Lost in Granada

Granada was so consumed by the 20th International Congress of Nutrition that we felt enormously grateful to have found a tiny out-of-the-way hotel, a last minute hotwire choice that was far from the conference centre.

But we had lucked out. The 3-storey Arabeluj was a charming boutique hotel perched on a hillside.  A terrace, perfect for breakfast and end-of-the-day-tapas, overlooked the city.

From the terrace at dusk.

The Arabeluj was also within walking distance of the Alhambra and most everything else listed in our Rick Steeves' Guide.  That the walking was entirely uphill (or completely down, depending on your direction), was of no matter: we had Picos' mountain-walking experience.

Granada's houses are built on hillsides. 

Shamelessly clutching our city map, we set out through streets that are narrow, twisting and poorly marked.




It is very easy to get lost in Granada. And we did.  Frequently.

Don't be fooled.  Bruce is lost.

But getting lost does have its advantages. We discovered, by accident, aspects of Granada that are not in any guidebook. We observed uniformed  private school students arriving at wrought-iron gates in fancy cars.  We followed elderly nuns as they went shopping.  We saw Spanish families out for a Sunday afternoon stroll.

Having left the convent, this nun is now going to the butchers...

...followed by six knowing cats.  (Two are already around the corner!)

Three generations enjoy family time ( and dressing up).

We found parks and fountains, tiny courtyards, and an abundance of graffiti.  For whatever reason, every wall and building appears to be some sort of public palette.  Graffiti are everywhere!

This grafitti-ed corner was right by our hotel as we walked into town.

Not all graffiti was attractive.

There are plenty of graffiti on abandoned buildings, and we saw a few of those.  The economic downturn has not been kind to Spain.

Abandoned office block in central Granada.

One of the largest empty office towers once housed a bank.  It is right beside a favourite downtown meeting place (and bus stop),  Plaza de Isabel la Catolica.

You would think this plaza would be easy to find -- it is beautiful, large, central, and the statue of Isabella, Ferdinand and Columbus is tall and impressive.  But it is not the only imposing plaza in central Granada.   After three days we finally learned to walk there without having to backtrack or go once more around the block!
  

Plaza de Isabel la Catolica.  Guess which is the empty building?  The new (ugly) one.  

  

And Now, Bilbao

There was a time when tourists avoided the port city of Bilbao--if they knew about it at all. Back in 1964 on my first visit to Spain, it was certainly not on my radar.  

Then in 1997, along came architect Frank Gehry with a building that looked like a futuristic origami project made of aluminum foil.  Now, if you announce "Our next stop is Bilbao", everyone knows you aren't going to the city.  You are going to the art gallery, aka Guggenheim Bilbao.

And from the Picos, it is a short hop. If you get all the connections lined up, it takes about 4 hours or less.  We however did not have such luck, and wound up having to wait for three hours in Llanes.  
We could have done worse.  This little port city is quite picturesque, so we wandered around, camera at the ready.

Llanes

By the time we got to Bilboa, it was late afternoon.  But we were not deterred.  Our hotel was close to the Guggenheim, and since we were in Spain, we knew that we would not be late for dinner even if we turned up at 9:30.  We had plenty of time to thoroughly explore the art gallery and its environs. before searching out a restaurant.

We discovered, en route to the holy grail of galleries, that the city has happily embraced its arty side. 

"Bilbao"

We couldn't help but think that the Toronto waterfront could use this sort of upgrade.  The walk to the Guggenheim gallery is beautiful, and features gardens, sculptures, and interesting civic architecture.

Puppy, covered with living flowers, greets gallery goers.

I love this sculpture!

No ordinary bridge...this is one is gallery-worthy 

Even downtown Bilboa seems to know it should look good for visitors.

Early Sunday morning in Bilbao.

Take time to admire the city...and while you're at it, amble across the intersection!

The Final Hike!

If we wanted to complete the circuit and get back Arenas, we first needed to find our way to Poncebos where the S-cape van would pick us up.

We would not be taking the precipitous route down from the refuge at Urriellu, however.  We would take the long route down -- one that went from Sotres to Poncebos (via Collado Pandebano and the tiny village of Bulnes) and to our rendezvous at the bar, Garganta del Cares) .

