I hate to do this, but I think I’m going to finish up Portugal this week. I will decide the best course of action tomorrow.

The weather is making this simply horrendous. We get moments of beauty, but mostly it’s just very hard. It doesn’t help at all that we’re not getting proper meals. Restaurant times are much stricter than in Spain. We keep missing lunchtime by minutes only to wait far too long for things to be open for dinner.

Today we bought our prepaid SIM cards for Portugal, had a misunderstanding with the woman in the kiosk next to where our bikes were parked, then hit the road to Guimaraes, which was supposed to be a charming old city with a dominating castle. Traffic was awful getting there, so instead of stopping, we decided to head for Amarante and an interesting modern art museum I had really wanted to see.

We arrived and parked next to the flooded river, only to find that the Museum was on its lunch break, so we went to the nearest snackbar to eat something. Surprisingly, those little sandwiches were delicious, the bread excellent.

We went back to the museum, but were told it was closed. Dick had misread the guidebook and I had not fully read the sign on the door.

We drove south to the Douro river, which ends at Oporto, and along which are beautiful roads and lots and lots of vineyards growing the grapes used to make Port wine (which I adore). It was a beautiful route, and would have been much better on a dryer day.

After following the river east for a while, we veered back up north towards Vila Real, where we’d planned two nights at a campsite with a small bungalow.

Small is right! If it were a parking hut, we’d have a hard time fitting both bikes in here!

The views from here are lovely, though, and there was some very nice vinho verde available in the bar/restaurant (and a disappointing meal).

Tomorrow we have arranged to spend the day on a private tour, possibly by boat as well as by car, to go to some wineries and to hear about the area. I think this will make everything all better.

Rained in!

For our ride today we utilised to our benefit the ancient secrets of the Amsterdam rain gods: wear rain gear and see no rain!

Not quite true, actually. We got a few sprinkles and some very dark overhanging clouds, but it was a lovely ride south from Lugo. I will have to look up Ourense in my guidebook later. It looked like a very pleasant city. Of course, it was Saturday between two different storm fronts, so everyone was out running and taking advantage of the temporarily clear skies, but our small highway (we skipped the main highway) took us right through, along the river, and I got the impression of lots of green spaces and a lot of relaxation.

The last bit of Spain before we entered Portugal was a national park, and like all other parks before, it was lovely. It reminded me of a bit of the forest in Snoqualmie pass, where years ago Lynn C (to distinguish her from Lynn L, who will join me next week) and I went overnight camping in a van sometime in the 90s.

One major difference, however, is that although you have lots of lovely hills and gently winding wide roads here, with lots of trees, mostly evergreens (I’m not as good as some people I know at distinguishing types of trees at a distance at speed) and some deciduous, with ferns everywhere, occasionally I’d round a bend and see a palm tree. 😀

Something else I’ve seen a lot of on this trip: One Tree Hills. Fortunately, I don’t know most of the words to that song, so it hasn’t been in my head. Today I mostly had the Beatles in my head, strangely enough. I can’t remember which song. Right now we’re in a cafe-galerie and The Doors are playing. We are eating a really awful cheese platter and drinking some delicious Portuguese beer.

Observations on Portuguese driving:
1. Stop signs are apparently just a suggestion. I thought I was about to be hit from the side several times in the short drive from the border to Braga.
2. Roundabouts, although common, scare the shit out of them. They slow nearly to a stop at each approach, but then accelerate so hard with swerving and nonsensical lane changes that it’s impossible to predict what they will do.
3. They are nowhere nearly as good at road communication as the Spanish. No turn signals, no moving to the side to let someone they think is going faster pass easily, and much more tailgating.

