DAY 35. 12 JUNE 2016. POO TO NUEVA

A wonderful coastal walk mainly on winding dirt tracks today.

or was it day 36? 

We (that's Christine and I) said Adios to 'Granny' at the hotel after breakfast and Rebecca met us at the start of the Camino; so we three are on our way again.

Tomato paste on toast is a favourite here

Rocks are very much a feature of the Asturias landscape. They poke up pale grey and lichen covered through the bracken and grass, litter the fields, form their boundaries and are the towering backdrop of the Picos mountains in the distance. The rocks love the light here. The coastline is also rocky and wild with the Atlantic swirling and breaking around the numerous stacks and islands just off the coast.

I've been pondering some lines from a David Waggoner poem entitled 'Lost' as I have walked over the past few days.

 "Wherever you are is called Here,


And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,


Must ask permission to know it and be known."

The Picos to my left and the sea to my right

The Camino is a powerful stranger indeed; it requires a certain respect. One submits to it or perhaps surrender is a better word. It could stop my progress at any point and I feel that I'm being slowly worn away- but in a good sense. Every day my expectations of normality and what my body can deal with (or not) are being expanded. When I chose to walk the Camino del Norte I had no idea what and who I would encounter. The unfolding beauty of the place is totally unexpected, as is the care and hospitality I have been offered. The opportunity to walk slowly and at my own pace is also a gift.

In the albergues I sometimes meet younger people who feel the need to pit themselves against the Camino. Some walk 50km with a pack day after day; which is no mean feat on these gradients. They wear their blisters with pride and enjoy talking about them and showing them off!

At first I was rather annoyed by this approach and suggested they walk fewer km or even have a rest day. Their reaction is always dismissal and disbelief!

But now I think that Franciscan writer Richard Rohr maybe right (again); that modern Western youngsters lack initiation rites. He writes that traditionally these rites involved some sort of trial and ritualistic suffering to wound or decentralise the ego. I now try to suspend judgement when presented with tales of 'extreme' walking. Of course the vice versa also applies; they see my wandering progress as 'slacking'.

Rebecca and I were walking together most of the day and Christine had walked ahead. We were provisionally heading for a nice albergue at Cuerres, but as we arrived at Nueva, a small railway town, I got a text from Christine saying she has stopped here for the night. So we booked into the same family-run boarding house, in a flat above the San Jorge bar. This was a good choice as it turned out to be a gastro-pub.

The braised caramelised onion stuffed with pulled pork was delicious, as was the baked cheese and cod croquettes.

Cod and cheese croquettes

The bad news was that it was match-night and the party went on till 2am, as poor Christine discovered! Bien Camino!

DAY 35. 11 JUNE 2016. POO REST DAY.

Today felt like a week! It is really stunning here. A small stream winds through a sandy-floored canyon out into a crescent shaped bay on a long inlet. The ocean is invisible until you wade out round the corner and suddenly the deep cobalt blue horizon opens up, framed by craggy rocks. The sound of waves gently lapping the shore is mixed with birdsong and cow bells from the cliffs, with a couple of pine trees for shade. Perfecto!

After the albergue breakfast we transfer our packs to the Hotel La Ferola del Mar. The unsmiling receptionist/barmaid who we nickname 'Granny' looks rather dubious at having a couple of those pesky, feral pilgrims check in!

Rebecca decides to stay in the albergue for an extra night, but joins Christine and me on the beach. I wade around in the sea, go exploring up the creek and then finally decide to go for a swim. Lovely. The is sea shallow for a long way out and is warmish once you pass the midriff moment.

It's very nice to be amongst the normality of family life on the beach. Children paddle, make sand castles, mums sunbathe, boys play football and a few pilgrims tramp past on the cliff path in their parallel universe...

There is a very nice restuarant in the other hotel and we have a posh lunch on the terrace; baked vegetables and a big plate of Pimentos Padron. More sunbathing in the afternoon, but by 8pm I'm ravenous again and tuck into a plate of pig's trotters and chips!!! The most fattening thing I spotted on the menu- I seem to burn off however many calories I eat!

Then a good sleep; I realise how much I miss the luxury of real cotton towels and ironed sheets!

Morning on the beach

Evening falls

DAY 33. 10 JUNE 2016. PENDUELES TO POO.

