Monthly Archives: August 2019

On the hunt…

MARINA SAFARI

Wednesday-Friday, August 7-9, 2019

It all began when the three of us–Robbie, Max and I–took the bus to Santiago de Compostela.

Max and I would tour this famous pilgrim destination with Robbie before he had to catch his train to Madrid. We’d then spend the night and pick up a rental car the next day. The reason for the car was to boost our chances of securing a winter berth in Lisbon.

Based on recommendations from other cruisers we had called Lisbon’s Marina Parque das Naçōes earlier this summer asking about reserving space from October 1 to March 31. They told us they may have a place for us but couldn’t guarantee one. Portuguese boaters returning in the fall, coupled with the lack of good harbors along Portugal’s west coast meant marinas were a valuable commodity. And, Lisbon’s Parque das Naçōes with easy access to the city’s historic old town made it a popular choice both for residents and visitors.

Thinking a face-to-face meeting could help secure a berth, we thought why not do a quick road trip? The timing seemed optimal with JUANONA safe from swells and forecasted winds in Muros’ marina, the chance to see Santiago with Robbie, and a convenient place to pick up/return a rental car.

Plus, on the way back up to Muros, we could scout out any others in the event a berth in Parque de Naçōes seemed unlikely.

After seeing Robbie off Tuesday afternoon we wandered back to Santiago’s old town. Spotting a museum covering the pilgrimages’ history we decided to pay the entrance fee.

No photos allowed so I can’t document our visit (for some, that’s a blessing) but the displays provided the seed of what sprouted all of these walks, namely St. James’ tomb.

History identifies St. James as an apostle,

then pilgrim,

finally, a knight.

The latter justified the Crusades, while the pilgrim character lent itself beautifully to creating a reason for all those caminos or walks to Santiago de Compostela.

St. James’ tomb draws thousands of pilgrims in various stages of soul-searching to this city. And, this revenue-producing stream of folk has caught the financial interest of other towns to ensure they, too, lie on a camino route. Which makes sense considering all the money gained from serving up Saints’ bones, Jesus artifacts, and other sacred items.

But, I digress (again). However, the museum enriches any visitor’s stop in Santiago, one we highly recommend, pilgrim or not.

That was Tuesday afternoon. Wednesday morning our marina hunt began.

In 2.5 days we covered nine marinas. It may not sound like a lot but, but trust me, the rapid pace with which we scouted out the five in Portugal and the four in Spain caused memory blurs. We now have to use prompts, such as ‘no, that was the rat-infested one’, when trying to envision which marina we meant.

After a five-hour drive we found our way through city traffic to our marina of choice:  Marina Parque das Naçōes on the Rio Tejo in Lisbon.

We introduced ourselves to the two friendly women managing the desk. They explained the situation regarding ‘no guarantee’ but did provide us with quite a bit of assurance that we most likely could obtain a berth there. Yet, oddly, one told us we could just pay month-by-month in the event we wanted to move.

That caught us up short a bit. Move? During the winter? Well, yes, because the marina couldn’t predict what the tide and currents could do to the silting of the harbor. The pilot guide had mentioned this issue, a problem the marina has been trying to solve. Eleven years ago they built a lock which reduced, but didn’t eliminate, silting. By 2018 the marina had lost the use of 150 of their 400 berths thanks to this phenomenom. In 2019 they planned to dredge, an operation most likely occurring annually.

Furthermore, after walking the pontoons, talking with some cruisers (a German told us, ’yes, I sit in some mud but it’s soft and not hard to get out of’), and seeing some of the pontoons stranded on brown mounds three to four feet above the water, we clearly understood why the caution about silting. Hmmm….

Adding to our second thoughts was the overall appearance of the facilities (seemed a bit tired) while noticing the pontoons themselves needed repairs (missing planks as well as caved-in spots). Our opinion of this marina went down several notches.

All was not lost, though. We drove a few miles to another Lisbon marina, Doca de Alcântara.

In the parking lot I noticed someone who looked like he was heading towards a boat. In asking about this marina he told us don’t even bother; berths will most likely all be taken by locals.

We mentioned Parque Naçōes. He said the city built that marina really quickly for Lisbon’s World Exposition in 1998. Too quickly, resulting in poor planning and quality of construction. Hence, the pontoons we saw sitting out of the water.

Two down. The third, Marina de Cascais (located on the coast before the entrance to the Tejo River) we didn’t see. Although an excellent alternative to being in Lisbon, the expense of wintering there, along with possible shortage of berths, precluded it as an option.

Okay, time to start driving north to prepare for tomorrow’s continuation of our marina hunt.

Wednesday night just happened to land us in another religious spot called Sanctuary of our Lady of Fátima, aka, Apparitions of our Lady of the Rosary. We only ended up here due to good value of a room on Booking.com, so it came as a surprise to see some huge Catholic complex glowing like a lava lamp.

After dinner we trooped across to a enormous plaza (larger than the Vatican’s St. Peter’s) following some people carrying electronic torches as well as candles. They were heading towards a preaching priest standing outside of one of the buildings flanking the large, central tower. Although we couldn’t understand anything being said it seemed pretty obvious some felt quite devoted to the message.

Curious as to why this town became such a religious site, I later discovered the source of all this piety. Supposedly, three shepherd kids in 1917 witnessed the appearance of a ‘mysterious lady’ six times.

During those visits this vision in bright white (ID’ed by the church as none other than Virgin Mary) spoke of prophecies (WWII, rise of communism, papal assassination attempt) and instructions (ranging fromthe world better repent’ to ‘build a chapel here’).

Of course, many doubted the children’s veracity. So, this mysterious lady told the three children she would give them a sign at noon on October 13 (the 7th visit) to silence nonbelievers. That day dawned rainy and cloudy, yet exactly when the sun reached its zenith, a strange light broke through and for 10 minutes the sun whirled in the sky. That day is known as ‘the day the sun danced’.

Two of the three children’s tombs are in this complex (they died from the Spanish flu in 1919 and 1920) while the third lived until 2005 as a nun.

It was just happenstance that we landed here. And, it was due to the inexpensive hotel room we found, and highway tolls.

Why highway tolls? Well, if anyone’s interesting in driving around Portugal, rent a car from within Portugal. We mistakenly assumed we could pay any tolls with cash or a card (credit/debit).

Hah! Joke’s on us. The Portuguese have instituted an electronic toll collection on some of its highways with no option to pay manually. Unless you enroll in their ‘Easytoll’ system or purchase a prepaid Toll Card or have a Portuguese rental car outfitted with one, you’re SOL if you manage to find yourself on one of the electronic-toll only roads (indicated in red below).

