First gear

Once you get off the motorways, there are a few narrow windy roads in Portugal.  We drove one of them today along the Douro river.  The road to Treviso in the Picos de Europa tops them all.  *This* must have been the road McCartney was talking about when he wrote that song.

Mum had taken the wheel out of Haro and driven us to Ribadesella, a lovely beach town, for a picnic lunch on the strand.  We had intended to go all the way to the point, but it turns out that's only a walkway (someone should have told Candace).

There were some nice views over the Atlantic and then we were in Bilbao.  We got a little lost and ended up on a nice riverside walk to the Guggenheim.  Lovely bridges, lovely buildings, lovely parks along the way.  The Guggenheim itself is, of course, fabulous, and we had a little visit to El Poop.

And then on to Las Arenas de Cabrales, a nice little town just out of the Picos national park.  We dined out on Fabada, a white bean and smoked meat dish, salad, and a jug of cider sangria before toddling off home and snoring as only a drunk can.

The weather the next day was less than ideal, and the man at the tourist office warned of falling stones if we attempted the Cares Gorge.  All other possible walks were good, with great views - but not today.... Undeterred,  we decided a wee drive was called for.  The narrow, windy roads  (they make those hairpins coming into Queenstown look tame), the mist and rain, and the occasional screech from my mother would have made for a wild ride, if I'd managed to get out of first gear for more than two minutes.

It was actually a very lovely day.  Sotres was sunny and we stopped for lunch here - a plate of local  cheeses and bread.  There was a nice little walk where we saw goats, blackberries, and a blueberry - like plant, cows with bells on walking down the road, cows without bells on, another little walk to a spot where you could see the village of Bulnes  (you can only get there by funicular or a one hour hike.  Apparently the road to Treviso is a dead end so back we went for a dinner of omelete and cider sangria.

Mum and I woke at the crack of dawn and headed out to the Cares Gorge walk.  This was an excellent decision as parking was a breeze and we had the track to ourselves for the first few hours.  It's a very barren landscape with sheer drops where grass grows in impossible places and trees hang on to the slopes by faith alone.  We had to be back by 10.30 so only did half the walk.  I'm quite spoilt for walks at home.  I enjoyed the Cares Gorge, its sparceness is its glory, but it doesn't have anything on tracks like the Routeburn.