Some peaceful music to rouse us for breakfast at 7pm which slowly got more exuberant to encourage us out onto the road at 8am. Christine, Rebecca and I are the last people out of the door and we decide to walk together today. It will be another fairly short (8 mile) day as we are heading to Poo which has (an unfortunate name) but a nice beach, a private albergue AND wonderful scenery.

 We set out with a cool breeze, blue sky and MOUNTAINS. These are the Picos de Europa mountains; tall, jagged and snow capped in the distance. We will be walking amongst and alongside them and the Atlantic Ocean for the next few days.

 We set out walking through a green landscape on dirt tracks with a few flowering cider-apple orchards and a dramatic mountain backdrop. Then follow a ferny stream down to a small sandy cove and onto a wonderful coast path, past the Bufones de Arenillas ; a geological feature: cliff edge caverns that shoot sea water 20-30m into the air. Sadly the tide and wind conditions weren't right and they weren't performing today. 

We stopped at 11am for coffee at Andrin, a small village and then turned inland and started to climb up tracks into a stony mountain landscape with stands of eucalyptus. There are small red roofed villages in the valleys and distant sea views.

About midday the mist descended and the mountain tops are lost in the clouds and about an hour later we started to descend, passing a small chapel with grilles in the walls so you could peep inside. Red votive candles flickered in the darkness.

It is always a surprise to enter a town so suddenly; within minutes we had passed from grey, rocky mountain paths to suburbia, and then quickly into the town centre of Llanes. A nice town which has Turkish looking villas with tall glazed balconies.

In the main square an elderly gent introduces himself as a former pilgrim and recommends a local restaurant. We find it just round the corner and order the Menu del Dia: another delicious meal. Bean stew, grilled fish, mixed salad, a bottle wine and flam. Then a group of men and women arrive with guitars. They tell us that they are Basque and start to serenade us and the entire cafe in rich harmonies; including a Spanish version of 'My Way' so we can join in the chorus. Magic!

We set out for Poo after lunch and book ourselves into a private Albergue. There is a palpable difference to our previous evening. Without a resident Hospitalero/a with heart, the albergue is no more than a student doss-house. Hospitality IS the albergue; there's nothing wrong with it in material terms; it's clean and sort of OK, but it lacks soul.

So we take ourselves to the beach and stroll along the cliff walk in the evening- wow! A small sandy cove is connected to the sea by a long azure blue channel with a stream running through a canyon with the mountains forming a blue-green backdrop. We are the only people here.

There are two small hotels at the back of the beach and we perch in the bar for a beer and to discuss plans for tomorrow. Christine and I both feel we can't just rush past this place, so decide to book into a hotel and spend the day resting on the beach! Rebecca is going to think about it.

Then we head to our bunks!

DAY 34. 10 JUNE 2016. PENDUELES TO POO.

Some peaceful music to rouse us for breakfast at 7pm which slowly got more exuberant to encourage us out onto the road at 8am. Christine, Rebecca and I are the last people out of the door and we decide to walk together today. It will be another fairly short (8 mile) day as we are heading to Poo which has (an unfortunate name) but a nice beach, a private albergue AND wonderful scenery.

We set out with a cool breeze, blue sky and MOUNTAINS. These are the Picos de Europa mountains; tall, jagged and snow capped in the distance. We will be walking amongst and alongside them and the Atlantic Ocean for the next few days.

We set out walking through a green landscape on dirt tracks with a few flowering cider-apple orchards and a dramatic mountain backdrop. Then follow a ferny stream down to a small sandy cove and onto a wonderful coast path, past the Bufones de Arenillas ; a geological feature: cliff edge caverns that shoot sea water 20-30m into the air. Sadly the tide and wind conditions weren't right and they weren't performing today. 

We stopped at 11am for coffee at Andrin, a small village and then turned inland and started to climb up tracks into a stony mountain landscape with stands of eucalyptus. There are small red roofed villages in the valleys and distant sea views.

About midday the mist descended and the mountain tops are lost in the clouds and about an hour later we started to descend, passing a small chapel with grilles in the walls so you could peep inside. Red votive candles flickered in the darkness.

It is always a surprise to enter a town so suddenly; within minutes we had passed from grey, rocky mountain paths to suburbia, and then quickly into the town centre of Llanes. A nice town which has Turkish looking villas with tall glazed balconies.