Separate observation not only reserved for the Portuguese as a group, but also observed in Spain:
It’s odd that in two countries with such gorgeous terrain, you get so many people who are apparently terrified to drive on curvy roads. Speed limit: 90. Suggested speed for upcoming gentle curve: 60. My comfortable speed, on a motorcycle, because the road is wet: 50. A few cars in both places: 25 and swerving nervously all over the road, slamming on the brakes mid-curve. This is actually really dangerous for me, because even if I’m following at a good distance, the sudden braking usually decreases the distance just when to be safe I should be accelerating, not braking. So I have to increase my distance even more, which means someone else gets frustrated and starts tailgating me, or passes me, then stuck behind the other person, then causing the same problem all over again. Argh. Sometimes I want to pull people off the road and explain to them why they are causing more of a road hazard in their attempts to be careful. I’m hoping that they are actually not locals, but in rental cars (plates were Spain and Portugal) or borrowed cars, because if you live somewhere like this, you should know better than to ride the brakes this much.

Enough road talk. We made it to Braga, checked into our hotel, got an apparent upgrade to a corner suite, and went for a walk just as the rains came down. I had the foresight to ask if they had any extra umbrellas just as we left, and they lent us a small one. Our heads stayed dry while our butts and legs got soaked. Not really true, as I’m wearing a skirt. The skirt took most of it. Dick says he’s all wet, though.

We tried to go to Vodafone for prepaid sim cards, but it was closed (after 13:00 Saturday), then we stopped for a coffee and to get our bearings. I used my first Portuguese phrase — badly, but it amused the older man who made our coffees.

Then we walked into the center, and it rained harder, so we stopped for another coffee and very very sweet pastries, yum! There was no point in using Portuguese here, as the people were all very used to stupid tourists.

After that we went to the Museu Pio XII, where we looked at ancient Roman things from this area and of course lots and lots of Virgin Marys. Then we climbed the tower and looked at another Mary, and the view. It was a view of wet.

From there, we walked to the Sé Cathedral, where people were entering for Saturday evening Mass.

There was a handmade guitar (and guitar-like instruments) store on the same street, so we went in and admired them. Most of them were quite affordable as well as beautiful, but Dick’s left hand fingernails were a little too long (and I suspect he was shy), so he didn’t want to try one.

The rain was worse when we got out, so we went across the street where we are having beer as I write this.

I have never been so happy to eat a mediocre Caesar salad before.

Since arriving in Spain, much of the food has been delicious, but almost all of it has also been incredibly heavy, and it’s starting to wear on me. I’m not getting much exercise, but every meal has been heavy and every night it’s late and there’s wine or beer or cider to wash it down. But not tonight.

The Triple Triples had to split up this morning. Here we are in the morning, ready to go.

We were also trying to look mean, or bad-ass, or at least not crack up (me).

Matt headed for Madrid. He actually doesn’t need to be there for another day, but he was worried about the weather, so left a day earlier than necessary.

Dick and I were hoping to get somewhere around Lugo, in Galicia, and decide what we’d do based on weather patterns from there.

We rode in the rain all day. When we stopped for lunch in Mondoneda, we took stock. We were both soggy and cold (drizzle doesn’t really penetrate our motorcycle gear, so we hadn’t fully suited up). We decided that a hotel with a hot tub somewhere around Lugo would be best, and hopefully closer to the southern side, because we think the rain storm might be heading north and we could pass under it.

Almost there, the heavy rain hit. So when we checked in we were actually dripping. We changed into swimming suits (and caps — this is an old-fashioned place) and headed for the hot tub. After a long soak, we braved the rain to go to the covered and heated outdoor pool, which was glorious. We swam for a while, then went back through heavier rain to the hot tub. It was a cold sprint through the rain.

Anyway, dinner options were not super thrilling at the bar or restaurant on premises, so we chose the bar, where at least we could dine with more casual company (the restaurant was just stuffier looking, almost the same menu), and Dick had the only two vegetarian tapas — grilled pimientos and a plate of sliced cheese — while I ordered the Caesar salad. It was delicious. We both skipped dessert, and I also skipped a second beer. I feel better already.