Which we did, and which meant we had to find a way to pay it before leaving Portugal to avoid reputed large fines. This resulted in, first, a visit to a local bank on our way out of Fátima. Mistakenly, we thought we could pay our toll and any penalty there as noted on one of numerous ‘how-to-pay-Portuguese- highway-tolls’ websites (judging by the vast array of sites outlining instructions, our predicament was a common occurrence). No, we had to drive to a special office operated by Brisa, the largest private road operator in Portugal.

Driving another thirty minutes while ensuring we dodged any more electronic-toll-only roads, we located the office closest to our route. We spent another thirty minutes waiting and then paying our 8 Euro toll only to have her write out a hand-slip because her computer system was down.

For a company touting itself as seeking “efficiency in all dimensions of its business” (www.brisa.pt) I sort of wonder how they define ‘efficiency’.

Armed with proof to (hopefully) avoid any toll fee and penalty charged by our car rental agency we continued onto our next round of marina views.

Back in the car (which after all this driving was feeling like our 2nd home) we drove to Porto. We stopped at the city’s new marina, Douro Marina.

The office was closed but we saw some French cruisers crossing the parking lot and accosted them (becoming quite a habit). Speaking with them they said the facilities were good and they liked the marina. However, we found it pretty sterile. Crossed that off our list.

A few miles further on we found Leixōes’ Porto Atlântico based in an industrial harbor.

Again, another friendly senhora (the majority of marina office staff in Portugal seem to be female) answered our questions and assured us no problem of wintering here.

In spite of the rather rough atmosphere, the marina felt more like a yachting home. Maybe due to the small size as well as several of the boats we saw appeared to be cruisers. Okay, we marked Leixōes as a possibility.

Our next destination was Póvoa de Varzin Marina a few more miles up the coast.

Located in a beachy resort, we parked our car in a sandy lot and walked to the marina office. There, the nice senhora told us our 12m size (just over 40‘) precluded any chance of wintering there unless we were on the hard (out of the water). Good to know.

But, the likelihood of our actually choosing to berth there if they did accept our length was close to a big fat zero: we had read about rats populating the pontoons and boarding boats…

Cointinuing further north we followed a long line of traffic as we inched into the town of Viana do Castelo on the Rio Lima. We lucked out in finding a space to park on the street as rain began to fall. Exiting the car we began walking towards the town marina.  As we neared it we looked at one another and said, “Do we really think we’d want to stay here? Because it looks pretty depressing from this vantage point…” Question asked and answered with “let’s get out of here.”

Our day ended in Ponte de Lima, again driven by an inexpensive hotel room (of which there are many in Portugal). By luck we found ourselves in one of the country’s oldest towns, and a beautiful one at that, which we explored the next morning before continuing our marina hunt.

Our hotel bordered the river with a tree-lined promenade lining one side of the Lima river.

Wandering down the street, the early morning hour kept us from accessing the Torre de Cadeia Velha. This tower is one of the two remaining from the nine that were part of the 14th century wall. The tower became the district’s prison in 1511 following repairs and reinforcement by King D. Manuel (1469-1521). Now, it serves as the Tourist Information Office.

Although the hours clearly posted indicated it wouldn’t open until later, it didn’t stop Max from trying the door,

and, when that failed, peering in.

But, what really draws one’s eye is the magnificent bridge spanning the Lima river, a reminder of Rome’s occupation of the Iberian Peninsula.

Estimated to having been constructed during Emperor Augustus’ time (63 B.C.E. – 14 C.E.), the bridge is part of the military Roman route “Conventus Bracaraugustanus”, aka, Via XIX. It was renovated during the Middle Ages to support the town’s fortifications:  first by King D. Pedro (1320-67) around 1370, followed by King D. Manuel mentioned above.

A collage of statues representing the region’s agricultural economy stands next to the bridge (the area is known for its Vinho Verde or Green Wines)…

while on the other side

we saw signs of yet another camino, this time from Porto to Santiago de Campostela.

Returning to the old town we walked back a different way passing more reminders of the town’s medieval history, such as the fountain,

paid for by a tax on salt and olive oil and kept clean by charging fines for ‘dirtying’ it as per this inscription:

Back in the car and on the road again we crossed over to Spain where we checked out four marinas:

Marina Punta Lagoa (in Vigo) – We received a friendly welcome, and we knew this marina offered good protection from the Atlantic swells, but the container toilets and showers left a lot to be desired….;

Moaña Marina (in Moaña) – We liked the ‘feel’ of this small marina as well as Alex, the manager. The facilities appeared adequate and clean, and the location had that ‘curb-appeal’ of a pretty river town. This definitely was one we’d consider for the winter;

Rodeira Yacht Club (in Cangas) – The marina staff was friendly but the facilities were dirty and the town didn’t seem as nice as Moaña’s. Next…:

and, Combarro Marina (in Combarro) – Another marina staffer named Alex gave us some information and said he’d put us in touch with the manager when she came back later that day. We liked the facilities (great looking toilets and showers, as well as clean) and the location right off the historic old town gave this small marina a lovely feel. Finally! We’ve found one suitable for JUANONA’s wintering with us on her :)

After 60 hours on a road trip to Lisbon and back we decided Spain would be our winter berth with Marina Combarro getting the most votes for security, facilities, friendly marina staff, and pleasant curb-appeal.

However, this all got tossed after a chance encounter with our friends Pam and Mark whom we chanced to meet upon our return to JUANONA and Muros.

Upon their suggestion we sailed across the ria adding a tenth marina (not counting Muros) into our pool of ‘where to winter.’

Jackpot! Real Club Náutico Portosín exuded an aura of professionalism and efficiency all presented by a warm and helpful staff.

Further checking on facilities, pontoons, and pricing we put in our application for a berth.

And, to think we had to drive to Lisbon and back only to discover what we were looking for was practically right under JUANONA’s bow.  I guess there really is no place like ‘home’ :)

¡Mas Galicia… y Roberto!

A Coruña

Thursday-Saturday, July 25-27, 2019

On the 25th I took the bus to the train station to meet a childhood friend whose family has been intertwined with mine since my mom and his had met in college many moons ago. Someone recently told me of seeing both of our pregnant mothers slowly walking down the street in our neighborhood. That image has stayed with me, collected along with many others from over 60 years.

So, watching him push through the turnstile brought back our shared history as well as anticipation of more adventures, starting with a great way to memorialize his arrival…

yet, my pleas for a snapshot keepsake were laughingly refused in spite of my stating “Max would do it”.

Once aboard Robbie assured us his overnight in Madrid had helped diminish some of his jet lag caused by flying from San Diego to Spain. Which was great, since we whisked him off to experience a taste of the Medieval Festival beginning with a sampling of those mohitos Max and I imbibed the night before.

This being one of the most celebrated holidays in Galicia, we quietly entered one of A Coruña’s medieval churches. Here in the Church of Santiago is a revered wooden statue of that apostle that thousands of pilgrims have touched since the 13th century. Unfortunately I only captured it from a distance.

