September 27, 2022
- Route: Cobreces to Serdio
- Distance: 28.2 kilometers (17.5 miles)
- Cumulative Distance: 364.5 km
After dinner with Renato last night, I walked back up the hill to my beach hotel in the cool wind. My hand-washed clothes were still hanging on the line outside the window (thanks to the small handful of clothespins I’d brought along on this Camino), but I knew I’d need to bring them inside to finish drying. More rain was in the forecast overnight.
I departed Cobreces at 7:45 am this morning while it was still dark out. The ground below my feet was still quite was wet from the overnight rain, but the precipitation was currently holding off. It was just a windy and warm morning, as I let my eyes adjust to the early morning twilight.
The Camino dipped back down to the small cove of a beach that I’d visited yesterday evening before dinner, then it turned inland to follow the river as it led away from the ocean.
Soon, I climbing back up to the top of a headland where small farmhouses and barns were perched. The pungent smell of wet animals and manure emanated from several of the outbuildings, and the farmers were busy caring for their livestock.
The first major climb of the day was challenging enough that I was sweating inside my rain pants. I stripped off my rain pants in haste, so as to avoid making them a clammy, moist mess. In hindsight though, I probably should have just pulled the legs up to my knees like I done the last few days, because I could see the torrents of rain heading my way.
Barely 10 minutes later, I was quickly donning my rain pants once again as the first of the fat drops of water hit my face and arms. A storm was imminent, and what’s worse – there would be wind.
As I’d feared yesterday, I was now going to endure the experience of heavy rain and strong, 20 mph winds. My umbrella was utterly useless in these conditions, and it was nearly ripped out of my hand the moment I tried to open it.
With the protection of my umbrella to shield me, I was drenched in a matter minutes. My ultralight rain jacket and rain pants were no match for a coastal squall. They completely wet out in under five minutes and clung to me like I’d just jumped into a pool while fully clothed.
Luckily, I was barely away a kilometer from a commercial campground when the downpour began. So I was able to head for cover and wait the worst of the storm out once I arrived there.
The large campground even had a small bar where I could order a cup of hot coffee. But before I could even take my first sip, the rain suddenly stopped! It was as is someone turned off the faucet in the sky. The clouds were still gray and threatening, but the deluge was over. So I finished my coffee and decided to head back outdoors to test my luck.
COASTAL VIEWS & WIND
The next few hours were completely dry, and there were even some brief glimpses of blue in the sky. I knew better than to assume the rain was truly over as I continued walking west toward the next town. The coast can be a fickle mistress and the weather forecast wasn’t looking favorable. But at least my outlook was — I didn’t want to quit the Camino today.
As I crested a dirt road, I could hear the loud waves of the ocean even before I saw them. The town of Comillas was ahead of me, and I was finished with the first 10 kilometers of the day before I even knew it.
Following the Camino meant I missed out on most of the ocean views because the route dodged inland past the polideportivo (sports center) on its way to the old part of the city.
Once in town, I celebrated my relatively good pace this morning with a leisurely stop at a bakery for a napolitana and café con leche. As I devoured both, the skies seemed to clear even more, with a deep blue color trying to creep out from between the clouds.
I finished up my snack, then took the lovely walk through the narrow cobblestone roads of the town square before heading out of town past the elaborate neo-gothic Sobrellano Palace. Originally built as the Marqués de Comillas’ summer palace in 1888, visitors can now take guided tours of the palace. This wasn’t in the cards for me, but I did enjoy stopping to take a few photo of the building and the grounds.
Once out of town and across the river, my route followed the coastline toward Playa Oyambre and then Oyambe National Park. A steady wind picked up again, and another rainstorm seem inevitable. But the only thing that materialized were some sprinkles here and there.
I followed the Camino as it wound its way around the edge of a golf course, which seemed to have the ruins of an old medieval stone building sitting between the greens. “What a truly bizarre place to build a golf course,” I thought to myself.
Just beyond the greens, the land transitioned back to beaches and tall cliffs. And this was undoubtedly surf territory. Cars and campervans lined the beach’s parking lots, with wetsuits hanging over open doors to dry.
But even long parking lots weren’t enough room to meet the demand of all the surfers hoping to ride the waves at Playa Oyambe. A full campground sat across the road, and handpainted signs advertised daily parking for 3€ a day even further up the road in private lots (which just looked like plain grassy fields) .
The crescent of sandy beach stretched out for miles, and dozens of tiny black dots bobbed in the ocean waves – all of them surfers waiting in the water for the right wave to ride.
