Posts Tagged ‘weather’

En castellano It wasn’t going exactly to plan.

We had left the coach, twelve hardy souls who were planning on doing Torrecerredo, at Sotres (880m), but the lowish cloud and the forecast scuppered the original idea of going up to the refugio Urriellu via the path to the South East and instead we opted to go the normal route via Pandébano (1212m) and past the collado vallejo (1540m). The weather was misty and drizzly and generally not the most pleasant but it eased off and we dried out a little, then on the last half hour pull up to the refugio (1953m) it came down again with a wet vengeance. We arrived at the refugio earlier than expected, wet through and dispirited.

So this was not the plan, not at all

After a few hours of sitting and waiting (and chatting and walking round keeping warm) it was time to eat and that raised spirits. The refugio has a capacity of about a hundred but given the poor conditions there was just us, a group of about thirty from Madrid and a smattering of other walkers and climbers. The food was okay, thin noodle soup followed by stewed lentils and then meatballs, when the pudding of fruit salad (can you call it a fruit salad if it’s just peaches and pears? I’m not sure) Ignacio commented that he hadn’t needed his fork, it was spoon spoon spoon then little spoon. There’s not much to do in these huts after dinner so we retired to the dormitory and slept.

A promising start

Dawn had actually brought the sun, or at least clear skies and after a less than hearty breakfast (biscuits, melba toast, butter, jam, cocoa) we set off up the Brecha de los Cazadores (hunter’s gap) (2300m or so), and on to the Jou de Cerredo (2400m or so).

Still on the way up, just past Hunter's Gap

The path is pretty well marked until you leave the normal hut-to-hut path and head for Torre Cerredo, then it’s a bit thinner, and you have to cross a few slabs. These would normally be no problem, but the previous night’s rain, combined with the freezing overnight temperatures meant that a lot of the rocks were coated with ice and were a mite slippy. A couple of the slabs were crossed entertainingly high, say, 20m above a rocky terrace. It’s a good job it’s grippy Spanish limestone and not the polished English stuff.

Delicacy on ice

We reached the base of the peak and agreed that the ice would make the ascent too dangerous (it’s a proper scramble, and you have to come down the same way). So we sat there and basked in the sun and had Eccles cakes (well Liz and I did, blimey they’re good, I wonder if we could introduce them here). A few people came down from the peak and reported that they hadn’t been able to go up because of the ice. So the right decision.

At the refugio de los cabrones

That just left the down. We descended steep paths to the refugio de los Cabrones (2060m) where we refilled water bottles and had a little peek at the cute 28 place hut, then a bit of a climb (more slabs, some cables, some old tatty rope in some parts) and then a long stoney path down through cloud to the Majada Amuesa (1386m). A majada is a high meadow, there were no cows though, only  vultures swooping and landing. Then a punishing descent over mud covered slippy rocks to Bulnes (647m) during which we were just thinking of a cold beer in one of the bars there. All that remained was the hour’s walk down from Bulnes to Poncebos (220m) to complete a long day.

No pasaba según lo planeado.

Habíamos bajado del autobús en la curvona de Sotres (880m) , doce fuertes quien pensaban en hacer el Torrecerredo pero las nubes bajas y el pronostico echó por tierra la idea de subir hasta el refugio de Urriellu por el camino del sureste y en su lugar elegimos a ir por el camino normal por Pandébano (1212m) y por el collado Vallejo (1540m). Hacía niebla con orbayu, un tiempo desagradable pero lo peor pasó y secamos un poco. Después, durante la ultima media hora subiendo hasta el refugio (1953m) llovió de nuevo de verdad. Llegamos al refugio mas temprano que esperábamos, empapados y desanimados.

Después de unas horas de sentarse y esperar (y charlar y pasearnos de un lado a otro para calentarnos) llegó la hora de cenar que nos animó. El refugio tiene la capacidad para alrededor de cien pero en tan malo tiempo había nosotros, un grupo de madrileños y unos pocos escaladores y excursionistas. La cena fue regular, una sopa de fideos, lentejas y después albóndigas, cuando llegó el postre de ensalada de frutas (no sé si es una ensalada de frutas si contiene solo peras y melocotones) Ignacio comento que no había usado el tenedor, sopa con cuchara, primer plato con cuchara, segundo, cuchara, postre, cucharita. No hay mucho para hacer en los refugios así que nos retiramos y nos acostamos.

Amaneció con sol, o por lo menos un cielo despejado entonces después un desayuno ligero (bizcochos, pan tostado, mantequilla, mermelada, colacao) salimos hacia la Brecha de los Cazadores (2300m más o menos) y después hasta el jou de Cerredo (2400m más o menos).