Throughout the evening Max and Robbie graciously sat

and stood for photos

until we eventually landed back on JUANONA.

The next day entailed a long walk to El Torre de Hercules, a.k.a., the Tower of Hercules built by the Romans in the 1st century A.C.E. Max and I had visited this site before but wanted to show Robbie this remarkable piece of working architecture. Interestingly, the Statue of Liberty and Cuba’s Lighthouse of Morro became ‘twinned’ with this lighthouse in 2008. Wouldn’t happen today, I bet.

Designed by a Lusitanian architect named Caius Sevius Lupus*, this lighthouse is the oldest Roman one still working. Throughout the ages documents have cited this structure, testifying to its early fame, as noted by: Roman historian Ptolemy (4th ce.); the Burgo de Osma Beatus (10th ce.); General Alfonso X (13th ce.); navigation charts (16th ce); and ‘Atlas del Rey Planeta: A description of Spin and the coasts and ports of its kingdoms’ (17th ce.).

*A stone tablet dedicated to the god Mars and placed at the base carries his name, the only ancient Roman lighthouse whose builder is known.

We purchased tickets allowing 30 minutes to see the original construction

now encased and reinforced in a shell after renovations took place in the 18th century.

On each floor signage provides factoids, such as:

Romans used concrete, a low cost material and one not requiring really skilled labor (you can see the hole in the ceiling which enabled the overseers to drop a plumb line);

This port, originally called Brigantium, served as an important commercial port (part of the tin route) and strategic location (it supplied provisions for troops attacking and conquering Britannia in 43 A.C.E.);

And, this lighthouse made a great watchtower as well as stronghold:  six soldiers in May 1589 defended it, holding off Sir Francis Drake’s attack for nine days. (This is also the battle where A Coruña’s famous heroine, Maria Mayor Fernāndezde Cámara y Pita– of whom you’ll see statues– and other women, fought the English.)

We climbed the 254 steps to the top, where a full-sky view of the city and Gulf of Atabro lay before us.

It’s also where Max saved a family from trying to fit in a selfie,

and where I captured one of Robbie :)

The lighthouse’s name comes from a legend created by King Alfonso X the Wise around 1270:  Hercules ordered a tower built over the buried head of a giant named Gerión, whom Hercules had defeated.

But, two earlier stories exist… Irish monks in the 1100s wrote the ‘Invasions Book‘ (now viewed as a compilation of myths about Ireland’s history). Their tale attributes the tower to Breogan, the Celtic chieftan of Ireland and founder of the city of Brigantia…. And a myth a century earlier involves a monk named Trezensonio who visited the city and climbed ‘the tower’.

Whatever the legend, it’s called the Tower of Hercules, which is good enough for moi.

The lighthouse is part of an outdoor museum created in the mid-1990s and includes 20 sculptures. Several caught my eye:

the Compass Rose (see from the top of the lighthouse) with its eight directional points and references to the seven Celtic nations and the Tartessians who lived in SW Spain 900-600 B.C.E.

Charon, the ferryman of Hades who helped Hercules capture the hound Cerberus

and, Breoghan (mentioned above), the founder of A Coruña.

As most of you know by now I really search out this type of art. Not sure if due to its tactileness or just the three-dimensional aspect. Whatever. I love it.

Camariñas

Saturday-Tuesday, July 27-30, 2019 

Saturday we headed off into rolly seas, covering 48 miles with a mix of sail and motor. Not the smoothest of rides for Robbie’s first on JUANONA. But, we made it to our next anchorage without the crew getting too nauseous. Luckily the captain generally has an iron stomach. Me, not so much.

We turned into the Ria de Camariñas and headed a little past the main town, anchoring off the beach enjoying calmer waters yet still with a bit of rocking.

The next morning, with a forecast of strong winds and rain we decided to head to the marina. Being at a dock makes it easier to explore ashore, which is what we did for two days. The first day we hiked towards the coastline where Max took the opportunity to do a head soak. We found these water fountains throughout our walks, probably servicing many pilgrims on the caminos to Santiago. They certainly came in handy as demonstrated below.

The next day we strolled in the opposite direction, and after verifying our heading like all good navigators,

we landed on the beach we had seen from JUANONA when anchoring the previous night. Unable to resist the water, we headed down to toe-test the temp. And, found it still a bit chilly.

Outdoor cafes offered plenty of opportunities for local feasting, which we enjoyed as did some local wildlife.

But, no one really seems to mind as we later saw in another town a similar clientele.

When in a foreign country we attempt to learn, at the very least, some basics such as ‘hello’, ‘please’, and ‘thank you’; and, of course, an initial inquiry:  ‘do you speak English?’

So, when someone approaches and catches our eye we typically say, ‘hola’. Which we planned to do as an older lady headed towards us. Well, either we didn’t get our ‘bueñas días’ out soon enough or she was already tired of touristas because this fireplug of a woman spat out two ‘¡bueñas días!’ seemingly with a scowl as she passed us.

Thankfully we didn’t take it personally. Although, maybe we should have? What it did do is provide a mantra among the three of us. And, a strong encouragement to practice our Español greetings.

One of the biggest pleasures of cruising comes from meeting other folk, and in Carmariñas we had the good fortune of meeting Anna and Arthur from Sweden and Leoni and Steve from England. And, what else do you do but invite them aboard for evening conversation and libations? :) Always a pleasure and a highlight of our travels.

Fisterra and environs

Tuesday-Sunday, July 30-August 4, 2019

With calmer seas (thankfully) we exited the Ria on Tuesday, heading another 23 miles south.

(FYI:  the dangling rubber snake upper left is to keep seagulls off of JUANONA.)

Our destination serves as one of the most prominent points of land in Spain:  Finisterra or, as the Romans termed it, the “End of the Earth.”

This point’s fame also comes from pilgrims continuing beyond Santiago de Compostella to end here. And, indeed, we did see a lot of these pilgrims. Some looking fresher than others, but all happy to have no more camino (road) in front of them.

Often we’d spot a scallop shell, indigenous to Galicia, dangling from their backpacks. I looked into why this was so emblematic of St. James and the pilgrimages to Santiago. It comes from the story associated with his return to Galicia where he had spread the work of Jesus.

This time he wasn’t here to proselytize. He couldn’t, because he didn’t have a head. James made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem (not too smart) and King Herod Agrippa I (nephew of Herod Antipas, the guy who dealt with Jesus) had him executed in 44 C.E. His followers decided to take his headless body back to the Iberian peninsula (allegedly on a rudderless, no-sail, stone ‘sailboat’). When the boat landed it frightened a knight’s horse who then bolted and plummeted into the sea along with said knight. St. James saved him (sure thing) and the knight and horse emerged un-drowned, covered in scallops.

