In the Picos: Flora, Fauna and Other Signs of Life.

European mountains are not at all like the Rockies of my childhood, and the differences are not hard to spot.  Even casual hikers, without reference to geology or history, can easily identify what makes these Old World mountains unique.  The Picos, for example, are somehow "prettier", especially at lower altitudes. The landforms are softer and trees and flowers are in greater variety.  And compared to the Rocky Mountains they are certainly less wild,  more accessible, and much more domesticated.   People have made this place their home for centuries and longer--and the evidence is everywhere.

The ubiquitous SUV.  Not what we expected to find after we slogged our way to the top....  

How would you know you were in Spain's most famous mountains (and not in Banff National Park)?  Easy.  These three features distinguish the Picos:

The Built Environment  
In the Picos, stone is the favoured building material. There are stone paths, stone fences, and stone buildings.  If it is any kind of building at all, it will be made of stone with a tile roof, and it will likely be on the hiking trail.

An abandoned mining town entirely constructed of local materials

Not a concrete (stone) chaise conveniently placed by the trail but an empty cattle trough.  

This stone church, which is open on holidays, stands alone in the middle of nowhere. 

Picturesque, falling-down stone barns are everywhere.

The Vegetation
I didn't know what sort of trees would grow in these mountains. But at lower levels where the climate is almost Mediterranean, we passed through oak and beech forests and Ian recognized a hornbeam, a tree I knew only through literature. 

As for flowers, it was so late in the season I expected none at all. We could see evidence of summer blooms: drifts of spent wildflowers and numerous hip-covered rose bushes festooned the trails and nearby meadows.  We could imagine how beautiful this region would be in July, but the walking would have been unbearably hot.  In September, we enjoyed cooler weather and even a few flowery surprises.

Heather was in full bloom. 

     

The Spanish name of this low-growing autumn crocus means "picnic time is over."

The last of the summer poppies. 

The Wildlife
The S-cape literature actually suggested that hikers might encounter wild animals -- boar, deer, marten, badgers, foxes, wolves, and bears--though perhaps not during the day.  Bears?  Small Cantabrian brown bears, apparently. But I was skeptical.  I was pretty sure I would not be seeing any bears, or any other wild creatures for that matter. But I could guess the sort of wildlife that we would  encounter. 
    

Elk? Deer?  What are these horned creatures?

Bruce makes a friend.  (This horse always hangs out in the same spot on the trail.  He is looking for treats) 

Who needs to see a griffon vulture when this handsome fellow walks across your path?

Lunch?  Do someone say lunch?  A huge goat gang swarmed us on the trail. 

These are Asturian sheep. They have lovely long legs but scratchy wool.

I asked our S-cape contact Maria about the promised wild animals, and I listed all the farm critters we met while trekking.  "Well", she said,  "we know there are wolves. One of them took a sheep last night."  Oh dear. So sorry for your loss, ewe guys. No wonder that trail-side flock had seemed nervous.

One domestic animal was a night-time fixture for our entire Spanish sojourn. You might say this creature dogged us.  From Madrid to Granada, and in the Picos for sure, a faithful mutt outside our window barked and yipped and howled and whimpered. All night long. By the time we got to Granada and heard the same midnight welcome, I was convinced that our personal Picos pups had been in touch with their doggy southern relatives: Say HELLOOOOOO to Bruce and Nancy!  We LOOOOOVE them!

MUTT:  Please forgive my barking. I am a dog.  It is what I do.  NANCY:  No problem at all, sweetheart!  I got used to it.  You are probably just lonely. Would you like to come home with me? 

        

  


  

Hiking in the Picos de Europa

When we told folks we would be hiking in Spain, they immediately assumed we were going on one of the Camino de Santiago's famous pilgrim routes.  "No", I would respond, hoping that I didn't sound too worldly. "But we are hiking in mountains near the Bay of Biscay not too far from pilgrim paths."

Did that count?  I don't think so.  No-one had ever heard of the Picos de Europa.

We only had 12 days for the hiking part of our holiday. That wouldn't get us far on the 800 km Camino, but we could readily hike 90-or-so km from village to village in the Picos. We were, after all, looking for a (mountain) peak experience: inspiring scenery, alpine flora and fauna,  physical challenge and perhaps a few thrills as we traversed a narrow ridge or negotiated a precipitous descent.  The Picos offers all these opportunities and also the pleasure of exploring the tiny villages in this unique region. 

Scenery to soothe

and inspire.

When hiking in Europe we are usually completely independent;  we make our own arrangements, cook our own food, and plan our own itinerary.  This time, however, we decided to contract out some of our chores to one of several companies who organize outdoor adventures in the Picos. They would book our hotels (and meals), make sure our bags arrived on time, and provide an itinerary for 10 days of trekking that would take us from one central location (Arenas de Cabrales) to three other mountain villages and then back to Arenas.

On the trail above Arenas

 
We wondered if, in our dotage, we were selling out by having S-cape do the heavy lifting for us. But we soon discovered we were not their only customers.  All the younger hikers who were walking this circular route had also organized their holiday through this is or a similar company.  It was the only sensible option, and it guaranteed a good meal, a decent bed, and no huge packs to carry.

Most importantly, our thick package of S-cape materials included detailed maps and directions for all the self-guided adventures we might want to experience-- treks that would allow us to explore a new destination for a day or two, and treks that would get us to our next village following a combination of farm tracks, back roads, marked hiking trails and ancient stone footpaths. The lengthy notes with directives such as "Walk through archway with old mining wagon on top.  At fork go right (stony pathway, up hill toward hut) for 50 metres" would ensure that we always knew where we were.  That was the theory.  It worked most of the time.