El camino es bien marcado hasta que sales del camino normal entre refugios y tiras para el Torre Cerredo, en este caso queda mas estrecho y tienes que cruzar por unas losas, normalmente no causarían ningún problema, pero después la lluvia y la temperatura baja de la noche anterior muchas de las rocas quedaban cubierta de hielo y resbaladizas. Cruzamos unas lozas con una altura entretenida, 20m encima de una terraza rocosa. Menos mal que es caliza española con adherencia no la inglesa pulida.

Llegamos al base del pico y decidimos que el hielo significó que la escalada sería demasiada peligrosa (hay que trepar, y tienes que bajar por la misma vía), así que nos sentimos y disfrutamos el sol, comimos “Eccles cakes” (un pastelito Inglés) (pues por lo menos Liz y yo comimos así, son buenos, me pregunto si podríamos introdulirlos aquí). Unas personas bajaban y nos dijeron que no habían sido capaz de subir por el hielo, entonces fue la decisión correcta.

Solo nos quedaba la bajada. Bajamos por senderos empinados hasta el refugio de los Cabrones (2060m) donde las cargamos las cantimploras y echamos una miradita al refugio guapo con solo 28 plazas, después, una subida (más losas, unos cables, una cuerda muy antigua y estropeada) y luego un sendero pedregoso tras las nubes hasta la Majada Amuesa(1386m). Luego un descenso duro por rocas que estuvieron cubiertas de barro hasta Bulnes (647m), durante que pensábamos solo de unas cervezas bien frías en un bar allí. Lo único que nos quedó fue el camino de una hora desde Bulnes hasta Poncebos (220m) para acabar un día largo.

Yeah, come to Asturias, it’ll be great, no, the weather won’t be terrible in June, not in June. Pack an umbrella just in case, and a jumper, maybe wellies. But it’ll be fine.

We can go canoeing down the river Sella, it looks like this, this is June…

Almost any Sunday in June on the Sella

Not like this, although this is June too, last week in fact (this is not the Sella, athough it looked remarkably similar).

How the Sella looked last week

You can learn new words too, like la tromba… which means downpour (or tornado) and will appear in the local paper headlines along with phrases like ‘local restaurant washed into the sea’.

Restaurant washed into the sea

This is what faced the Wyke clan when they came to enjoy the late Asturian spring. One day of sun, then cloud and rain. Still, they’re a hardy bunch and enjoyed the stuff they were able to do. After all, it didn’t rain continuously, and we had the enjoyment of watching the river rise by about three metres (it was well above the concrete bases of the pillars in the first picture).

I would recommend visiting in July, August or September, but really, this could probably happen any time (just like England in 2007).

The view for most of the way

The last day of this section started earlier than planned. Liz was woken up in the middle of the night by some banging and howling outside. Some local yoot were up to no good. Julio got up and made sure the door was locked but Liz said the noise was a bit of a shock (I dozed on unaware, having left my mp3 player earbuds in to drown out the symphony of snoring that the six other chaps in the room were producing). The day dawned, cloudy but not raining, so we got everything together and set off as far as a bar round the corner for breakfast. A word about breakfast in Spain, it has as much importance here as The Star Spangled Banner has in Huddersfield, ie not a lot. Although the coffee is good, the accompanying squares of fairy cake (bizcocho), while pleasant enough, leave you with the sensation of not quite having prepared for the day. In the bar we were served two packaged cakes each, 8am is too early for the kitchens to be open in most places so the far more filling pinchos have to wait until later.

The main altar at Vilabade

In the ten minutes it took to eat it had started raining heavily. Stepping outside, I opened my umbrella to see that it had a couple of snapped spokes and a hole… it was a cheap one, but I hoped it would survive the day. We walked up the last uphill stretch for the time being and through yet more pine forests, this part of Spain is full of plantations serving a few paper mills, it’s pretty big business. The path was better today and we made good time. The rain stopped as we came down through Vilabade, where there was a big grey church which used to be part of a monastery. It reminded me of rural Ireland, mossy grey buildings and slate roofs and an overwhelming sense of catholicism. In Castroverde we stopped in a bar, where my rucksack became the departure point for the dozens of ants that had hitched a ride  from the albergue decided to make a dash for it. The sun came out, then went in again as we set off.

Only 5km to go, Liz takes a break, she's not dead.