But, I prefer the earlier association:  pagans used to travel the Janus Path (named after the Roman god) to Finisterre as part of a re-birth. And, they began at the Temple of Venus in the Pyrenees. Venus, we all know, rose from a scallop shell, a perfect reason for a pilgrimage badge. A lot more pleasant of a tale, I think.

We anchored off another white sand beach of which these rias abound and dinghied to shore. We rinsed off our feet at a convenient water spray* before starting down a lovely stone walkway towards the town of Fisterra.

*Galicia takes care of their beachgoers because almost all of the public beaches also feature fresh water sprays for feet and body. And, no, we did not take soap in order to use them as our shower source. As tempting as it may be.

Along this trail exercise stations appeared, which, of course, meant the three of us had to check them out…

I seriously doubt anyone would have taken us for pilgrims. Or, at least, not the kind of pilgrims who were on a spiritual quest.

After a night off the beach we upped anchor and moved just a mile over to Playa de Estorde, around the corner from the town of Cee.

Not only was our new anchorage more remote, but also meant we could see Anna and Arthur again :)

That’s definitely one of the best features of cruising:  not only do you meet some great people but also arrange to rendezvous in later ports.

Hearing a town three miles away was scenic, we motored onto the beach

and proceeded to walk to Corcubión. By the second mile mincing our way along the narrow shoulder we thought hitchhiking might not be a bad idea.

But, then realized who the hell would pick us up for we most likely would look like cheating pilgrims. Or, maybe smelly, cheating pilgrims.

So, we continued grunting our way and, upon reaching our destination, rewarded ourselves with some excellent refreshments at a friendly sidewalk cafe.

And, if you’re wondering, we took a bus back…

The next day Robbie and I tried our luck with the bus going back to Fisterra to pick up some groceries. Hah. Not only was it difficult to locate the schedule online; once we did, we ended up waiting one hour and 45 minutes from the time indicated. And, we proved that hitchhiking was futile because we tried with no luck.

But, we did make it into Fisterra, picked up some provisions, walked down to the harbor,

and shared a lunch amidst yet more pilgrims.

San Francisco

Friday-Sunday, August 2-4, 2019

The next morning we motor-sailed under a gentle breeze

accompanied by more playful dolphins

the short distance to one of the prettiest beaches yet:  Playa de San Francisco.

Having read about some petroglyphs, the three of us dinghied to shore to search them out. After wandering around we located the chiseled rock designs at the top of a hill. Several days later I found better photos to use here.

Supposition is that they represent the sun’s movement through the sky. But, like most prehistoric art, it’s an educated guess at best.

The next day Max served as our taxi and Robbie and I took a long walk from town, heading off the main road through a pine forest

to the lighthouse on Monte Louro where, turning the corner, an amazing stretch of sand and tourquoise sea came into view. A Wow-ie view.

We had passed this on our way into the Ria and it looked as enticing now as it did then.

Another long walk back found us searching for an outdoor lunch spot. We managed to find one but, after a disinterested waitress took our drink order and delivered the large bottle of agua frio and a waiter dumped a basket of bread on our table, we sat for 15 to 20 minutes as others arriving after us had their orders taken and whileother patrons were served.

We tried to catch her eye but she wasn’t having any of that. So, we waited a bit more then decided to pay for our what was on our table and leave. As Robbie said we should have taken the last piece of bread… Definitely a rare experience in this country.

Our taxi awaited us

only to return with the three of us decked out in our swimsuits for a dip. Because there was no way I was going to let Robbie leave this beautiful water without getting in it.

We weren’t the only ones out enjoying the sun and sea. The beach was packed. And, when back aboard, some boisterous teens paddled toward us and posed for a group photo.

Muros

Sunday-Tuesday, August 4-6, 2019

After two nights on anchor we headed further up the ria to the marina in Muros, where we filled up with water, did laundry,

took showers (FYI:  we ensured Robbie experienced the joys of a cockpit shower :), provisioned and explored the town.

One of the sites turned out to be an old tidal milll.

Hardly any signage alerted us to this former industry, but once we located the entrance a smiling and knowledgeable guy at the front desk explained how it worked. Between 1820 and 1967 this mill ground corn and other grains.

The receptionist also provided an intriguing bit of information:  with a lot of time to kill during the milling process the Galicians created their traditional dance and music called ‘muiñera’.

The exhibit featured diagrams associated with the mill

as well as the early history of the region. (This exhibit area is also where I found those better photos of the petroglyphs we had seen on our hike in San Francisco.)

On our way back to JUANONA we looked for a larger grocery store indicated on Google Maps. After several mis-steps, we ended up at what appeared to be a dead end. However, we heard a voice overhead, which turned out to be an older señor who had seen us looking around for a road to the store.

Apparently he’s seen confused walkers before, and he pointed to a path through the field.

Feeling a bit like we were trespassing, we tentatively started out and with more encouragement from our window guide we became more confident as we strode across the land.

With fishing boats delivering seafood on a regular basis, it seemed a crime not to buy some. Not knowing the Spanish names of the fish we generally eat, Max managed to identify something similar. Fortunately the woman filleted it for him. Max also assisted a Danish cruiser (the guy standing next to him with his daughter) who was buying a lobster –his first ever!– to try.

After dinner Robbie performed his usual boat chore,

followed by a game of Oh Hell (yes, Robbie is now a member of that ‘club’ with Max showing him how to score).

Santiago de Compostello

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Muros would be our last port of call with Robbie, but we decided to accompany him to Santiago de Compostello where he’d board the train to Madrid for his flight home. And, where we’d take advantage of forecast inclement weather to check out potential marinas for our wintering.

We took the bus after a feast of custard doughnuts (the last one I gave to my seatmate, a young pilgrim from Barcelona who was ravenous),

and in less than two hours found ourselves in THE pilgrim site.

Max and I checked into our hotel located right around the corner from the main plaza, and soon the three of us found ourselves heading to the cathedral.

On the way some displays immediately caught my eye, and I thought, this is PERFECT for commemorating our visit here.

But, then we found they were 3.50 euros each total a photo (!). We kept going but to this day I regret not convincing my fellow travelers to stick their heads through those holes.

A few steps further we arrived to where so many others had walked:  the Cathedral of Saint James, and his bones. The latter had been discovered in 814 in the forests of Libredón by a hermit named Paio. King Alfonso II built a church and, voila!, let the pilgrimages begin… along with a bigger and more glorious church.

As we walked around the large open plaze filled with pilgrims and tourists alike, it felt in many ways like a carnival.

No doubt echoing centuries’ worth of such fare.

We snapped photos of one another in the plaza,

and, on the other side of the cathedral.

