Cicera to Potes 24 km

Had the best nights sleep yet, even though I’d dozed off in the afternoon. As I was the only person in the place, and I’d asked Grego for breakfast at 8:00, I’d thought I’d better be there as I could hear him downstairs. His opening gambit had been breakfast at 9:30, so he was missing a lie in. I could hear noise downstairs, so headed for the bar. What I should mention, is that last night the big group from the Cades albergue came in, they had prebooked and taken over  the restaurant. The amount of food, and the size of the traditional dishes (1m dia pans) that came out of a tiny kitchen from one lady was amazing. I fell asleep hearing them singing so it might have been a late night.

It was a very orange breakfast, and incredibly high in vitamin C. Orange juice, a orange, and toast with marmalade. There were two orange coloured cakes I snaffled for later. We said our goodbyes and I headed off into absolutely beautify weather. Slightly chilly in the shade but the route just climbed. Luckily it was in the shade almost all the way, but I still overheated. The first 2.5 km was up through ancient woods and scrambling over rocks. It was amazing but took an hour of sweat. It reminded me of my second day in Sussex, there were beech nuts everywhere and even some mud!

When I got to the top, I was thinking about yhe guys last night heading off at about 3pm heading to possible accomodation 12km away. That climb would have slowed them down  priest or not. That said, there were nice camping spots at the top, so I would have been alright, Jack!

The route dropped down, even lower than I started into a valley. The map promised a cafe, which alas was closed, but I sat eating cakes and water. I’m more aware of water, since the warnings at the albergue, but Open Street Map has water points marked. A couple have been defunct, so I don’t drink all my water knowing there is a tap around the corner, but it’s really useful compared to the Ordnance Survey which don’t show it on UK maps.

Somewhere around this point, there seemed to be lots of dogs loose. None of them caused much of a problem, just a lot of noise, except one collie. He seemed friendly enough until I got passed him, and he crept up on me and bit my ankles/calf. He did it twice. I’m still not sure exactly what happened, and it may of been his claws not teeth, but no blood was drawn, and my fear of dogs remains even higher.

It started to get hot, and the climbing resumed. Luckily, I’m not sure how, I managed to end up on a different route through a shadey forest next to a rocky stream cascading down the mountain. The map suggested I could get back on route, and some red paint arrows suggested I may not even be off the route at all. I certainly couldn’t conceive of where I went wrong. I’m sure there was a marker sending me down the footpath.

I think it was fortune, it was really nice and shorter (in plan view) than the official line I had. This brought me close to Cabanes, where the guys were heading last night, it had taken me just short of 4 hours. I hope they made it. The next section was through the most amazing trees, they look so old yet continually responding. The area was called Castaña de El Habario, a quick google says they are ancient chestnut trees over 200 years old, some with a trunk circumference of 12 metres. They certainly caught my attention.

From here on, it was generally down on quiet lanes. There was one bizarre incident, when in one village there was a man with a table of cheeses, he was dressed in full cheese gear, including a straw boater. Bearing in mind, I hadn’t seen anyone all day it was a shock. At the same time a Yorkshire Terrier was barking at me and running around my ankles. I didn’t feel in the mood to browse cheeses. I don’t think I was his ideal customer. Another interesting feature were the vineyards, that were just sprouting, but were not being grown on wires. Must be a complete jungle of in a few months.

I was soon near Potes, my target. I noticed, what looked like a country hotel with water park, obviously it wasn’t but it was the smartest sewage treatment works I’ve every seen. Fancy traditional buildings, chrome handrailing and ladders (like in a swimming pool), and no smell. It soon became apparent that the small road I’d been walking on, must have been new, courtesy of the need for a new pipeline to the treatment works. There were nice Cantabrian manhole covers the whole way, with suspicious looking shelters that had switchgear hidden. A really nice job.

I soon got to Potes, battling through the cars and coaches awaiting the imminent departure of a big school. The town square was busy, with sounds systems and lightly shows being set up around the church. I wonder if it is for the ending of the Lebaningo jubliee year. If Jean Michel Jarre opened it, who will close it?

I took the opportunity to stop, eat and shop. But I ate first, tortillas and chorizo. I must admit to being slight disappointed not to get a plate of Doritos, but the egg tortilla was excellent, with two cokes. I was so hot and sweaty! Unfortunately, due to eating, I missed the supermercado which shuts at 3 (I don’t know why, I think it should have been open), anyway a discount hardware store provided some nail clippers, a bag of nuts and a beer. So I felt I should make the 1.5km to the campsite.

A lovely campsite for €11. Picked a pitch next to a shelter with plug sockets, and pitched the tarp almost perfectly. It’s like origami, it should fold into the perfect triangular pyramid shape. On good ground and with time I achieved it. I sussed out the facilities, then decided I should visit the monastery. It was another 25 minutes up the scorching hill, bit no pilgrimage should be easy. I’d switched my boots for my birkenstocks, so it was a nice slow walk.

There was a pilgrim office there, so I got an extra stamp (I already had a campsite one), and had a chat with the girl. She was impressed at how far I’d walked (“more than most” was her rather underplayed comment) and warned that there were no services moving forward. I would need to carry food and water. I’ve looked at the maps and think it is a bit overplayed and more about having a packed lunch. It’s not very remote. I’ll plan for the worst and expect the best, as usual.

It was then time to look around the Monastery of Santo Toribio de Liébana. It’s located high on a hill, has a really nice feel (especially cooling  down at 5pm on a Thursday) and few buildings are open. The cloisters were nice, with some more modern art and recreations of older sculpture.

Next was the church. I inadvertently entered through the Door of Forgiveness, which I thought was only opened evert 100 years. Wikipedia says “The principal door, the Puerta del Perdón (Door of Forgiveness) is only ever opened during each Jubilee Year when Saint Turibius’ day coincides with a Sunday.”. Which is only every seven, or so, years. I’m confused, but looking at the hinges, I can believe seven, rather than 100. Nevertheless, its a magnificent door and is the main door so it must be nice when it’s open, and a pain when it’s not. Nevertheless, regardless of the time frame, by entering it all my sins have been forgiven. It seemed to have more power knowing that I’d walked all the way there.

Its a lovely simple church, until you turn into the side Chapel that contains the relics from the “True Cross”. Its housed in a magnificent altarpiece. I thought I was looking for a small bit at the bottom of the gold Cross, but it turns out it is most of the Cross (2 lengths about 600mm and 300mm, thanks google) made up of the left arm of the original cross  and it has nail holes. It’s quite amazing to think about, if it’s true. The logistics and keeping it safe for so long, amazing. I sneaked a picture, but there are better pictures on-line.

I left by another door, I didn’t want to risk picking up the sins of others and walked back to the campsite. Is nice not walking in boots and having a pack. At the campsite was a task I have been looking forward to for days. Doing my laundry. After days of rain, hand washing, things not drying quite right, I was ready for a fresh start. Sitting down for dinner in the campsite resturant in clean clothes, it was lovely. Tomorrow, I head off on a new Camino. The Camino Vadiniense. I haven’t found out too much about it, other than it heads high into the Picos, and then drops into the plain. I guess I’m in for a voyage of discovery.