In the main square an elderly gent introduces himself as a former pilgrim and recommends a local restaurant. We find it just round the corner and order the Menu del Dia: another delicious meal. Bean stew, grilled fish, mixed salad, a bottle wine and flam. Then a group of men and women arrive with guitars. They tell us that they are Basque and start to serenade us and the entire cafe in rich harmonies; including a Spanish version of 'My Way' so we can join in the chorus. Magic!

We set out for Poo after lunch and book ourselves into a private Albergue. There is a palpable difference to our previous evening. Without a resident Hospitalero/a with heart, the albergue is no more than a student doss-house. Hospitality IS the albergue; there's nothing wrong with it in material terms; it's clean and sort of OK, but it lacks soul.

So we take ourselves to the beach and stroll along the cliff walk in the evening- wow! A small sandy cove is connected to the sea by a long azure blue channel with a stream running through a canyon with the mountains forming a blue-green backdrop. We are the only people here.

There are two small hotels at the back of the beach and we perch in the bar for a beer and to discuss plans for tomorrow. Christine and I both feel we can't just rush past this place, so decide to book into a hotel and spend the day resting on the beach! Rebecca is going to think about it.

Then we head to our bunks!

DAY 32. 9 JUNE 2016. LA FRANCA TO PENDUELES

A very comfortable and silent night. Breakfast, lovely clean clothes in the pack and we're off on a wonderful walk along the coast. It's warm and misty and the steel grey sea disappears into the horizon. The rocks here love the light and lie on the surface, nestled amongst thyme, pale pink thrift and white Sea-Campion.

 We meet a group of Irish people on the coast path; members of a running club who are walking the Camino for a week. Their fluorescent tops and hats bob amongst the bracken and gorse ahead of us- we enjoy their craic and one chap regales me with stories about pubs in Crystal Palace in the early 1960s.

I'm taking lots of photos and fall behind at find myself having to cross a narrow 'Tolkien-esque' bridge of craggy rock about 15 foot wide. To my right is a vertical cliff and to my left a deep cauldron with the waves swirling far below. On rough days it must be pretty dramatic. It's the first time I've been afraid on the Camino and thank goodness for my poles. I test every step and feel very unsteady. It takes a long time to cross, but luckily the waves are having the day off.  Then through a field with cows, calves and a great brown bull. I hurry towards the only gate I can see and am very relieved when I see a yellow arrow painted on a railway bridge pointing on towards the village of Pendueles.

Christine and I meet up at the edge of the village and discuss over a coffee and orange juice that we've had enough excitement today and her calves are painful; we decide to stop and have a short day. The alberge here has a good reviews and opens at 2.30pm, so it's time for more coffee and tortilla and a spot of blogging.

The albergue is cosy and welcoming and the volunteer hospitaleros are brothers from Sicily. It has friendly, well cared for atmosphere with a three course communal supper, eaten at a long table. Lots of chat.

The nearby bed is bagged by an interesting American woman called Rebecca, who is a farrier. Over supper she tells her story; she has come to Spain to find her recently-discovered blood-father's family who was an American-Basque cowboy. An amazing story.  She has the face of a Basque saint from a reredos. Although he died some years ago, it turned out that her father was also a farrier!

DAY 31. 8 JUNE 2016. SAN VINCENTE TO LA FRANCA

WOW. What lovely day. It started out misty. Everything is damp including the washing from yesterday afternoon and the distance veiled. From San Vincente it's a steep climb inland to a ridge; the landscape has become more rugged and the fields are strewn with rocky outcrops. Cow bells and cattle lowing are the only sounds and the gorse bushes are covered with dew-drenched cobweb hammocks. Here, the cattle look like prehistoric wall-paintings with long curly, black tipped horns.

I cross a busy motorway far below and it silently and mysteriously disappears into the mist and further on, an elegant road bridge soars over a deep river valley while eagles soar over head in the distance.

A group of us seem to converge at coffee time in the small village of Sergio. Several French, a Slovenian man, Christine pitches up. I down an agua con gaz, a caffe con leche and a whole packet of Haribos.  Nothing much here, except a bar and a long line of dairy cows being driven along the road.

Slowly I'm leaving the district of Cantabria and entering the wilder, mountainous district of Esturia. It already feels different. I think the boundary is the Rio Deva which I cross at 12.30pm.

There are some pretty steep hills today between valleys. Although it's misty I can see snow-capped mountains in the distance and the foothills are covered with forest. The mist gradually clears late morning and in Unquera I buy my picnic and eat it high on a hill on what seems a very ancient piece of paved Camino track with a shrine.