I felt dwarfed by the immensity standing in such close quarters to this building. Obviously those who ruled wanted to provide followers with a feeling that they were being looked after by their religion. Either that or showing who’s boss.

Throughout Max and my travels this summer we’ve come across numerous references to St. James (‘Santiago’ in Galician). And, You didn’t have to be a believer to feel awestruck when standing in front of a cathedral which has drawn so many pilgrims over the centuries. I mean, even my sister is going to be doing a camino with a friend this September.

We joined the line (miraculously short) and climbed the steps to enter.

Noticing four pilgrim-like young men directly behind us I asked them when they had arrived. They hailed from Canada and had just finished their pilgrimage exactly 30 days from when they started.

Unfortunately, they were turned away at the entrance because of their backpacks. But, the guard told them they could store them for 2 euros each just down the steps and to the left. Robbie had read that prior to our entering, and we all had stashed our bags before touring.

Although under major renovations,

visitors could see the famous botafumeira (incense ball), which is swung by eight men on special occasions. Imagine getting konked on the head with THAT thing. Talk about an MDT!

Supposedly the reason for the incense was to counteract the stinkiness of unwashed pilgrims flooding into the building. No kidding.

Around the corner we opted to join others who slowly made their way through a roped path to the High Altar in the Apostle’s chapel to touch the silver back of St. James.

No photos were allowed of the silver bust, but here’s a peek of it through the gates. He sure looks like a happy guy. Who wouldn’t with all those people coming to see you?

We visited the crypt underneath, about which Max wanted to know if anyone had opened it to ensure it was headless…

and then rejoined the human snake as we all existed through the gift shop back to a plaza.

While Robbie and Max looked over some brochures I went next door to our hotel to use our head. Which turned into quite an experience when I couldn’t unlatch the door from the bathroom. Realizing I truly was stuck, I began kicking and screaming. Just our luck, the room was soundproof, as advertised.

Finally, after 15 minutes a maid working in another room, heard my even louder shouts (interrupted by my laughing at my predicament). After she, then the manager, then Max who arrived with Robbie, tried and failed to open the door, the manager’s mom (family-run business) succeeded in freeing me from the bathroom.

With only some bruised thumbs to show for my exertions,

the three of us found a place for lunch indoors (it was starting to sprinkle). FYI: In Spain it’s less expensive to eat indoors than out, but that’s not why we ate indoors. Honest!

Not able to put off our good-byes any longer we walked Robbie out of the old town towards his train.

All I can say is thank god, St. James, and all the pagan deities, memories remain of wonderful times. For that they were :)

 

Starting to cruise Galicia…

Tuesday-Thursday, July 16-25, 2019

Remember when I said we basically glided for two days and nights down the Bay of Biscay to Gijón? None of the traditional rock ‘n rolling due to the ocean rollers that can ‘knock your head right off your shoulders’ (from a Schooner Fare song). Well, our east to west sails along the north coast of Spain made up for our smooth north to south passage.

For 60 miles we slipped and sloshed our way through water throwing a liquid temper tantrum.

Occasional dolphins created a welcome reprieve during our roller-coaster motor-sailing.

With relief we turned into Ria de Ribadeo for the night.

Not so fast. Not only did a weedy bottom in places force us to re-anchor, but we continued to roll up, down, and around on swells. After a sleepless eight hours we upped anchor as soon as it got light and headed for the Ria de Viveiro.

But after reading that this anchorage can be rolly, we said let’s keep on going, which is how we ended up anchored in a lovely bay off of Cedeira late in the afternoon.

So began our cruising the Galician coast of Spain.

CEDEIRA

July 17-19

We explored the town, enjoying lunch in a little square where the town had smartly planned an activity playground for kids while adults sat at tthe outdoor cafes enjoying local fare.

A path along the river took us behind the town where we passed senior citizens out for their morning stroll and, when returning to town, spotted a father and son walking the exposed river bed at low tide.

Besides a blissfully calm surface in which to sleep this town gave us the gift of meeting Pam and Mark, two Brits heading in the same direction. When dinghy-ing back to JUANONA from town, we headed near their boat but with enough space to turn off in case they didn’t wave back (our litmus test for how receptive others are to two cruisers disrupting their peaceful solitude). Fortunately they were as glad to meet other English speaking cruisers as we. They invited us aboard and conversation flowed :)

ARES

July 19-22

After our stay in Cedeira, we headed to the Ares, the next Ria south of us with Pam and March appearing later in the day.

Over the next three days we relaxed off this small beach resort,

where we joined other locals and visitors in slowly walking the boardwalk

and, of course, sampling local seafood :)

Tucked amidst some trees at the far end of the beach we found a cafe with some decent WiFi and across the street a few blocks away a fantastic laundramat. Unfortunately the WiFi only really worked that one day at the cafe but clean bedding and clothes offset that inconvenience.

With Caribbean-color water tempting us, we dinghied to one of the beaches for an evening swim.

Our ‘swim’ ended up as a quick dip instead for the water temperature resembled Maine’s more than any tropical warmth.

With the start of summer holidays beginning in full force we’d been a bit concerned about crowded harbors and anchorages. But our fears were unfounded. We discovered plenty of space along this coastal region, an assurance other sailors had mentioned.

And, it appeared some cruising boats never left as witnessed by the tatters of a country flag…

A CORUÑA

July 22-25

Our next rendezvous put us in A Coruña, a port whose history included…

the world’s oldest working lighthouse (more on that latter)…

…and a landing for those arriving from sea to continue their pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.

A misunderstanding put us In two different marinas. Pam and Mark moored at the Darsena located in the town center while we turned into the first marina when entering the harbor. Although even on the outer part of the city it was an easy, five-minute walk into the old town.

Generally it takes us a bit to become accustomed to the quicker tempo of a metropolis after the peace of a quiet village.  But, with an afternoon of walking through the old town we settled into the city’s pace. Which picked up, as did we, when learning we had arrived just as one of the largest parties was beginning: the Medieval Festival :)

Beginning Tuesday night and continuing through Sunday, locals outfitted in medieval dress manned booths selling wares of non-edibles (headscarves to amulets)

and edibles (Iberica jamon to honey), some appearing mighty odd.

But, the best offerings of the festival appeared in the form of acrobats,

Strolling troubadours,

Ogres,

who didn’t seem to faze some kids despite in-your face ‘greetings’,

walking vegetation,

and, a fire-breathing dragon, which did cause at least one child to scream in holy terror (check out the video, pretty horrifying for a kid).

I fell under the spell of this festival with its blending of GAME OF THRONES + LORD OF THE RINGS + WIZARD OF OZ. Not what I was expecting in a region known for its Catholicism.

Delicious street food served as our lunch and dinner fare for most of our days there where we partook of kabobs, actually MANY kabobs. It’s also where we learned the importance of vigilance against theives.