Tomorrow we will head into Portugal, but will probably be rained on the entire way. We have to skip Galicia altogether. It’s just too wet. At least heading south we have a slight chance of missing some of the weather. Slight.There’s another front expected to come in on Sunday. I’m not even sure if heading east and south, where I was planning on being in a week or so, would be better.

It’s not that we can’t travel in this. Obviously we can. But we aren’t really getting any nice sightseeing in. We stayed mostly on the main highway today. In the rain, my attention is entirely on the road, the other traffic (it’s light mostly), and my own sensations (cold, often), and definitely not on the things almost invisible through mist.

Wish us luck for tomorrow!

We have seen prehistoric cave drawings up close and personal.

We saw horses, and fallow deer, and reindeer, and goats. We also saw markings that my comprehension was not good enough to be sure about. I thought at first that it was a basic map of the cave system, but I’m no longer sure.

The first cave was Cueva del Buxu, just outside a tiny village to the south of Ribadesella. Cueva del Buxu was high on my priority list because it only admits maximum 25 people per day, and only 4 days per week. It’s off the beaten track, and actually quite difficult to reach, even with independent transportation. Or rather, you can get there, but there’s no where to park and you hike steeply uphill a kilometer in order to access the entrance. We were late, but of course our guide waited for us. There was no one before or after us, so I guess she had time.

It is a smaller cave system, and was probably inhabited by one family group (at a time, over the course of thousands of years), between 20-30 people maximum. It commanded an excellent view over the valley (there are young trees now, which obscure the view), and was probably a permanent residence (this from the guide at the next cave) versus a nomadic residence.

In neither cave were we allowed to take pictures inside, but here we are at the entrance of Cueva del Buxu after the tour:

In many ways, I liked this cave better. There were more things to see, although our guide made it clear that we were not being shown the entire complex (for conservation reasons). The paintings and engravings were smaller and harder to find, but quite clear when they were pointed out. The stalagmites and stalactites were gorgeous, too.

And just because it’s lovely, this is the entrance to the entrance:

The colors of the decorations in Cueva del Buxu are red (iron oxide) and black (charcoal, possibly combined with magnesium? I zoned out sometimes, but Matt thinks so.)

In the Cueva de Tito Bustillo (and his pals — their names are on various parts of the system, which is huge), there was an additional color, purple. I didn’t catch all the words about what made that color. Our guide there spoke slightly more clearly, but incessantly, leaving no time for questions or clarifications. My brain got tired, trying to take in as much as possible so that I could explain things to Matt and Dick that maybe weren’t clear from the exhibit we saw beforehand, and our more patient guide at Buxu.

This second cave system has an excellent museum/exhibition, explaining the findings and development of the cave system. If I had planned better, we would have made it easier on ourselves by going there first, instead of after. As it was, we did a quick mini-tour of the museum before entering the cave, but after we’d already seen the one at Buxu.

For a recommendation, in case anyone reading this is thinking about it: give yourself time to do the Tito Bustillo exhibit first, then the cave, then another cave such as the excellent Cueva del Buxu.

As before, we were not allowed to take photos inside the cave. Also, we were not shown the entire system. In this case, we only saw one room of the cave, which had enormous horses and deer across it. They were beautiful, and wonderful colors. I was curious about some of the other rooms, such as the Camarin de las Vulvas. Yes, you read that right, the vulvas. The pictures were interesting. I’m not sure I would have identified the shapes without question as vulvas, and as a waxer, I’ve seen quite a number of them. However, the literature says that it’s a recurring symbol, and that it is general considered a vulva. Ok.

So here’s Matt and Dick outside the entrance. Oh, and this cave has a river running through it.

We’re expecting a huge storm, and we could feel, after coming out of this complex, that the temperature had drastically cooled. It was still clear, though, so we took the off-highway route back to our hotel in Llanes.

We’re preparing for the incoming storm. Matt has decided that instead of staying with us one more day, he is going to drive to Madrid over two days, because staying with us could potentially make his rain drive longer (if we move on), but if he has two days, and it’s as bad as the reports indicate, he can rest more.

