High days and holidays

It is the height of the holiday season here. The village population seems to have quadrupled in recent weeks as families arrive in their droves to stay with parents and grandparents; holiday homes that have sat empty and forlorn for eleven months have their shutters thrown back, their gardens tidied; tents pop up in gardens overnight like so many brightly-coloured mushrooms. There is more traffic in the valley than the rest of the year put together. Fiesta rockets pop and crump in the distance. Excited children whizz about on bikes and splash merrily in paddling pools. The lanes are dotted with new walkers, cyclists, runners . . . the village dogs don’t know which way to turn first. There is a lively buzz about the place, busyness and chatter and laughter and music and the smell of barbecues. Summer has well and truly landed.

We know from experience that for us, August is a time to stay put. After all, we are lucky to be able to climb mountains, stroll along beaches and visit local places in quieter moments and cooler weather, so why join the crowds? Our food cupboards and freezer are well-stocked, the garden is bulging with fruit and vegetables and we want for nothing. We live in a gorgeous spot with plenty to keep us busy; there is no need to go anywhere.

Backtracking a little, and we did treat ourselves to a mini break in late July just ahead of the main holiday chaos. Having cycled up the Senda del Oso (Bear Trail) several weeks earlier, we decided to return with our tent and and camp at the very top end of the trail near the village of Entrago.

The campsite was very reminiscent of the basic rural ones we favoured when our children were little, camping in the quieter coastal spots of Pembrokeshire and Cornwall. No designated pitches, no electric hook-ups, definitely no shop or swimming pool: just a mown field with water and simple toilet and shower facilities. A captivating view from the tent door rendered the location complete!

I do have to confess, though, that unlike those Spartan days of yore that saw us sleeping on camping mats (or unreliable inflatable mattresses that inevitably went down in the night so I woke with one hip firmly embedded in the ground . . .), these days we do like a bit of comfort in the tent. To this end, several years ago we invested in a couple of canvas safari beds and with an old double futon mattress on top, a proper duvet, pillows and – yes! – crisp cotton sheets, it seems we can glamp with the best of them. A simple life doesn’t necessarily have to be uncomfortable, after all. ๐Ÿ™‚

It might appear a bit odd camping somewhere not much more than an hour away from home but there were two good reasons for doing this. First, tempting though it is to get out and explore the entire Iberian Peninsula, we are well aware that there is still so much of Asturias we haven’t yet seen . . . and honestly, it never fails to deliver.

Also, staying for a couple of nights gave us the chance to ditch the car, pull on our rucksacks and stride out to really explore the area on foot, without having to drive home at the end of a long day.

The Bear Trail was certainly much busier than when we cycled it but once off that well-beaten track, we had the paths to ourselves. In fact, in two days of walking we literally didn’t meet another soul doing the same. The routes we took were all well-maintained and clearly marked, the scenery as ever quite stunning at each turn and the wildlife varied and abundant.

Following an ancient track which climbed a steep but blissfully green and shady valley to the medieval village of Bandujo, I wondered how many thousands of footsteps had passed that way before, how many lives and stories had been bound to that magical, leafy path.

The village itself was quite beautiful, perched on a mountainside with soaring views and, despite obvious (and necessary) modernisation, a profound sense of timelessness. We sat beneath the tower in the shade of an horreo and ate our picnic, watching a man scything grass on a slope so steep, it made our garden look like a stroll in the park. What a place this is!

Being close to the southern edge of Asturias, we decided our exploration wouldn’t be complete without climbing to Puerto de Ventana, the mountain pass at an altitude of 1,587 metres (5,206 feet) where Asturias meets the neighbouring province of Leรณn. A truly breathtaking panorama greeted us on our arrival, the majestic craggy mountains towering above a wide and open landscape, so very different to the lush, green one behind us.

In days gone by, los vaqueros from the plains below would, at the first snowfall, leave their wives to care for the children and farms in order to drive their cattle up through the pass to spend the winter months grazing in the kinder climate of Asturias. I was fascinated to read how the herd would be led by a matriarch (similar to elephants, I suppose) who would instinctively forge a safe path through snow that was often chest deep. I can’t even begin to imagine what an undertaking that journey was, how cold, difficult and fraught with danger it must have been. Right at the top of the pass, a group of several huge mountain dogs lazed in the sunshine like a pack of placid lions, totally indifferent to our presence . . . but the spiked metal collars round their necks were a reminder that even though the transhumance may no longer be so marked, the threat of wolves in the night is still very much there.

It’s funny how a short time away from home can feel like it was so much longer, perhaps because we managed to pack a lot of activities into a couple of days. It’s also the perfect way to have a holiday and know that the garden isn’t going to die of drought, neglect or wild boar visitations in our absence. Mind you, we did have visitors of another kind this week, not quite what we want to see mooching towards the vegetable patch – but maybe they felt it was time for them to have a holiday somewhere else, too?

The recent weather has been typical of the season, mostly very warm and dry with some days that hail a greater blast of heat, some that bring a dollop of rain. It’s the kind of weather that brings us beautiful skies . . .

. . . and sadly, not so beautiful ones: the plume in the middle of the photo below isn’t cloud but smoke from a huge fire. Thankfully, it’s the first wildfire we’ve seen this year but it was a massive one, taking the bomberos a whole day of fighting to bring it under control through their relentless shuttles between the fire and water reservoir in helicopters (and even an aeroplane this time).

It’s nice to think there may not be any more this year and certainly, waking to a day of steady rain yesterday brought a definite feeling of relief as the parched earth received a generous soaking.

I love the freshness such summer rain brings, the way everything responds and perks up after a good drink, the heady, spiced scents of wet earth and leaves and the renewed sweetness of raindrop-spattered flowers.

There is no more rain forecast for the next two weeks at least and with the heat set to build once more, it looks like we could be busy with the watering can in a while. In the meantime, we will continue enjoying our August staycation and all the natural blessings and beauty it brings. ๐Ÿ™‚