbed down and down and down, only to climb all the way back up to Pajares.  

We had been hoping to find a cold zumo or something to eat in Pajares, but we had no luck.  The colourful mountain town was stretched out along two streets on the side of the steep slope.  People seemed to be everywhere, from grandparents out for a stroll, to young parents pushing strollers, to groups of teenagers working on a car.  One young man was riding a dirt bike up and down the main street, creating a huge racket  as he wove among the pedestrians.  Although the church was open the entrance was blocked by people, so we walked on. 

At the far edge of town the trail again dove down, this time on a concrete road with a slope so steep it hurt the knees.  We went relentlessly downward, feeling like the descent would never end or let up.  Finally we came to the bottom of the treed valley, and then began climbing up a steep asphalt road.  About half way up we stopped at a fountain to get a drink, feeling pretty tired and dispirited by that point.  An old woman walked down the road as we sat there, and offered us encouraging words in Spanish.  We asked her if it was safe to drink the water, and she said yes, it was the same as in the village, so we gratefully drank and refilled our remaining bottle. 

At the top of the hill was the tiny and charming village of Santa Marina.  It was only a few homes gathered together on the hillside, but it seemed very tranquil, and the tree lined street offered beautiful views out over the valley. 

The last 5 km of the hike today seemed to last forever.  In the end we were walking up a rocky trail down which a small stream was flowing.  Slow and steady was the only way to reach the top.  Finally we found a tiny village nestled into the side of the mountain. It was Llanos de Someron, our destination for the night.  When we finally arrived at the Albergue Cascoxu around 3:30 pm, we were greeted by Jaques and Mick, who had arrived about an hour before us.  Fernando was just behind us, and Mick went back to help carry his pack for the last little bit. As he set off, Mick good-naturedly made one of the best observations of this Camino about our lovely friend Fernando – ‘If he’d just stop talking, he'd be here by now!’

It was a very tough day, but it had a wonderful ending.  The Albergue Cascoxu is lovely, and the owners are truly wonderful people.  They brought us cold drinks on the patio, and patiently waited until we were all ready to check in.  The bunks are in two large, spacious rooms with windows, and each has its own shelf, plug, and locker.  There are two showers, three toilets, and three sinks in a large and modern bathroom, and there is a fully equipped kitchen and plenty of space to sit inside or outside.  

After a shower we brought our collective laundry downstairs and the owners washed it in a machine (something it badly needed by this point!).  We spent a quiet afternoon working in the common room downstairs, where there are board games, 3D maps of Asturias and its Camino routes, guides to the local birds, and many other interesting things. 

Over the course of the afternoon the other pilgrims wandered in, and in the end Fernando phoned the albergue in Pola de Lena and made reservations for everyone tomorrow.  Our App had listed the albergue as being closed, but the owners of this albergue provided the phone number of tomorrow's place, and Fernando was able to arrange it in Spanish for all of us.  It made us wonder how different our hike along the Camino Madrid might have been if we'd been able to speak Spanish. In any case, we are left to count our blessings. 

Dinner was at 8 o'clock, and it was a wonderful treat!  Fresh salad, warm bread, pumpkin soup, a delicious bean dish that Asturias is famous for, and mouth watering cheese cake for dessert.  We were so grateful that with advance notice they were willing to take the trouble to make a vegetarian option for us! Sadly, I think everyone was too hungry to take photos of the meal, but it was beautifully presented.  It was served with red wine, and Jaques bought everyone a shot of Hierbas for dessert, to help with digestion.  It was the best meal we've had anywhere on this Camino by far! 

It was a long, tiring day, filled with incredible beauty and many challenges.  It strikes us that often the most beautiful things in the world are found in the most extreme environments and circumstances.  We were so lucky to find ourselves here, with these people, on a such a gorgeous day.

Distance: 18.6 km

Accommodation: Albergue Cascoxu