At Collado Pandebano again.....

On tarmac roads and farm tracks we tramped from Sotres to Pandebano. Then with Urriellu to our left,  we headed down the valley.

Down hill and into the trees and bracken...

The entire walk was about 12 kms, and although technically not difficult, it was demanding. Vague directions such as "take care not to miss fork at end of walled meadow" did not encourage appreciation of whatever vista lay ahead. (We did not miss the fork, but discovered later that others had.  We asked about their GPS.  Wasn't it working?  Yes it was.  At the bottom of a knapsack.)

Then there was the middle section of the track which our notes described as "long, steep and tedious".   And rocky.  The track was entirely composed of boulders and rough stone.  We thought it might be a stream bed, but the rocks were arranged far too regularly to have been placed there by the hand of nature. A Roman Road?  We knew that Christians hell-bent on re-claiming the Iberian peninsula from the Moors came this way on the Ruta de la Reconquista.  It tried to imagine sandled feet on this unpleasant, uneven surface.  No way. Those holy warriors must surely have ridden horses or donkeys.  (I would have gladly traded my excellent Zamberlan hiking boots for a donkey.)

This tedious trail descended downhill for several kilometres.

Tiny Bulnes has 3 bars and not much else. We noted the bars.  We did not visit them.

We arrived in Bulnes in time for lunch.  But no leisurely drinks were consumed at any of the three bars; we perched on a stone wall by the side of the trail and gobbled down our cheese sandwiches.  We needed to pick up the pace.  Bruce was absolutely convinced that we would be the very last hikers to arrive in Poncebos. We envisioned the others loping down the mountainside from Urriellu. No. They were probably already in Poncebos having a celebratory beer.  

Hop to it, Ryans!

The last four kilometres, along another spectacular gorge, were undoubtedly the best part of the walk.  The path overlooking Canal del Textu gradually descended while snaking along ledges far above the water .  It was deemed "not suitable for those afraid of heights" but we were in such a rush we hardly noticed.  We almost forgot to take pictures.

Our last descent....

The Puente del Zardo, where the trail crosses to the other side.

Just a few more steps to the Bar Garganta del Cares 

At about 3:30, we arrived at the bar expecting to join our friends. But the place was empty except for one other couple that we recognized from the hotel.    They had not come from Urreillu, nor had they walked from Sotres.  They had shortened their route somehow and were now relaxing alone at an outdoor table.

So.... where were the others?  We twiddled our fingers, we had a drink and finally we phoned S-cape and asked about the rest of our group.  No one had seen Roz and Ian or the Dutch hikers.  We all concluded that they would be picked up later since they were probably still on the trail. I generously did not make a point of discussing this detail with Bruce.

At about 6 that evening we heard Roz and Ian's story of walking directly down from Urreillu.  Of the 30 or so hikers at the refugio, they were the only ones to take this path.  Our four Dutch friends gave it a try and turned around when they came to a tricky section that involved rock-climbing down a cliff.  (No ropes. Nothing to grab onto-- just careful placing of fingers and toes. No way!)

Roz and Ian confirmed that it was a difficult, steep, badly maintained track, and that we had probably made the right decision.  The descent had taken them twice as long to complete as they had anticipated. 

But they did it!  And we were not surprised.  At 70+ they are fit and have loads of stamina. 

Yeah Gibsons!! 

Roz and Ian Gibson.  Super hikers, married 50 years!

      

A Perfect Picu: Naranjo de Bulnes

We had walked into Sotres and we intended to walk back, returning to Poncebos so that we could get a ride to Arenas where we had started our circular hiking holiday 10 days previously.

But first we had to climb to the Vega de Urriellu (a mountain refuge) at the foot of Naranjo de Bulnes, one of Spain's most iconic picos.

Climbers go to the top. We just intended to go to the base of this famous peak.

We intended to stay at the refuge, and then walk back down.

But then I noticed a detail in S-cape's notes about the return from Urriellu to Poncebos.  Descent:  1900 metres.  Hmmmm.... what I recalled from my first cursory reading of these notes (back in Guelph) was Descent: 900 metres.  Very do-able.   Where did that extra 1000 some from?