The village of Colombres is interesting because it has several large mansions built by merchants who had made their fortunes in the New World in a style called Indianos. Quite exotic!

More hills, a long tedious stretch of main road, and eventually The road reaches the village of La Franca. The Alberque Renacer  (trl. Reborn) was recommended by Justine, an American I met on Day 2! She stayed here and loved it. It is owned by Maria, who ran an Albergue on the Camino Frances for seven years. She greets her visitors warmly and sits us down on a comfy sofa on the verandah and goes to make fresh lemonade. In a while, the Slovenian guy, Darian, arrives with bad blisters. Maria sets to work with natural Aloe-Vera and then tells him to sit with his feet in the sun. After a while, Christine turns up. So that's our Camino family for tonight. The rooms are very comfortable and she is cooking us supper.  Lovely lentil stew, salad, chicken and a slightly strange cheese jelly served with jam.

Maria has washed my clothes- they look and smell clean at last. Detergent never smelt so nice.  What a treat!

I was thinking today that the Camino is a communal enterprise as well as an individual endeavour. The Hospitaleros, fellow pilgrims, bar-men, chefs, dog walkers and workmen in vans, who honk and point out the right direction, are all part of it. Cyclists call out "Bien Camino" and little old ladies stop to ask where you've walked from. Of course many make their living from it, but it feels like there is a great crowd of enthusiastic supporters urging all of on!

DAY 30. 7 JUNE 2016. COMILLAS TO SAN VINCENTE

A good night's rest. Ron is the perfect gent and knocks on the door and doesn't snore. It's nice to be in a domestic setting after the rather brutal utilitarian surroundings of the albergues. There is a certain comfort in the domesticity of things: porcelain knick-knacks, flowery sheets and tasselled-satin curtains. 

Ron walks 30km/day so we say 'Buen Camino' and I spend the next hour collecting Annie's scarf from the Pension and trying to top-up my mobile phone at various cash machines; a frustrating business. It eventually works on my third attempt. 

Pop into the supermarket to buy my picnic lunch and there's Christine! So we set off together and re-meet again for breakfast in a village square a few km away. Most people walk separately and alone; even couples tend to have different walking rhythms. You meet up with other Pilgrims as you come across them! Exchange a few words perhaps, but the typical Camino day is quite quiet and introspective. Evenings are social and when you part the next morning you've often shared a special evening together. 

Today is a wonderful watery day. Hot with a blue sky; the Camino passes through a nature reserve at Oyambre. At 10ish I reach a glassy green river that turns into a vast estuary that cuts through white sand dunes to get to the sea. The water is controlled with sluices and there's an eery lake with a drowned Eucalyptus wood.  

The official route then turns inland, but a new diversion hugs the coast; the road undulates until it dawns that I can walk on the beach instead and it's flat! It's a vast stretch of golden sand with a blue sea out in the distance. Wonderful. I decide not to paddle though - it's tricky getting sand off your feet. 

A cold lemon drink by the beach at Braña; I obviously look hot and tired as the barman kindly supplies a bowl of olives and pickled onions to revive me. 

About 1.30pm I cross the stone bridge across the Rio that leads into San Vincente de la Barquera. It's quite a big town and popular with tourists in the summer. The Municipal Albergue is on top of a hill by the castle and the church of Santa Maria de Los Angeles. It doesn't open until 4pm, but the Hospitalera allows early-birds to store their packs inside. As I set off Christine arrives and the little albergue dog joins us- so we have a late lunch in a shady, grassy area overlooking the estuary. 

The albergue is pretty basic but clean, with 25 bunk beds in the dorm. Lots of French people. The Hospitalera is a jolly Spanish lady with bright red dyed hair and her husband tries to keep things ship shape! 

In the evening we meet up with Annie in a very nice local bar. The Menu del Dia is €9 for perigrenos - we must look the part because she didn't ask for our Credencials. The lean hungry look! Bean stew, followed by Bacalau (dried cod) in red pimento sauce and Flam to finish, with a nice bottle of white wine included. Hard life being a pilgrim!

Annie is travelling east by bus tomorrow and has bought a very nice sequinned top to swap for her pilgrim tee-shirt!

DAY 29. 6 JUNE 2016. COMILLAS REST DAY.

