The walk from Gijon to Aviles is famous for being ugly and industrial and mostly on highway so we asked Nardo and Belen to drop us off in Cudillero, about 20K past Aviles, a beautiful little port at the bottom of a very steep hill. It being Sunday afternoon, the entire town was closed and locked, except for the restaurants, cafes, and sidrerias in the harbor which were busy attending to the summer rush of beachgoers. Unfortunately, we would not be among those lounging under cafe umbrellas with cold drinks. We left the pretty scene behind as we climbed up out of the town which gave way to treelined roads with bus shelters and scrap yards, passing under train bridges.
The blue tile on the wall points our way.
Our stomachs called for lunch when we saw a cute hotel with restaurant overlooking the water, advertising special meals for pilgrims. More tempting was the Formula 1 race showing on the bar TV, an exciting race in torrential rain. However, the staff seemed confused about the pilgrim lunch and told us we would have to eat in the fancy and expensive-looking dining room which looked set for a wedding banquet. Instead we took our dusty shoes and not-so-clean clothes outside for a picnic on a chapel wall.
Here we were very close to the rocky shore but the path led, as ever, away from the tempting beach and into woods on a sometimes muddy and often prickly path which eventually dropped us back on the old 632, an abandoned narrow asphalt road which used to be the main highway but which has now been replaced by modern highway and sees very little traffic other than pilgrims and tractors. We enjoyed a fairly uneventful walk into Soto de Luiña where our guide instructed us to find a specific bar with information about the albergue. Might as well have a beer while we´re at it.
The albergue, in an old school building, was nearly full, but we managed to score two top bunks next to eachother when a couple who had already stayed one night was kicked out by the balding hostalero. This is a strict rule, one night only and you must leave in the morning to make way for the next wave of pilgrims. The albergue was clean and bright, but only the mens shower functioned. One shower for 24 people created quite a queue, and the ladies had to shower while men used the toilet. We later saw the same hostalero working at the pilgrim bar, then at another restaurant. We think he must also be the mayor.
Albergue de Peregrinos in Soto de Luiña
Have we mentioned the lazy bicyclist? We first met this character in his underwear, cooking dinner at the albergue in Sebrayo days before and now again he was with us in Soto de Luiña, again relaxed and cooking a meal, a bottle of sider on the table. Normally we meet a bicyclist once and then never see them again because they can travel so far in one day. This lazy guy cycles the same distance as other pilgrims walk each day, always arriving first at the albergue, always first to get a bed, and with plenty of time to chill at the beach, buy groceries, cook dinner. Luxuries granted by time which most pilgrims dont have. He will be a recurring character.
This was a very exciting night, we sat in the pilgrim bar writing, drinking tiny tumblers of excellent 50-cent wine, and watching a tennis match on television with a growing group of Spaniards, young and old who seemed transfixed. It was the final at Wimbledon between Nadal and Federerer. We had to wait for the only restaurant in town to open at 8:30 for dinner. We found the match on also in the restaurant, an historic match which went on for hours during which time noone left the room. When Nadal finally won it was heroic, the whole place erupted. Spain is on a roll. During dinner, a rainstorm passed quickly overhead casting a full rainbow across the arc of the sky.
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