Dick and I are hoping to move on tomorrow, but our destination will very much depend on what the weather maps are showing in the morning.

Meanwhile, we headed into town to find some food. We went to the sidreria (cider bar) that we had most wanted to try yesterday but which had been closed, and it was open: Sidreria el Antoju. And may I say: FABULOUS. The people were friendly, and the food was better than any we’ve had since our first 2 days in Spain (the first pintxos place our hotel host in San Sebastian recommended, and Restaurant Azurmendi, the 3-star Michelin restaurant).

So the thing with the cider is: no matter which way you aerate it (various hand and automatic pumps, or pouring from a distance), you are to drink it immediately while the air is still in it. If you are doing it yourself, the whole bottle might be gone very quickly. If someone is serving it to you, they tend to give you quite a bit of time between servings, which is a quite different experience.

Matt got a little excitedly impatient, and decided to pour us himself, so he took the bottle and a glass to the bucket the proprietor used to catch spills. He was spotted, and chastised (in a very friendly way), and then given a lesson. Much practicing and laughing ensued, but this was the very first pour:

The proprietor said that the trick is to look where you’re pouring it FROM, not the glass. Move the glass to catch it. And it has to be very very high. Matt says also to keep the glass quite tilted, although I noticed that when our host tilted it more, it spilled more, so I’m not so sure.

We had a delicious meal, and a fun time, and left quite happy. There had been a little rain while we were inside, but we’ve gotten back dry. There is some indication that the whole storm has just evaporated, and we’re really hoping so. When we looked before dinner, it was pretty severe, and covered most of the peninsula. Not the best weather for riding!

To be honest, I may have been over-ambitious today. I created a route intended to wind us around various roads and eventually, 4 or so hours later, bring us to some well-preserved and partially reconstructed Roman ruins. However, the roads were somewhat windier, we had a longer lunch stop than planned, and while everything was quite lovely, we didn’t get there until well after 18:00. It didn’t look like it had closed, just that it didn’t have the welcome and info center I expected.

Here are the sights from the road, though, and they were wonderful.
We started out with a Triple selfie at the campsite.

After a bit of easy winding roads through relatively populated areas, we found ourselves, surprise surprise, climbing up up up!

We have decided that it’s not our routes that are doing this; it’s just the country. Wow. This is a really beautiful place. Anyone still reading this is probably getting bored with the repetitive nature of this blog: “Oh look! Here we are at a beautiful vista overlooking mountains and a different sort of flora than 20 minutes ago…” “Oh look! Here we are at another beautiful vista overlooking mountains and a body of water and another different sort of flora and/or fauna than 20 minutes ago…” and on and on.

So we also stopped to admire a windfarm at the top of a group of hills. The roads here were spectacularly dangerous. Windy and narrow on ledges with steep drops on both sides, no barriers or railings most of the time. But we are going really slowly. After all, what’s the hurry?

This graveyard was tiny (yes, not ancient) but at the top of these gorgeous hills as well. The gate was secured with a tied piece of twine, so I just opened it up, went in, took a picture, and fastened it again as I left. Matt didn’t like this as a stopping point, as there wasn’t any place to pull off the road. However, I noticed no one was driving these roads at more than a crawl, and it was in a pretty visible stretch.

Much later, our best find of the day. I spotted a little clearing by a waterfall and a building (I couldn’t see what from the road), and slowed way down to look for a pulling off spot. Indeed, such a spot existed, and we walked down a little path that crossed the river diversion of this old mill. The water went through the building, but the mill stone is where Dick is sitting in this photo. The waterfall was about 3 or maybe 4 meters tall, and is behind me around the bend. The pool was deep enough for a nice splash if it hadn’t been so cold, and we hung out there for probably 40 minutes, just relaxing.