 Aaaagh!!

I am probably capable of descending 1900 metres, but I knew that the track would be tricky as well as long and steep.  I also knew I would need to proceed at my own pace, and I didn't want to slow  fellow hikers who would also be walking down from the refuge.  So....feeling a bit wimpy, I bailed on our night at the Vega de Urriellu, and came up with a new plan: walk to the refugio, return to Sotres, spend the night in the hotel, and walk the next day from Sotres to Poncebos on a different route.  Truth to tell,  Bruce was fine with this new scheme.  He knew that the refuge was unheated, without electricity, and that we would be sleeping in bunk rooms with up to 100 strangers.

In order to shorten the walk, Roz and Ian and Bruce and I took the S'cape SUV to Pandebano, a mountain valley that is the standard starting point for most hikers heading for Urriellu.  We could walk the 5 kms to the top and return with plenty of time to pick up our ride back to Sotres.

Urreillu beckons as we began the trek from Pandebano.

No looking down!

That's Roz chugging up the track. 

Almost there...

Then Bruce began to worry that we would not get back to Pandebano in time to meet our S'cape driver.  So after a hasty lunch among the rocks, we sent Roz and Ian ahead to the refuge and we began the descent.

The return was faster than we anticipated.  Perhaps we were more familiar with the track. Or anxious to keep our 5:00 o'clock deadline.  We were also being pursued by a huge gang of eager, curious goats who wanted to be our new BFFs. We were not quite so keen. They must have known about the lunch leftovers in our packs.

Lunch?  Did someone say lunch?

    

On the way back....

....to Pandebano.  We arrived an hour early. 

That night, we were the only S'cape couple in the hotel dining room.  Ordinarily the staff prepared one standard (and very nice) multi-course, meaty meal for the entire group.  But as their only guests, we were given soup, a main course (omelet and vegetables) and dessert (flan, rice pudding or ice cream).  This was the first time we had been served vegetarian fare (very likely prepared for convenience) but we put it down to Bruce's directive each day for our packed lunch: "por favor un picnic con bocadillos de queso. No carne."  We weren't really being picky.  Our cheese sandwiches were tasty enough without the addition of salami.

And so was the omelet, washed down with an entire bottle of very drinkable red wine.  The standard S'cape dinner for 2 to 4 people always came with a bottle of wine!

We thought of Roz and Ian in their chilly mountain-top refuge.  I had loaned Roz my long woolen sweater.  At least I could claim that it stayed the night on Urreillu even if I was sitting in the warm  hotel dining room drinking Roz's share of rioja.            

Trekking from Sotres

From Sotres, we were able to access some really marvelous hiking trails.

Back to Sotres at the end of the day.

At lower levels, we went on picturesque farming tracks and footpaths through beech woods and meadows.

Don't disturb the horses...

Following other paths, we climbed beyond the tree line into a landscape of rock and sky.

An elemental landscape

In spite of the signposts, we are about to become lost.  (photo supplied by fellow hikers, Arjan and Amke)

The three mountain masses (massifs) that comprise the Picos are of limestone, which makes for much different experience than hiking in the mostly-granite Rockies.  Limestone erodes in rainwater, so we saw interesting formations -- caves and sinkholes, but no tarns (small mountain lakes) and no waterfalls.  No wonder we sometimes felt as if we were hiking in the mountains of the moon.

What did make the walks above Sotres interesting was evidence of mining.  These lead and zinc mines closed down in the early 20th century, but horizontal shafts, tailings ponds, abandoned equipment, and even a few empty houses still testify to an industry long gone.

Through the arch to the Rufugio de Andara...locked and unoccupied.

 

A mining ghost town

Sotres Sojourn

By the time we hiked over to Sotres the weather was gradually improving. Good. We were to have 3 days of trekking from this new location.  Although the fog lingered, at least it was not raining as we made our way on farm tracks and cattle trails from Espinama through the Aliva valley.

Ermita de Aliva.  This lonely trail-side chapel is only open on holidays.

 

No fertilizer/fertilizer?  We decided that these are grazed and ungrazed fields.

