Day 71. Saturday 17 May.

A modest day to recover from the long time in the car yesterday. After chores, a short walk into El Carmen, our local village, to check out both the other access route – we’d been advised that the one we came in on may well be closed off – and to find out what was going on. There had been loud explosions last night from that direction that D had thought were shotgun reports, or possibly scare guns. This morning there were more, much louder, and a piece of debris (a meter long piece of narrow doweling) fell into our backyard! Monica informed us, after D asked if WW3 had started, that it was noise to attract people. As we walked, more fireworks, and we could see smoke trails before the explosions. Turned out it was the annual fair, the Féria de S. Isidro, a fairly contained event, and our access was indeed blocked off to contain some cows.  The good news was that the alternate access was fine, albeit a little bit harder to navigate. Several backyard horreos caught our interest. They are traditional backyard raised storage huts for animal feed/grain/ vegetables, keeping moisture and rodents at bay. And one structure, clearly based on a horreo, was clearly being built as a residence with steps and planter boxes – T thought of a ‘granny flat’, but perhaps (probably) it’s going to be an ‘authentic’ tourist accommodation

After coffee, a 4km drive into Ribadestella, a picturesque town on the mouth of the Rio Stella. Walked along the river side, with the cafes, restaurants and bars already humming and a few kayakers in the bay. A couple of SUP riders were later seen struggling to paddle their way back into the river: both eventually got safely onto the river sandbank. There were fishermen along the walkway, and across the river on the sand.

The walkway had a permanent display of tiled dioramas depicting the history of the town: they were sort of serious comic book, but a great history lesson. Pre-history, Romans, French…but interestingly, no Islamic period.

Decided to take the stairs to the Ermita de la Giua, a small capella on the headland overlooking the river mouth and out to the Cantabrian Sea, which gives way to the Bay of Biscay, which gives way to the endless North Atlantic Ocean, as far as we could determine from the untrustworthy Doris. The chapel is dedicated to the Virgin of Guía, patron saint of sailors. Tough gig. D obligingly took some photos of two couples, both of whom didn’t pay the two euros he demanded: perhaps they thought he was joking? One of the couple engaged us for a while. They are from Argentina, and the lady had good English, so translated back and forth to her man. Lovely exchange. The cliff faces demonstrated the geological impacts over millions of years, another reminder that nature will take its course.

And as we were leaving, we discovered a secret that is political dynamite: undeclared assets. The street sign is probably accurate.

Back to town, via Dia to pick up some essentials, then home, passing some horses being ridden back to their homes: traffic was suitably obliging. On the way, stopped in at the fair: D has become quite enculturated and now quite happy to put on the hazard lights to block the traffic (there wasn’t much, to be honest) while he bought a new corkscrew, which he’d spotted this morning but forgotten to take any cash. There are priorities, after all. And no one complained!

And as we headed toward our intersection, we came up behind some other horse riders going home from the fair. We were quite happy to dawdle along until our turnoff, although the young rider at the back of the group continued to wave us and other vehicles on.

As we briefly sat outside enjoying the afternoon sun, enjoying some tapas of tempura vegies, the pub up the road was rocking (or whatever the Spanish is for loud music). And the missiles fired once again. Time to get the chicken-feed fired up.

Dinner. Mussels – just the standard white wine, onion, garlic, tomatoes…..