After that was the failed attempt at the Roman ruins, then I got a little over tired. Matt took over the lead and we headed home via the highway, 40 minutes away. The whole day took 11:30- 20:00. We stopped at a supermarket on the way back to our campsite and are grilling right now.

sil valley, mineral rich, villages centro urbano
Ads for the province of Asturias claim that you don’t need to choose between mountain and sea, because you can have both. That was today, mountains and sea. Oh, and Montana (yes, the state).

I woke up exhausted this morning, and the bed was comfortable, so it was hard to get out. In the end, bladder and uncertainty teamed up. I wasn’t sure what time Alejandra, our hostess, expected us to be out. When I went out to the shared bathroom, though, she was making up the beds in the next room, and didn’t seem to be in a hurry, so I stopped worrying and although I didn’t dawdle, I didn’t hurry either. Nor did Matt, who slept very well.

In order to head north, we had to go back into Ponferrada, but this time, interestingly, it was yet another route. We had coffee and Matt had a pastry at a gas station, then we began an ascent, through one type of hills and mountains then another. The first, the Sil valley, had lots of shiny rocks and beautiful dry landscapes to start with. There were dilapidated mining operations all over.

The same valley brought us to various dams and ravines.

But when we left the valley, we entered Montana. I had to pull off to take a picture, and asked Matt how we’d gotten here. Can you see the herd of horses? There were also lots of longhorn cattle.

An interesting note about the old stone villages along the way. My TomTom shows the layout of streets in each village, and so I know exactly how big they are. And yet frequently, they’d have signs telling us where to find the “centro urbano.” It can’t be that urban of an urban center.

The villages are adorable. One was built around a giant jagged wedge of a stone, and there were a couple of cafes, but although it was noon, no one was serving food of any sort, only drinks. And there we’d had such luck earlier in the trip with lunchtime meals. Oh well. The supermarket was open, so we got some picknick supplies and continued on our way.

Next up, and where we at our lunch, was after passing snow along the road that was taller than our heads, wedged out for the road. Rock slides had littered the road with stones of all sizes, up to so big that we have trouble thinking of something comparable in size. You could probably not quite wrap your arms around it. Or if you have short arms, you’d just be giving it a hug.

Anyway, about that viewpoint, I loved the cattle grazing the meadow, visible here on the right.

We crossed into Asturia on that mountain, and found ourselves in another National Park, something Urbinos. If I remember, I’ll look it up later. There are some villages in the national parks, and we were warned by various people on the side of the road that something was ahead of us. We were already going slowly, but we slowed down a lot, and found a small group of young cattle being herded down the road. There were, by the time I got this shot, 3 just to my left, who had been giving their herder so much trouble that I eventually turned off my engine because it seemed to be scaring them. Those ones passed, but the ones in front of me were much easier to get past, so the herder waved us on.

Instead of this picture, I’d like to show you the deep ravine we drove through just before arriving here. This is a prehistory exhibit and park, and also has a herd of wild horses (Polish sounding name), but we didn’t see them. The park has a reproduction of cave drawings, but since we will see real ones in a few days, we ignored it.

The ravine was deep, and steep and all stone, towering above us. The road was clean and smooth, and curved just right. We took it somewhat cautiously anyway, but it was lovely. There was nowhere good to stop for a picture.

We had hoped to catch up with Dick today (or he with us, actually), but at 15:00 we had a message for him, and he was exhausted after a very early start and had just made San Sebastian. So we decided to head for Cudillero, which is a seaside town known for seafood. We are at our first camping site, and set up the tent for the first night. If it’s too cold, we will switch to one of their cabins or elsewhere altogether for tomorrow when Dick joins us. Here is my tent!!!

It’s not a spectacular campsite, but it’s quite near a lovely beach, which we walked to via a winding forest road.

And here’s the beach:

Right now we’re drinking Spanish cider (sidra) in the picknick area of the campsite. It’s damn cold, so as soon as I’m done here I’m crawling into my sleeping bag, with my balaclava on. I let Matt use my gloves as glove liners, so … my hands will be cold. But otherwise hopefully I’ll be ok. If not, we’ll switch to someplace heated in the morning.