Sotres is the highest village in the Picos.  We trudged uphill on a tarmac road and found the tiny town perched on a cliff, overlooking a valley.   The main street seemed to consist of nothing but a few bars and hotels clustered around a recycling centre and a public laundry/wash-house. 

 Sotres is perched cliffside (stock photo).

Our hotel, Hotel Sotres, was on the edge of town but easy to find.  No GPS required. 

Looking down the main street from our hotel.  The single storey wash-house is surrounded by SUVs..

We had all our meals at the hotel, and they even made us lunch.  This was just as well since there appeared to be no grocery store. (One souvenir shop sold cheese, t-shirts, and scratchy hand-knitted woolen socks.)  We asked about the lack of amenities and were told that supplies were available at an outdoor market once a week.  Bread was delivered daily.   We confirmed this at breakfast as we watched the arrival of the bread truck from the dining room window. It came and left in about 5 minutes.  Had we wanted a loaf of pan we would have had to be very quick.

A farm on the outskirts of Sotres appears to have arranged for bread delivery

We walk back into Sotres after a day on the trail.

Although the main street offered very little, the village itself was pretty with small houses and apartments on the nearby streets.  I walked around the town and formulated a few generalities:

1. New or old, all village houses look alike with stone/stucco walls and tile roofs. (There must be municipal guidelines that enforce this rustic consistency.)

Stone walls, tile roof and flower boxes: check, check and check.  

This house had a solar panel, and a pretty garden. Extra points.

2.  Most residents are male and middle-aged, and at 6:00 pm they are all in the bars having beer and tapas.  Where were the women?  My friend Roz thought she knew.  They were at home preparing the unnecessarily large, multi-course dinners that would be consumed at 9 o'clock!

3.  Most residents own SUVs.  For such a small town there seemed to be an overabundance of vehicles, but I suppose people need to have a way to get to work or school, or just visit the dentist or get their hair cut.  Visiting hikers are surely the only ones hoofing it in and out of Sotres.   

When our S-scape representative Marie  dropped in to the hotel I asked her what Sotres was like in the winter.  Was there enough snow to support ski tourism?   There are very heavy snowfalls, she told me, but Sotres is close to the coast and the snow melts so quickly that it can be dangerous. There is very little skiing.

In fact, she and her family will be moving to Arenas for the winter so that her children are not at risk from avalanches as they are driven home from school.  She added that many people leave for the winter. If they are lucky they find seasonal work in Bilbao or other towns on the coast. Only about 60 residents remain behind.

I hope that weekly market is year-round;  I hope the bread truck has winter tires!    

Potes: a medieval town in the Picos

After four days of extreme hiking, we were more than ready for a day off.

We could have simply made excuses and wimped out.  But there was no need.  We were rescued by the weather.   A welcome rainy day provided a legitimate excuse to seek a non-hiking option, and luckily there was a very good one nearby.  Potes, a well-preserved medieval village, was just up the road from our new home base in Espinama.

Let it rain....we will explore Potes

The River Deva

Potes is old in a way that is almost incomprehensible to Canadians. (Once upon a time, I recall being very impressed that an Edmonton friend lived in a really old house --built 40 years ago!)   But Potes was already experiencing a building boom in the 9th century when the Romans took advantage of its strategic location at a confluence of four valleys and two rivers.

A former mill on the Deva

A very old wall spans a very old street

Most of the buildings that now give the town its character, however, date from the 15th century and later.  Their exteriors appear largely unchanged, so what remains is a picturesque, historic little town. And it is little. Only 1,500 people live here.   

Nevertheless, the information bureau in the main square is huge -- an indication of just how many tourists love authentic rustic charm.

Potes on a rainy day

Medieval "row houses"-- still occupied.

Potes is no living history museum, however.  Wander through the narrow, twisty streets and you will be walking where the locals live, shop and do business.  These residents must surely feel annoyed that nosey tourists unabashedly gawk and take photographs of their private spaces.  Unless they own a cafe or souvenir shop, that is.

Tiny shops on tiny streets

Because after we have peered around every corner, admired every flowery window box, and walked down every cobblestone lane, that is where we will be hanging out, avoiding the rain while we wait for the bus.

We watched a standoff between a Mercedes and a BMW at this narrow corner.  The Mercedes won.