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LOG ENTRY DATE: September 10, 2003 Returned from a.... hell, what does one call it when one takes time off from one's sabbatical? Well, regardless, Katie came over from home, and we spent 11 days travelling in Spain, mostly hiking. I picked her up at the Madrid airport (a drive of about 8 hours from where the boat was, in Villamoura, Portugal) on Thursday, August 28, and we spent the night in a 5 star hotel in downtown Madrid. Not bad... we also visited the Prado museum, and saw as many famous paintings in a few hours as I was exposed to during my whole career in college as an Art History major. (Pics from Madrid here and here) On the way back from the Prado, we heard a bang, and looked up to see a small delivery truck, on its side, moving in rapid fashion across the park toward us—shedding wheels and trim as it came! Fortunately, it stopped about 20 feet shy of us, but it was somewhat disconcerting. The driver of the truck hopped out through the (now extinct) windshield, and then pulled his rather large friend out of the passenger seat via the same egress... everyone seemed to be OK, so there was no need for me to practice my first aid training which, fortunately for them, consists mainly of mouth to mouth resuscitation, and the Heimlich Maneuver. Since they were both breathing, I felt it best to leave them to the paramedics who were right on our heels. We hopped in the car and headed for north central Spain, which is where the Picos de Europa—one of Spain's tallest mountain ranges—is located. We did well on that score all the way to Leon, when our rental car decided it had had enough, and went into a lethargic mode, bucking and coughing so that we felt uncomfortable about taking it into the mountains. Fortunately, we found an office of the same rental car agency, and they—very reluctantly—allowed us to switch cars. So, we traded in the VW Polo for a Fiat Punta. Not sure which was better, though we were pleased that the Fiat continued to run—this being the second time in a month that a rental car crapped out on me. Katie had meticulously planned our trip, so our first hotel in the mountatins was fantastic. Three nights in a small but elegant inn. Only problem was that the weather didn't cooperate... we hiked in mist and clouds for the first three days. In fact, on our first day up to a col from the town of Fuente De, the fog lifted briefly, I was suprised to see that we had come up the side of a very steep wall, into which the trail had literally been chiseled... not our favorite kind of trail. Another day was spent climbing to one of the "refugios" in the Parque Nacional—oases that are much like the huts in the White Mountains. To get to the trail head of the path to Vega de Ario refugio, we drove up to the Lago Ercina, which is a very small, very winding road, from which you could send your car plummeting hundreds of meters without much effort... the feeling of unease was trebeled, at least, by the fact that the road was also being used by full-size tour buses (who could barely turn around the corners), and the typical Spanish motorist, who is never comfortable being behind somebody else and thus must forever be passing the car ahead. Although the road and the lake were crowded, we lost all contact with humans about 200 yards into the hike, and had the trail to ourselves for the whole day. At one point, we became victims of Spanish trail markings, which can be vague at best. At a junction, a sign with our destination on it pointed to the right, towards a smaller path; to the left, the yellow trail blazes continued. I decided to trust the sign, which turned out good and bad. Bad, because it wasn't the right path and the weather was very iffy, but good because it led us around the other side of the mountain, where we met a shepard who lived alone in a small hut with his two dogs and his radio for company. He pointed out the vague direction of the refugio, and we found it after some cross-country bush-wacking. Maybe not the wisest route, but certainly one that few people get to see. It wasn't until the 4th day that we finally got good weather, and lots of good views of the Picos de Europa. The are indeed spectacular moutains... very steep, jagged, and gray, they climb to about 8000 feet, and are made up of three distinct ranges. The northern most one is only 10 miles from the coast, on the Bay of Biscay. Since we didn't get as much good weather as we wanted when we were in the area, we abandoned our plan to drive to Barcelona, and instead spent several more nights in the same area. We stayed in a great hotel that had once been the house and farm of a priest (very well done, and run by an Englishman, which was a relief language barrier-wise), as well as a hotel in a town that boasted the oldest buildings in Spain (Santillana Del Mar; 1400's). Additional Picos de Europas photos here. (NEW) On Friday, September 5, we made the run from the Picos de Europa to the city of Bilbao. Although several hours out of our way, we wanted to see the Guggenheim Museum that Frank Gehry designed. It was a fantastic structure: curvilenear, thrusting upwards (and in many other directions), and covered in titanium. It's also right on the river, and incorporates the water into mcuh of its design. We didn't go in—just seeing the building was interesting enough. Bilbao—suprisingly enough—was actually a very pleasant city. So far, I've been impressed with the culture, the cleanliness, and the activity in three of the Spanish cities I've seen so far (Barcelona, Madrid, and Bilbao). We returned to Madrid on Saturday, September 6, for two days before Katie flew home. More strolling leisurely around Madrid, taking in the parks, the Sunday Flea Market (huge!), and stopping at cafes. For me, the drive was only 7 hours long, as Tom had brought Chase around from Vilamoura to Villa Real, the last Portguese town on the Eastern border with Spain, along the Guadiana River. His journey was not without some adventure—both social and nautical—as his Supplemental Log attests. The plan now is to head up the Guadian River, a trip of about 20 miles, to the town of Alcoutim, where we will drop the hook and await the arrival of John O'Meara, who is coming to vacation with us for a week on September 15th. |
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