As Max stood in front of a booth deciding what food to order three women, grandmotherly in appearance, crowded around him. He felt pressure where he kept his wallet inside a Velcro-closed pocket, and when he realized it was gone quickly grabbed the woman’s arm. Suddenly a young man standing nearby pointed and yelled ‘the thief went that way!’

Well,s he hadn’t gone that way. In the confusion all the thieves got away. Within 15 minutes the police ‘discovered’ and returned the wallet, minus cash but with credit cards intact. How they knew where to find the wallet so quickly made the entire episode seem a bit suspicious, but Max was relieved to only have lost some cash. He now pins that pocket closed with a safety pin.

A Coruña also where we found a perfect retreat from the street melange:  a cafe with great WiFi, peace for writing all accompanied by good java.

I discovered even more relaxing hours during two glorious massages by Rita at the Oriental spa located right on the main plaza. Now that’s a true luxury.

We met up with Pam and Mark

for some amazing mojitos (while learning of some special rum)

then joined the stream of happy revelers navigating the narrow lanes with Mark encouraging Max to demo a head scratcher.

The days were hot under the sun but really pleasant in the shade. By afternoon an onshore sea breeze kicked in, providing free A/C to all. In the late evening the air cooled off a bit more, warranting a blanket for sleeping. With most of Europe experiencing acute heat waves, this part of Spain was bathed in cooler temps. Talk about luck.

We explored beyond the old town gaining an appreciation for this Spanish city.  Just walking out of the main plaza placed us amid modern life, including seeing a peaceful protest against the local telecommunications company.

Walking further on we saw an evocative photography display, ‘Castaway Women’. With over 10 portraits, the photographs captured the terror, exhaustion, and relief experienced by these migrants. In the image below Olmo Calvo caught a group of immigrants found in a rubber dinghy next to the Libyan coast. The Spanish NGO, Proactiva Open Arms, supplied the life vests and later rescued 60 people also attempting to cross to Italy. 

The expression ‘there but for the grace of god go I’ seems appropriate.

Crossing to the other side of the peninsula we prominaded along a boardwalk rimming a pristine beach, a feature of many of these coastal cities and towns.

And, where one beach goer would possibly rue her time in the sun.

A cool sculpture at the end of the beach reminded us of the popularity of surfing

and always of my brother and nephews’ love of the sport. So, I just had to pose (as seen in cover photo :)

The Spaniards definitely appreciate their ocean access. In all of our stops along this coast kayakers, paddle boarders, divers, jet skiers, and swimmers joined sailors and power boaters on and in the water. But, nothing beats the pure joy of seeing kids leaping off land and splashing down in the ocean, which occurred frequently along the city’s harbor.

By Thursday A Coruña had become a familiar face. Having adjusted to city living we settled into an easy routine of visiting favorite haunts (roaming the old town, running miscellaneous errands, and provisioning as needed).

Additionally, Thursday, July 25th is one of the most popular holidays of the year:  the Feast of St. James, the patron saint of Galicia and of Spain.

He’s the reason (well, at least way back when) why all those pilgrims make their way to Santiago (‘Saint James’ in the galician dialect) de Compostello where he’s (supposedly) interned. And, why the Festival’s spirit reached an even higher pitch. Which is truly interesting considering how joyfully pagan we felt.

Yet, aboard JUANONA we had highlighted this day for another reason. With that, I’ll close with something I never got tired of during our time in A Coruña:

¡España!

GIJÓN Y ENVIRONS

Tuesday-Wednesday, July 9-16, 2019

Gijón

Marina Yates welcomed us onto the north coast of Spain Tuesday morning with Jésus, the marina manager, and his friend catching our lines. We had heard of the warm hospitality visiting yachts received in Spain, and Jésus and his staff proved it.

He later came aboard to help us plan our exploration of Gijón and the surrounding area. His enthusiasm for this region of Spain was infectious, and we carefully noted routes and sites to see.

But, we also had another treasure trove of information for this area, which we frequently consulted during our stay. Our friends Linda and Joel had traveled here resulting in several detailed emails providing excellent suggestions for a road trip.

Another source came from my brother and sister-in-law who had just recently returned from a two-week road trip, which included both inland and coastal sight-seeing. Coastal because my brother managed to bring his wetsuit and surf several times :)

Not only did Jésus assist in mapping out our itinerary but also served as transport to the local medical clinic. Furthermore, when we didn’t return until much later in the afternoon, we discovered he drove to the hospital (!) to see if we had been sent there. But, it was nothing that drastic. The clinic gave us an appointment and within two hours we had paid the 51 euro bill and obtained a prescription at a local pharmacy for 5 euros. The efficiency and low-cost stunned us (other times we’ve had to pay much, much more to access a country’s medical services), as did the concern and care from Jésus.

Our marina sat on the outskirts of the city resulting in a 20-30 minute walk to reach the old town. Along the way we noticed some ugly graffiti mirroring what’s going on back home. Another reminder of how nationalism brings out the worst in people.

But, that was one of the few signs we saw, hoping there weren’t more.

When exploring Gijón we walked by a statue of a king named Pelayo holding aloft a cross.

In reading later about this guy we discovered Asturias, a principality facing the Cantabrian Sea (Spanish name for Bay of Biscay) to the north, Cantabria to the east, Castile-León to the south, and Galicia to the west, served as the first area of this peninsula to reconquer lands from the Moors.

Pelayo (d.737), whom they think may have been a page or a bodyguard in the royal court of Visigothic King Roderick (who died fighting the Muslims), led the revolt in the early 700s, becoming king in 717 after pushing the Muslims out of his country and reinstating the Catholic faith and Spanish independence, at least in this bit of Spain.

Subsequently, Pelayo became a legend and is hailed as the savior of Christianity. One site describes his victory over the Moors as such: “Vastly outnumbered but armed with invincible faith, Don Pelayo’s heroic spirit attracted God’s blessing and changed the course of Spanish history” (www.tfpstudentaction.org). Yikes. Thus begins another religious righteousness that, to me, has poisoned the world.

But, back to Asturias where prior to Pelayo evidence has been found of human habitation 100,000 years ago. Later, during the Iron Age, Celtic tribes arrived and settled in this area. By the 5th century B.C.E. the Castreña culture populated the area, living in fortified settlements called castros located on hilltops surrounded by a circular ditch.

Next, the Romans arrived in the Iberian peninsula 219/8 B.C.E. They overcame their main rivals, the Carthaginians, in 205 B.C.E. and proceeded to push north and west, conquering tribes along the way – one being the Lusitanians.

The Lusitanians lost to the invaders in 133 B.C.E. but only after putting up fierce resistance. Interestingly, some historians accredit the Lusitanians under their leader Viriatus (d.138 B.C.E.) as employing the first Spanish guerrilla tactics.