We kept up a fine pace and didn’t feel particularly tired until the last 5k to Lugo (it was a longer day than the others, 30km) which was a pain. We had planned to eat in Lugo so we were running on empty (and energy bars). Lugo is on a hill but that hill is pretty small and surrounded by bigger hills so we didn’t see it until we crossed over the motorway. There had been some discussion about our plans. Julio had originally wanted to stay the night in Lugo and get the bus back the next evening, we had thought about getting the first bus out of Lugo and getting back to Oviedo as soon as we could. We eventually compromised and said we’d get the bus at 8:45 that evening. We headed to the albergue to dump our rucksacks, it was early, 3:30 so we were in time to eat. The chap in the albergue gave us a recommendation for where to eat and we did. Julio was determined to eat cocido gallego, which is a Galician stew, but nowhere served it while we were there so he had to content himself with knowing he could phone ahead for the next stage and pre-order.

Lugo in the rain, Julio's umbrella was as bad as mine

After lunch we took a stroll, it had started raining again, stronger this time and we took refuge in the cathedral. A warden noticed our muddy disheveled looks and came over to stamp our credentials. Then she offered to give us a tour of the cathedral, which is basically listing all the saints and virgins (I particularly liked Holy Mary of the big eyes) and a bit of the architectural history of the building. The rain had not stopped so we suggested to Julio that we get the earlier bus, leaving the town for the summer. Unfortunately there were no places left so we had to stick to our original plan and console ourselves with a wet walk on the roman wall. Lugo has an intact roman wall (originally with 85 towers) and I’m sure it’s lovely when the sun shines, but what I remember are the numerous houses with collapsed slate roofs, the damp and the moss and lichen growing on each wall. We killed time in a cake shop and then in a bar until the bus was due and then slept for the five hours back to Oviedo. The final part will be in the first week of August, it’ll probably rain then too.

oh, there you are, taking photos again...

The forecast said sun. But it also said that there was a cloudbank heading in from the east, snowing heavily over the Basque country. We were hoping for some stunning views of the Picos de Europa, that planned walk was to take us up the hills just to the north east of the Picos and if all went well we’d have the snowy peaks on one side and the sea on the other.

As it turned out, the tops were in cloud and we all felt a little disappointed. So we made up for it with snowball fights when we decided we were high enough (ie, just below the mist) for the team photo.

So yet another peak we have to go back to, what a damn shame.

The papers were full of it, the news on TV said that fifty provinces in Spain were on High Alert.

“Xynthia will hit Asturias today” according to El Comercio, yesterday.

“The principality ask citizens to take measures to protect themselves before the arrival of the cyclone”

What measures are these, we asked? Well, close your windows, move your pot plants and pull your shutters down. Oh and we’re not going to do any rubbish collection so that we don’t have empty bins flying round. Oh and don’t go out in your car… and look at the red and yellow alerts… look! They’re Red! And Yellow!

They forecast 160km/h winds. We cancelled our plan to go to Gijón with Cova and Julio and try out a certain Mexican restaurant, which we had been looking forward to…

Instead we met at La Más Barata for some rice (which wasn’t bad (for which read bloomin’ gorgeous), chipirones (baby squid) and smoked cheese… which both Julio and I plumped for and devoured). Mexican food will have to wait.

All day on the news they were tracking the storm, which actually was causing severe damage almost everywhere else in the North of Spain. In Oviedo, it was a bit breezy. Fresh, you might say, a blowy evening in Greetland…

The storm blew over and upset the forecast for today too, which had been sunshine and showers, lots of showers. We woke up early to go out with the walking group and it was blue sky and a light breeze. That seemed to be it as far as the weather went. We were walking in Teverga, up to 1760m, so in snow for most of the walk (mud for the rest). Beautiful.

Stunning views, snowy ridge walk, sunshine, cup o’ tea at the top. You could not ask for more.

We finished in San Martín, taking over a hotel bar as we all had our sarnies. Once again I was struck by how ‘Irish’ the Asturians can be as Julio (not the same one) and Andrés argued over who was going to pay for what. I’d messed things up by paying for the wine, Julio had snuck in and paid for his coffee and some spirits which left Andrés complaining that there was nothing left for him to pay for ‘except the champagne’ until we kindly offered to let him buy us another round of spirits… a selfless act which led to Liz sleeping all the way home on the bus.

Catedral de Oviedo
Originally uploaded by José Antonio Carretero.

It’s gone now, but when we arrived back here on Monday morning we found that the city had been rather snowier than normal. Last year we had snow laying on the ground for half a day. This time for three days.

Things have returned to normal, it’s raining.