But one one occasion, while hiking toward Pico San Carlos, we did not go right.  We went left and eventually found ourselves lost and alone in a moonscape of rock and sky.

Is that the Bay of Biscay in the distance?  One rock looks like another, and we have made a wrong turn...   

We eventually found our way down.  But we learned a lesson: Follow Directions.  The hiking might be "self-guided",  but it is nevertheless ill-advised to become creative while interpreting the instructions. 

Ian consults our maps.

After a full day on the trail we enjoyed comparing trekking tales with the other younger S-capers. We particularly enjoyed talking to Gerda and Anton and Amke and Arjan.  They were Dutch and their English was very good (our Dutch was worse than our Spanish), so they understood perfectly when we asked if they had had trouble finding their way out of Collado San Carlos. "Oh no", they assured us.  "We have GPS".

 Youth and GPS?  Life is so unfair.     

Magnificent Madrid

Having prepared inadequately for our trip to London earlier this year, this time I did my homework. To this end, I more-or-less memorized the important bits of Rick Steves' Spain. With only two full days in Madrid, I knew exactly what we should see and do: visit three art galleries and one palace.  Hang out in the main square.  Explore the old town.  (I also knew that the agenda would not include any kind of shopping -- no visits to markets or the huge and tempting El Corte Ingles department store. Best to get that into my head from the start.)

In any case, who had time to shop?  Madrid is a magnificent city for galleries!  Even tourists who don't like art should take time for:

Prado.  After the Louvre, the Prado is the best art gallery in Europe, and (no surprise) the very best for Spanish artists:  Jean Miro, El Greco, Goya, and my personal favourite, Velasquez  He captures the personality of his subjects so well that you pay attention to the person, and not just to their over-the-top baroque wardrobe.

Thyssen, aka the Thyssen-Bornemisa. I had never heard of this gallery but it has a fine collection of impressionist art, and because it is not the Prado, it is not a tourist mecca. Rick Steves' observes that the Thyssen has "lesser art by great artists, and great art by lesser artists".  That means you will not have to wait your turn to see that gorgeous Van Gogh, the one you didn't even know existed.       

Reina Sofia.  In a word: Guernica. Even if you can't stand Picasso, you need to stand in front of this huge, controversial painting -- one of the most important art works of the 20th century.

And then, 20 minutes from our hotel in the other direction, there was El Palacio Real.  By the time we got to the Royal Palace, we were accustomed to pretty buildings.  Madrid is a showcase for classically baroque architecture, but the palace, completed in 1755 and still in use, outdoes them all.  It is uber-ornamented. Thank goodness we did have not go through all 3,000+ rooms.

A portion of the pulchritudinous palacio. 

As it was, we saw enough rooms, chambers and anterooms chockablock with painted rococo ceilings, gorgeous furniture, china and clocks (the royal family apparently has a thing for timepieces) to bring on a diabetic coma.  I rather liked the un-ornamented pharmacy with its shelves and shelves of tidy jars and  hand-labelled pots and bottles.  Had I been the queen, I would have sneaked down there just to clear a brain overstimulated by too many cupids and pink clouds.
 
Our own antidote to wedding-cake architecture was a walk through the old quarter just outside our hotel. 

Our tiny hotel, El Pasaje, was on a tiny street.  If a car had come by, Ian would have had to jump into the doorway.

Some of our neighbourhood establishments were very picturesque indeed, even if they were merely old and not baroque. The charming bookstore and nearby Villa Rosa flamenco club are among Madrid's oldest businesses, apparently.  A few tiles, intricate stone work, some flowers and fancy grillwork = rustic charm.

Ros, Ian and Bruce check out the bookstore.

The Villa Rosa, with its totally tiled facade, is a great place for flamenco.  Not that we went....

We did take a break from our museum and gallery-going to join all the locals in the huge Plaza Major for drinks and tapas on a Sunday afternoon.

See and be seen at the Plaza Major, and bring the family!

We ate, admired the architecture, watched people come and go, and checked out the buskers. There were some very strange street entertainers in the Plaza, but none weirder than a sulky, overweight Spiderman.  I'll never know what he was up to -- he sauntered off while we watched.  His Spidey-sense must have told him it was time to find another web.

That's Spidey in Plaza Major having a smoke break.

***

Travel Tip:  Unless you really are doing a walk-through in a gallery or museum, get one of the hand-held audio-guides.  Find the number attached to a work of art, punch it in, and listen. Without the need to focus, we would have wandered from room to room for two days, learning nothing. 

Hola Espana!

Spain?  Really?

It's true. It had not occurred to us to consider Spain as a holiday/hiking destination until we knew that our NZ friends, Ros and Ian, were going to be there for the 20th International Congress of Nutrition.  They convinced us: September was the perfect time to visit.  There would be great weather and fewer tourists (unless you count the 4,000 nutritionists). We could hang out in Madrid for a couple of days, head up north for some spectacular hiking in the Picos de Europa, nip over to Bilboa for shot of culture, and then end our trip exploring Granada--providing congress attendees left us at least one empty hotel room.

We were easily persuaded, and we did have a wonderful holiday!

By the time we packed our bags to leave, we had even adapted (sort of) to peculiar Spanish meal times. Ros noted at that eager American delegates at the Congress were waiting in vain, all hopeful, for breakfast at 7 a.m. The more usual 8:30 desayuno suited us just fine, but it took our entire holiday to convince our stomachs that a 9 p.m.dinner-time was acceptable.  Any earlier and we were marked as tourists. We might as well have walked into a restaurant in head-to-toe Tilley, with a Canadian maple leaf sewn onto our backpack.  

They knew we were tourists; no need to advertise.