In the dim light, I left my pension with all the lights on. In the fishing village of Ribadesella, which is also a tourist attraction, I stopped briefly at the large church where Rientje had slept. As in previous years, the Archangel Gabriel allows him to accompany me, but in the evenings, he must sleep on the highest church tower. Here, it is the 19th-century church with two towers on the west side and a large statue of Christ in between. I suspect he slept atop the large statue, as I saw something move as I passed by, followed by a fluttering. Maybe it was the seagulls, but I know that Rientje is always with me.
Ribadesella
I stopped at the only café that was already open, a fisherman's café, for a large café con leche and asked for a stamp. Yesterday, the church opened too late, and now it was too early. Afterward, I cycled around the harbor once more and took the direction towards Gijón via the N-632. Normally, that is about 70 km. To my left, the rugged Picos de Europa were awakening, with mountain peaks reaching up to 2,648 meters, almost touching the coast. Fortunately, there is enough space for the old national road, the N-632, alongside which they first laid a railway and later a highway, because everything has to be fast. These three infrastructures are close together because there is little space in the valley between the mountains and the sea. Last night, it thundered and rained, so my bike was wet this morning, but now it is gray, and I will not see the beautiful Picos de Europa in the sun today, unfortunately. The landscape around me is once again agricultural, with cows, meadows, and some fields. I pass through several small villages and see more and more old, square wooden barns standing on four stone pillars, with a flat stone on top to keep out rodents. One of these barns has even been converted into a tourist information point.
Ribadellan and the Picos de Europa in the rain and the mist. One of the churches and the barns on my way
On the way, I also see two beautiful churches with galleries on the sides of the nave, possibly for people to chat after mass or to hold processions. The church of Saint Stephen is one such beautiful church. Amidst this beautiful nature and culture, I quietly, without much traffic, reach the village of Colunga. Suddenly, many pilgrims appear, who had stayed there overnight and are continuing their journey. The road I follow lies on or near the Camino del Norte. The town has a special air of decayed splendor from the 19th century, with old houses that have been beautifully restored. Thousands of pilgrims have passed through here, now mostly sports enthusiasts, I think. In the past, pilgrims had various reasons to embark on their journey, ranging from religious motives to judicial punishments.
Colunga
I overtake a cyclist and greet him kindly with a "Buen Camino." A bit further, I take some photos of the landscape, and he passes me again. When I see him again, he is driving two calves back into their pasture from the road. His name is Emiel, 66 years old, and single. He deserted the Spanish army and fled to France, where he worked as a mason in Arles all his life. As a retiree, he moved to Vitoria-Gasteiz in the Basque Country, where his past has been forgotten. Now he often cycles 80 km a day to stay fit. We part ways in Villaviciosa, where I take the small road to the pre-Romanesque and Gothic site of Valdedios. He finds that road too difficult. Emiel promises me a coffee if we meet again later, but unfortunately, that doesn't happen. Fortunately, I still have a photo of him and us together.
Villaviciosa. Yves and Emiel
I had forgotten that Valdedios is 10 km from the N-632, so I have to cycle an additional 20 km, but I don't mind. It is truly a unique place in a small valley, near a river. The old pre-Romanesque church was built in the 9th century by Alfonso III the Great, King of Asturias. He decided to retreat there after his children took over his power... it happens in the best of families! Later, around 1200, a Cistercian monastery was built next to it in late Romanesque or early Gothic style. The buildings of this order always exude simplicity and austerity. No grandeur and splendor, and not too many pedagogical depictions for the people, because they wanted to live self-sufficiently and from the work of their own hands: agriculture, fish farming, cheese, and later beer.
The church of Valdedios
The pre-Romanesque church from the 9th century is a truly large shrine dedicated to Christ the Savior, or San Salvador. There are clear Moorish influences with horseshoe arches and lattice windows. The church exudes simplicity and charm, with special lighting, few images, simple leaf capitals, and remnants of frescoes in earth tones. I wait until I am alone, and that doesn’t take long, as there are few people around for now. Then, I stand quietly in a corner to enjoy and let the church sink in: you see small details, you feel the calm atmosphere, and you come to rest.
Valdedios: the Romanesque church
After that, I visit the late Romanesque or early Gothic church of the abbey. The Cistercians were quick to embrace Gothic art. The church is dedicated to Santa Maria la Real, for they worshiped Mary (and still do). They always end the day with the song "Salve Regina, Mater misericordiae..." When sung well, it goes through marrow and bone. As someone from Ypres, I dare to compare it to the Last Post played under the Menin Gate, which also calls for peace. Finally, I visit the cloister with three floors: Gothic, Renaissance, and Classical. In the courtyard of the cloister, the boxwood hedges are pruned in the shape of a Chi-Rho symbol with alpha and omega. While a guard isn’t paying attention, I climb a wall for a better photo. In the church, many baroque altars were added in the 17th century, but the church remains calm and atmospheric. After an hour and a half, with a lot of delay, I leave this wonderful place and take one more photo of the dovecote, for the monks liked to eat pigeon.
Valdedios: The Early Gothic church and the cloister
I cycle back down, 10 km to Villaviciosa, to take the road to Gijón, which rises more than it descends, even though I only have 35 km to go. I notice that I have only 10 km of battery left and urgently need to charge. I ask a woman and later a farmer if I can get some electricity, but both resolutely refuse. The farmer says it only goes downhill from here, although it keeps rising. So I pedal on. I greet a man in front of a house, and he wishes me a "Buen Camino" with a broad smile. I turn back and ask him if I can recharge. "Of course," says Alberto, and a minute later, he returns with an extension cord. I ask if I can have lunch in front of his door while charging, and he suggests using the table in his house. He offers me wine, beer, coffee, or cider, a local specialty. I take a photo of him and tell him that he will appear on my blog. He asks for information about the Rinus Pini Foundation and the website. Five minutes later, he returns; his wife has read everything about the foundation. He insists that I have something to drink, and I gladly accept a coffee after lunch.
Valdedios. Alberto. Gijón in the distance
Alberto used to run a company that made rubber parts for some machines, but now he is retired. He has only one son, who doesn’t have a wife or children yet. He says it gives him great satisfaction to help me, and I thank him for his hospitality. We say goodbye and shed a tear. How wonderful, sensitive, and loving people can be, while the grumpy ones just have to be taken as they come. One thing I know for sure after 25 days on the road: hospitality, kindness, and willingness to help strangers still exist.
Around 4 p.m., I arrive at a small apartment in a suburb of Gijón. Five rooms, two toilets, and two showers to share, but it is neat. I have to carry my bike up to the first floor myself, and it can sleep with me—what nice company. I walk around the neighborhood a bit, do some shopping, eat alone as usual, and write my blog. Tomorrow, I can sleep in, as I only have 30 km to cycle to the airport in Avilés, where Bruno is landing around 2:30 p.m. I’m really looking forward to it... Still, I’ll go to bed early.
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