The Red Rock, The Pink Cathedral, Picos De Europa National Park, and Your Moment of Picos Zen!

Our first day, after a really great hotel breakfast, we headed out for the grand vistas of the Picos De Europa National Park. It began with more driving on impossibly small and very winding roads, and then the road continued to climb and get narrower.

On the way up, we passed a four-foot high stone marker on the edge of the road that was painted bright, bright red. The picture doesn't do it justice. It was like that color on the Kleenex when you have a nose bleed.

The stone stuck out because for the last three weeks in the countryside of two countries we've not seen that color, or any)bright color really other than the earth tones of greens in the trees, pastures, and vineyards, grapes, browns of livestock, and the many shades of stone. Just not red. That's why the stone grabbed my attention as we passed in a blink of an eye.

On the next very long climbing and winding stretch, we passed two elderly women hiking on an especially steep section of road, each carrying and old backpack and the shepherd's staff that is so common in this area. I mean the roads were all really steep, and they were elderly women! They seemed almost as out of place as the red stone. We exchanged glances as I inched slowly passed them . . . and then I stopped. I put the car in reverse, and backed down the mountain and stopped next to them. In my just-about-adequate Spanish, I asked if they'd like a lift. They agreed instantly, even if we weren't familiar locals. That started a long and fairly confused exchange about where they were going, where we were going, and the red stone.

Apparently the women were coming back to a small home they pointed to much farther up on the hillside above where we dropped them off. They only come occasionally in the summers and fall, and apparently walk most of the way when they do. When I asked about the red stone, the elder of the two said, "La Guerra" (the war), and the younger quickly added, "accidente" (accident). Whichever woman spoke the truth, someone is still really angry about the war or in deep grief for a life lost.

After we dropped them off, I realized I'd missed a chance to touch something real, old, and true about this country. Something that's often hard for tourists like us, coming to "see" a place, don't often come by. In that moment I said to Gwen, I'd have traded the grand Picos vistas for tea with these women in their cabin way up on the hill. I would have liked to have learned about how they came to have a place there, and if the older woman had lived there, and if her husband had been a shepherd. I'd have liked to learn what their trek back up the mountain was all about, and especially, what was their experience of La Guerra or life under Franco. But we pressed on and I'm not sure they'd have invited us up anyway.

It seemed like we climbed forever through thick forest with more breathy turns. And then, out of nowhere, in the trees above us appeared a colossal pink church. It felt for a brief moment like a hallucination, but the Basilica de Santa Maria la Real de Covadonga was very real, very pink, very Catholic, and extremely historic.

The story of the place is that the Moors had conquered the rest of Spain and they were coming for this corner of the country. A fellow named Pelayo gathered a band of warriors to heroically resist Islamic onslaught. It was in this place that the Moors were first resisted and then defeated anywhere in the country. Because the Moorish commander was killed in the battle, his soldiers fled. This launched the Christian Reconquista (reconquest) of Spain that lasted for the next 770 years!

The Catholic story is that Pelayo had retreated to a cave where a hermit had secreted a statue of the Virgin Mary, to save her from the Muslims. Pelayo prayed to the virgin for victory, increase his courage and resolve, and the rest is history, literally. Our Lady of Covadonga is now the patron Saint of Asturias, and the basilica was built to house the current statue.

It's Catholic importance of the place is witnessed by the fact that Pope John Paul II visited the Basilica de Santa Maria la Real de Covadonga to pay his respects to the statue of the Virgin. Today there is a hotel, a cafeteria, tourist buses, and a string of stalls all selling Catholic stuff made in China. Beautiful and odd at the same time. All this at one sharp turn on the road up the mountain!

It was still another half-hour to the top. We eventually joined a long line of small cars making our way up and inching past a similar line of cars and one herd of cattle, coming down the road. At the top it opened to the promised grand vistas. Not much in my experience, except for Switzerland, compared with the views. Even on a slightly cloudy day with occasional fog passing over us, there were high peaks and green valleys in all directions.

In the Picos you're in a very large, high altitude pasture. So you hear the constant din of bells (now becoming comforting). On and off trail you have to be very careful where you step. If the bells are the music of this part of the world, manure is the background fragrance (also becoming . . . well, normal). Imagine you've climbed a high rise, you're breathing in the fresh and snappy mountain air, you're basking in the beauty of the place and your small victory. There are bells on the flocks ringing near and far and in front of you are some cattle, impervious to your presence, just relaxing on the grass. You find a rock, sit, and savor the whole experience. I mean who needs a Camino?

Here's that moment of Picos Zen for your pleasure.

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We did a big loop hike around two high-altitude lakes know as Lagos de Covadonga. We chose the lesser trail traveled around the larger lake, Lago La Ercina, and then bushwhacked through cow dung and pasture to the other lake, Lago Enol. It took about two hours of a few steep up and downs, and occasionally on actual stairs. It was a physical few hours, but I think I was more tired from driving the very narrow and curvy roads, and trying to understand a pink Basilica in the middle of nowhere than from the actual hiking.

We retraced our route back down the mountain with a slight re-routing to try to find wider roads. We did see a lot of sheep, goats, and cattle on the road. I'll stop taking those pictures soon. But it's just odd to see so much livestock at what feels like way up on the mountain. And, on such steep terrain it would be hard for me to walk up and down. This is so your grass-fed and well balanced animals.

We ended our very successful first day with a nice meal at La Habana. Tomorrow we're opting for a walk along the ocean. I won't say we're cured of mountain roads, but walking along the ocean a mile away on a flat trail is sounding pretty good about now.

A few additional pictures from the day are below.

Onward,

Earl and Gwen

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Anti-Trafficking Statement at El Habana