As I climbed higher on the bluffs, the views only got better. But the wind was now raging. Off to my left, I could see the outline of a tall mountain range shrouded in dark clouds. These jagged peaks formed the Picos de Europa (peaks of Europe) and seemed insanely tall compared to the rolling hills I’ve been hiking over the past few days.
And the higher I climbed up the cape above the ocean, the wind seemed to get even stronger until I felt as it I was being blown sideways as I walked.
Just as I started to reach the highest point of the climb, I spotted a red and white sign indicating “children crossing.” But from my perspective, it felt as it was warning about children being blown across the road by the wind — which felt wholly possible, given the current conditions.
And then I finally crested the top of the grassy headland and was heading back down to the string of beaches on its opposite side.
If I’d been hoping for a reprieve from the wind here though, I was in for a heap of disappointment. The opposite side of the headland was windier than anything I’d experienced all day. It had to be blowing at least 25 mph.
I’d tightened my baseball-style cap down so much that it felt as it it was making an indentation in my forehead. And yet, I still found my hand repeatedly flying to the brim to keep my hat from flying away in the gale force winds.
Meanwhile, the beach ahead of me was just as sandy and pretty as the one on the prior side of the cape. Yet there were no surfers hanging out here. The parking lots were completely empty. I guess these waves were just too violent and the winds too strong!
A small surf town sat at the base of the beach, and its cluster of concrete buildings provided a nice respite from the wind. And then the Camino turned inland again.
Lunch & Laundry
Shortly after the small surf town, I found myself at the edge of a bay with a long arched bridge from the 15th century heading over it.
Several old men stood on the stone bridge with their fishing rods casting off it, though I had no idea what they might be fishing for. The tide was clearly out, as evidenced by the dozens of boats stranded on sandbars in the estuary.
On the opposite side of this bridge sat the town of San Vicente de La Baquera – a moderately large coastal town with a laundromat, which I desperately needed.
I’ve been hand-washing my hiking clothes the last three nights, but they are desperately in need of a more thorough wash. They just smell horrible from all my sweating inside my rain gear these past few days.
This lousy odor is especially true of my socks! I’ve had to wear the same pair of socks over and over each day, as I still don’t have an extra pair to replace the ones I lost back in Portugalete five days ago.
Losing my extra hiking sock left me without any option but to wear semi-clean, yet semi-damp socks every day. And several consecutive days of rain and mud have saturated my socks and shoes so many times over that I feel as it they’re now starting growing a layer of funky algae.
As I walked into San Vicente, I located the laundromat and discovered it was just two doors down from a local pizzeria. Perfect! I could eat a late lunch and do laundry while I was in town!
Unfortunately, the pizzeria’s food turned out to be truly mediocre. But it gave me two things I desperately needed: (1) a bathroom where I could to change out of my hiking clothes and into something clean; and (2) a place to sit and eat lunch while my hiking clothes were washing and drying.
After this extended stop for lunch and laundry, I was set. An hour and a half after entering San Vicente, I was walking out with clean hiking clothes once again. All that was left was to tackle the final 8 kilometers of my day and get to Serdio, where I have a reservation for the night.
ANOTHER CAMINO
This final leg of today’s journey took me back into the hills again where I temporarily crossed paths with new set of trail makers. Red crosses that looked like the Knights of Templar symbol marked a Camino route between San Vicente de la Baquera and Tama.
This 73-kilometer long path is part of an 8th century pilgrimage route to the Lignum Crucis (‘true cross’) at the monastery of Santo Toribio de Liébana. Pilgrims on this path are headed inland to the monastery that claims to protect the largest surviving piece the cross that Jesus of Nazareth was crucified upon.
According to the Catholic Church, Saint Toribio of Astorga was charged with protecting the relics of Jesus’s crucifixion in Jerusalem during the 5th century. And he brought a fragment from the cross’s left arm back to the Iberian Peninsula to safeguarde it in Astorga.
However, during the Moorish invasion of Spain in 711 AD, Christian followers relocated the relic to the monastery in Liébana to protect it form possible attacks. And once the presence of the relic became known, the faithful then began making their pilgrimage to the monastery, creating what is now known as the Camino Lebaniego.
My own route only followed this second pilgrimage route for a few kilometers before diverging from it, but I was intrigued by it nonetheless. Perhaps on my next trip to Spain might include a visit. But today my focus was merely on getting to the town of Serdio.
Serdio was an unremarkable hamlet nestled deep into the Cantabrian countryside. But it was just about the right distance to get me into Llanes tomorrow, which is why I had a reservation at the town’s hosteleriá. No relics. No tourists. Just a quiet little town with one small restaurant that served some good food.