The forecast was not great but it was pretty accurate. So Liz had her cape and I had my big umbrella ready when we stepped of the train at Grado.

We needed them, because the rain kept coming and going… as soon as the umbrellas were up, the rain would ease off a little, then the minute they were closed, down it came. Still, not a problem really because we were tramping through delightful little villages, marvelling at some of the very neat gardens, the huge kiwi fields, the massive stacks of logs chopped and waiting for winter. We climbed out of Grado to a church on top of a mist covered hill, very atmospheric. The priest invited us into the back so he could stamp our pilgrim certificates. A few people were turning up for the Sunday mass and they pointed us off down the quickest way. They’re building a dual carriageway there, so the camino is a bit more complicated than normal. No matter though, it’s usually well signposted.

22km to Las Salas, where we ate in a seafood themed restaurant, the only place open and serving. Salas is a pretty little town, created in 1270 by Alfonso the wise as part of the trade route to Galicia. The camino follows that route still and crosses bridges and passes fountains which have been in use for 1200 years or more. In Salas Julio complained about his boots, new ones, that he was considering taking a knife to.

He soldiered on, as did we, in the gloom, up a taxing climb in the last light of the day. Then the fog came, and more rain. We watched as the 6pm bus went past us on the other side of the valley, the next one would be at 9. So no rush. We had a coffee in a new hostel and chatted to the guardian, a valencian who had sold his sportswear shop to buy a ruined house and live the Asturian good life. He proudly showed us his renovated horreo (the wooden grain stores that are ubiquitous here), which he had fitted out underneath with a stove and bathroom, as well as a kitchen and bedroom.

We carried on to La Espina and drank shandy in a very local bar (for local people) until the bus arrived. Thirty some kilometres, so not an inconsequential day.

Well, not really horror, but the first snowy walk of the season. Although Liz’s expression was a fleeting one, and subsequently replaced by the more usual smile.

We were supposed to start in León, at 1200m but the guys in the group were a bit worried about the roads up there (and the forecast wind, and snow). So we changed our plans and did a much lower walk. There was still a bit of wind (so much so that at one point I was unable to use my umbrella for a couple of minutes!! No, really, there was a fresh breeze (maybe 40mph gusting to 60) and it broke a few brollys (which needed to be deployed in a shield like manner for the horizontal rain sleet and snow).

We reached the snow, wet and cold… that’s us not the snow (although that was cold and wet too) and didn’t wait to take a photo… just headed down along swollen rivers through autumnal forests.

Back in the village we started from we (the faster walkers, who had the time while waiting for the slower ones) took advantage of the bar and had egg and chips (Pompeyo’s favourite food, and a steal in this place at €2.25).

Then for a complete change of pace later on we went to the luxurious Auditorio Principe Felipe to see the fantastic Kroke… a snippet of which is already on youtube (although the quality is poor so this clip is better).

So after a brief interlude in the UK, packing up the contents of the house ready for the tenant to move in, listening to the cricket for four days, watching the rain dance its way across the Pennines, we arrived back in Asturias on Monday afternoon to a lethargic, humid heat.

That lasted all of two days, because yesterday it rained a bit… a lot… it caught a lot of people off guard (even though the weather forecast was right on the money), girls in strappy tops and gladiator sandals trudging round looking miserably wet.

On the TV weather last night they showed Murcia having a top temperature of 42C. Oviedo had 18C (well, it felt a little warmer, but not, you know, hot). I’m all in favour of this sort of thing as 40C is not a temperature for Anglo Saxons (or Celts)…

The other thing that seemed to change is Nemesis the seagull, he’s not so agressive now, and we noticed the other night that there are three chicks (well, they’re a bit big to be called chicks) on the roof opposite. They flap their wings ineffectually and make whingy teenage-seagull noises while mum and dad flap around being proud. So we have our terrace back. Just in time for the rain…

Hardy tourists Originally uploaded by itsjustanalias.

Despite the snow in the rest of Spain, Asturias seems to have a Cornwall-like ocean influenced climate. So here it just rains (although tomorrow the forecast is for snow down to 200m so we may get a dusting.

It rains a lot. But it’s not windy (usually).

So umbrellas are ubiquitous. That means that every shop, bar, flat and indoor space has an umbrella stand or two near the door (it’s bad form to trail a dripping brolly through somewhere).

Posh places, and those where you can’t leave your umbrella, like the hospital and the big department store El Corte Ingles, have an automatic umbrella bagging machine. You insert your umbrella in the top and it slides into a bag. Very sensible.