The Romans continued their push into Iberia, now focusing on the Celtic tribes occuping northwest Spain, primarily in Asturias and its eastern neighbor, Cantabri. Only after ten years of fighting (29-19 B.C.E.) did Rome finally win the war.

Then, 700 years later the Moors arrived, which brings us back to Don Pelayo (FYImost of the rest of Spain remained under the Moors until King Ferdinand V and Queen Isabella I captured Granada in 1492).

Okay, back to Pelayo (labeled ‘the wild ass’ in an Islamic chronicle). Since his reconquering of Asturia from the Moors soon after their initial invasion, this part of the Iberian peninsula remained independent with the title “prince of Asturias” being used by the Spanish monarchy to this day. And, in spite of the Roman and Moorish invasions, the native traditions still exist as we saw during several festivals.

With time to explore the region we rented a car and headed south towards the beautiful Picos de Europa. For three days we oohed and awed over the glorious scenery laid out in front of us.

Covandonga

Within several hours we found ourselves in one of the Asturians’ most venerated sites:  Covandonga. Here Pelayo began his reconquest of Asturias. Supposedly, the breath of the Virgin inspired Pelayo to win the Battle of Covadonga thus placing this spot on the history map. The cave, Cova Dominica, in which Pelayo and his soldiers sheltered became a holy site with the third king of Asturias, Alphonse I (693-757) building a chapel there. A masonry one was built on the spot in 1940.

Not only does the Holy Cave enshrine the Ausurians’ patron saint, la Santina (the Virgin de Covandonga) seen below in a 1918 procession to the Holy Cave…

 

but also Pelayo, his wife Gaudosia,

and Alphonse I who are entombed here.

Originally, pilgrims crawled on their knees up the 100 stone steps (Staircase of Promises) to reach the site, but now a tunnel connects it to the esplanade of the Basilica. And, overseeing the entire plaza is the iconic statue of Don Pelayo with his infamous Christian cross, la Cruz de la Victoria.

The Basilica dramatically rises as you begin your approach to the plaza,

passing the Collegiate Church of San Fernando.

Commissioned by King Alphonse XII (1886-1941), the Basillica was completed in 1901.

Walking back to our car we contemplated joining a long line waiting for the bus to see two magnificent lakes, Enol and La Ercina. It was tempting, as was taking the Fuente Dé cable car to the top of Picos Massif as my brother and his wife recently did; however, the heat won out with our choosing, instead, to avoid the crowds. We opted for an icy pop then slurped our way back down the hill to our car.

We continued winding our way further south through mountainous countryside with a few stops at roadside adventure camps

and miradors along the way.

Cangas de Onis

Our next destination was Cangas de Onis, capital of Asturias until 774 with its former Roman bridge reconstructed during the Middle Ages.

We also took advantage of some other works of ‘art’.

Posada de Valdeón

Late afternoon we began our search for a place to stay, and we found the perfect spot in Posada de Valdeón:  Hotel Rural Picos de Europa. We knew we were lucky because not a lot of accommodations populate these small towns, but our hosts said the high season had only just begun since earlier rainy weather delayed the typical onslaught of visitors.

And, our room tucked up into the top floor made for a perfect ‘Heidi in the mountains’ feel.

This tiny village offered several lodges, a few restaurants (one being so good we returned for our second feast the next night), and an outdoor adventure shop. That’s it, along with the incredible vistas.

It’s also where we met and shared some wonderful conversations with two avid New Hampshire hikers who kindly suggested an easy stroll for us, starting in Cain, another small village further north.

We drove a half hour or so to Cain for a morning trek alongside the Cares River, a riverbed chiseled out of huge limestone blocks.

It also serves as a feed for hydropower, which is probably why such a well-established trail is carved out of the limestone, beginning with some short tunnels.

We went to the mid-point, then turned to retrace our steps. But, not before we experienced a religious moment… Thanks to our friend Ellen, we started seeing Flat Jesus in odd spots, including on a trail sign,

and in my back pocket.

We felt a bit abashed when others noticed our Flat Jesus, but we hopefully allayed any disrespect by saying it was ‘for our church’.

On our way back to our inn we stopped at yet another viewpoint (honestly, you can not not take photos of all this splendor)

only to find when we got back in the car that we could only go in reverse (!) while in first gear. Not a good thing when on narrow, steep, winding roads. In other words, backing up all the way back was definitely not an option.

After a few moments of wide-eyed concern of ‘how the hell do we get out of this predicament?!’, Max discovered he just had to really, REALLY gun it when starting on an incline. Problem solved but not without some rapid heart beating.

The next morning we packed our bags and headed off for more exploring as we made our way back to the coast, heading north and east.

The roads appeared well kept 

although still a bit unerving with steep drop-offs and potential fog banks ahead.

Potes

With a full day ahead we decided to check out another popular pilgrimage site.

Just outside the city of Potes in the Cantabria province east of Asturias, Turibius of Liébana and some Benedictine monks settled in the foothills of Picos de Europa in the 6th century.

Several centuries later Don Pelayo’s successful campaign against the Moors resulted in a Catholic stronghold. Later, emigrating Christians from the north created a strategic buffer in the Valley of Liébana along the River Duer.  Which is how the monastery Santo Toribio de Liébana came to be.

It gets a bit confusing as this Turibius of the 6th century (who would become a Saint) gets mixed up with another Turibius of Astorga of the 4th century (also granted Sainthood). I believe it’s the latter whose bones found their way to this monastery.

To me, what’s interesting is both championed Rome’s Catholicism versus Priscillianism, a form of Christianity developed here in the 4th century by, whom else, Priscillian (340-385).*  And, one I had never ever heard about, which isn’t surprising considering my tiny knowledge of religions.

*This doctrine is a mix of Gnosticism (the Christians’ God didn’t directly create the earth, an imperfect spirit did…) and Manichaeism (the good power of God opposed the evil power of the devil) with the underlying dualistic premise:  material was evil and the spirit good, which, leads to the logical (?) belief that this denied Christ’s humanity.

Priscillian didn’t sound like a fun guy as he has been described as a rigorous ascetic forbidding all sensual pleasures, marriage, meat and wine. He also has the distinction of being the first ascetic executed (he literally lost his head) for heresy by the Church.

And, this is one of the rabbit holes I follow when something unusual catches my interest and, which I’m certain doesn’t capture yours! So, onwards to what we actually saw…

We passed groups of orange t-shirted youth making their way up the long hill.

I later spoke with several of them who explained they comprised a group of around 100 kids from all over Spain. Their week-long pilgrimage ended here, for which they appeared extremely thankful.

We followed them into the church, built in 1256. The simplicity of the decor was refreshing after the lavishness of other churches and cathedrals we’d visited.

Here we witnessed a short sermon (which we didn’t understand) and a song (which didn’t matter that we didn’t understand as it was lovely).

Off to the left of the Apse an iron grill secured the Chapel of the Lignum Crucis. Eye roll not withstanding, peering through the bars we saw a glass encased, gold encrusted sacred relic.

This was the Lignum Crucis or in lay terms, the largest known piece of the True Cross… left branch, mind you, of the cross Jesus died on. And, if you could look at it without the gold casing (created in the 18th century) you could see the nail hole for one of his hands, I mean, the sacred nail hole.

And, how did this priceless piece of wood come to be here you ask? Well, Emperor Constantine’s mom, Helen (Saint Elena now) (246/248-330 C.E.) discovered it along with the crucifixion nails, the holy tunic, and the crown of thorns belonging to Jesus. Historians can’t quite pinpoint how Camaleño managed to get their hands on this artifact; but it most likey arrived in the 8th century along with the remains of Santo Toribio de Astorga. Which is why this ancient monastery is known as “The Sanctuary of the Lignum Crucis”.

I didn’t see it but the monastery’s cloister has replicas of the “Commentary on the Book of the Apocalypse” by Beatus of Liébana (730-800). Drafted in 776 then revised twice over the next ten years, his work served as a rallying cry for his countrymen against the Moorish rule. Thus, it became a best seller, causing others to create over 34 versions (called “beatus”) from the 10th to the 16th centuries.

In a small gift shop you could obtain a bunch of Christian items, including several versions of a baby Jesus,

with price tags that probably pay for some good communion vino.

As tempting as it was, we decided to not bring one aboard to keep our pagan doll company.

Rgardless of who did what when, this stone grouping of quiet buildings nestled amongst the forested hill exudes peace. One we enjoyed in spite of our heatheness.

Back down the hill we drove into another popular destination, Potes. We eventually found a parking spot and joined other tourists out and about enjoying a warm summery day.

A tower offered some great views

and a quick history of the region beginning with the Roman conquest of NW Spain and continuning through the rise of the Inquisition.

And, remember the Beatus mentioned earlier? An exhibit featured replicas of these manuscripts, noting that a variety of institutions (Paris National Library, Madrid’s Royal Academy of History Library, New York City’s Morgan Library, etc.) hold the originals.

Since the majority of text appeared in Spanish we deciphered what we could- not quite understanding the Beatus’ significance, but appreciating the illustrations,

including some rather cartoonish expressions of Adam and Eve…

While I perused the Beatus Max joyfully occupied himself scouting out various placements for Flat Jesus, the most notable relating to the Inquisition.

An outdoor lunch (numerous sidewalk cafes mean very few choose to eat indoors) and people-watching ended our tour of Potes.

We continued on our journey while every now and then gazing heavenwarads to thank the road gods for the nets above us.

We stopped in at the 10th century church of Santa Maria de Liébana. Unfortunately, we had missed the confusing signage citing opening hours but did appreciate the setting, situated below a rock climbing school.

Santillana del Mar

Our last destination before Santander landed us in one of the quaintest medieval villages we’d seen in Spain:  Santillana del Mar. Thankfully, Linda mentioned this otherwise we might have missed it, which would have been a real mistake.

We paid a small entrance fee to access one of this village’s main sites:  Santa Juliana Collegiate Church.

Another fascinating religious structure educated us on the connection of the French King Luis IX (1214-70) to this region of Spain via his father’s (Luis VIII’s) marriage to Blanca de Castilla (1188-1252).

A display describes this king as one of the most prestigious figures of the Middle Ages. No doubt this reverance came from Louis’ devotion to the Christian faith (he’s the only French king named as a Saint). He wanted to trade his crown for a monk’s robe but knew his duty was to lead his people, which he did in the 7th and 8th crusades while spending boat loads of public funds on Christian relics (he built Sainte-Chapelle to hold these special items). Considering he zealously suppported the Inquisition, his reforming of the French legal system and the presumption of innocence seems a bit hypocritical. Eventually Luis got his halo and became Saint Luis in 1297.

For all his monkhood he certainly enjoyed the conjugal bed, for his wife Margaret of Provence (1221-95) popped out 11 kids.

We wandered along the cloister noting elaborate columns decorated with religious scenes

and an elaborate storyboard depicting the life of Christ,

which jolted us when it suddenly sparked into animation.

On our way to this site Max noticed a potential MDT (Max Disaster Tour), the Torture and Inquisition Museum. Oh boy.

However, when we met at the cafe (I decided to sit this one out) he said the displays present these despicable practices in historical context, and notes which ones continue to the present day in particular countries.

Another very historical site we unfortunately missed:  the Cave of Altimira with its 14,000 year-old paintings. But, hey, yet another reason to return to this magical region of Spain.

By 10pm we found ourselves standing in Santander’s small airport waiting for a special visitor to arrive. Soon we spotted my beautiful god daughter Maggie :)  She had made the trek from Lyons where her French studies had just ended and was joining us for a too-brief visit.

Oviedo

Back on JUANONA we fell into berths and woke Sunday morning for another day of sight-seeing. We made the short drive to the capital of Asturias, Oviedo, where we posed for photos in front of its famous cathedral in the Plaza Alphonse II El Casto,

listened to traditional music while watching costumed locals dance,

enjoyed some tapas and some of tapas including shaved slices of jamón,

and appreciated one of the stunning sculptures scattered throughout out this city.

A circular route back to Gijón included some back roads to another small church, again whose viewing hours we missed; but, we did see one of this area’s traditional hórreos or granaries.

Raised onto mushroom topped stones,

this design supposedly kept rodents out of the stored grain; however, I’d like to see a test run of this for all of us thought rats could scale those pillars pretty quickly if they’re anything like the squirrels at our feeders.

Cudillero

A quick drive down to the small harbor of Cudillero found us amidst a flood of locals and tourists. Against a steep backdrop of homes, cafes, and shops locals and tourists alike basked in the hot sun

with some getting a respite from the water.

After a whirlwind of a visit Maggie boarded a bus to Bilboa to meet her friends as well as reacquaint herself with her luggage that hadn’t arrived on her flight to us.

A quick provisioning at a huge supermercado and a wash down of JUANONA’s deck to remove coal dust from the loading port next door prepped us for our next adventure:  Galicia, which, to say it properly, start lisping!

I can’t leave this post without noting a favorite musician of mine who passed away July 16. Johnny Clegg, born 1953, was someone I discovered in the 1980s and followed ever since. Thanks to him, I have a wonderful memory of dancing my butt off with my cousin Cathy and friend Colleen in the early 1990s at a concert in Burlington, Vermont.

So, here’s to Johnny Clegg and the beauty of his music.

https://www.okayafrica.com/listen-to-ten-great-johnny-clegg-songs/