I woke up feeling stiff and my feet rubbed so decide to stay another day and catch up on the blog; it's helpful to stop and process the journey every few days otherwise it all melds into one. Annie has decided not to walk further because of her blisters and is taking the bus to San Vincente later today. I'm sorry it hasn't worked out for her; the walk out of Santander was unrelenting; ugly urban fringe and tarmac. Which is fine as part of a larger whole, but a shock to the system on Day 1 perhaps. 

I'm finding the Camino to be a constant series of challenging encounters and uplifting glories. I rise up every morning and it's waiting for me and every evening brings its own challenges too. A constant abrasion of routine, niceties, expectations and assumptions. You can tell long-term pilgrims; we have a slightly feral quality!

I spend most of the day sitting in cafes writing and when Christine wanders by- it has to be lunchtime. I had noticed a nice looking restuarant the night before, just up the road. A family run place; the daughter owns it now and her father, the chef, pops out from time to time to see that we're enjoying his food. And we are!

A big mixed salad followed by grilled sardines. The water comes in a metal bottle with the words "el agua què nunca ha visto la luz" (the water that has never seen the sunlight). Christine's tuna is so big, we're going back tonight to finish it for supper!

At 3pm I leave to book into the albergue. It's very nice (5€) but with only 20 spaces- I should have queued an hour earlier! The Hospitalera is kind, stamps my Cedencial and sends a few of us pilgrims to a private house with rooms nearby (€15). Tonight my room-mate is Ron, a lecturer in chemical engineering from New Jersey... hey it's the Camino.

We meet up at the restaurant at 8pm for a nice evening of good food, wine and conversation. Bien Camino!

DAY 28. 5 JUNE 2016. SANTILLIANA DEL MAR TO COMILLAS.

El Campeón del Ronquido ("The Champion Snorer") was eventually extinguished by a Frenchman who couldn't bear any more about 2am and crept out of the dorm at 4am. I hope he found a nice sofa somewhere to continue his ear-splitting rumblings. After that- quiet. Up and out on the road early and breakfast up at the campsite out of town. 

Annie has decided to continue her journeys by bus and we have arranged to meet at Comillas tonight. 

A wonderful day of constant undulating hills, opening up sudden and unexpected views down wide valleys and in between hills to the sea. There are several scenic detours, including lunch on the beach at Luana Playa with a refreshing paddle and a steep track down to a lovely spring. The route travels mainly on tarmac with some pleasant dirt tracks connecting the roads. There are also some pretty steep ascents and I resort to the 'Zigzag Sherpa Mini-Steps' approach several times. 

The crickets and lizards have now joined the Camino and the birdsong is a constant delight, especially in the woods. I see white egrets and large birds of prey too. 

Mid morning I come across a sweet family of animals in a field; a young donkey, a few nanny goats with young kids, a big old dog and some geese. They all hang around together and when the donkey lies down the kids jump in his back and stomp around until he's had enough. 

I've given up trying to gauge the journey or the distances; the del Norte app says one thing and the Camino another. The guide book gives instructions like "join the CA-131" but forgets to tell you that today you can walk on the beach! In fact I think the Camino is a simultaneous diversity of routes and no-one travels the same one. When I meet Christine later she tells me she didn't walk on a beach at all!

At about 3.30pm I meet Christine in a small village bar. I've stopped for a beer but her calves are feeling worse for wear and we stop to rest and do some stretches. As I come into Comillas I get a text from Annie to says she's booked into a nice Pension near the beach. I reach her about 5pm and have a hot shower; it's been a very long day. Pacer says I've walked 18 miles; I don't think it's been that much, but certainly feels like it. The journey took Annie 20 minutes by bus. 

Comillas is a nice sea-side town and Annie and I go for a wander around and discover some real goodies- like a Gaudi palace called The Capricho! It has all his usual hallmarks of bizarre towers and chimneys, mosaics, twisting ironwork and is decorated with hundreds of sunflower tiles. The town also boasts a Gaudi gateway and lots of large villas for the rich and famous who once holidayed here. 

After that we celebrate with a Menu del Dia in the main square and have an early night. I'm undecided about tomorrow... it depends on my legs. 

DAY 27. 4 JUNE 2016. SANTILLIANA DEL MAR REST DAY.

A nice quiet night but Annie's blisters are still bad so we decide on a rest day and so I move my pack to the albergue downstairs in the garden. Neat and clean with a huge bathroom. Since I'm the first one, I bag the little single bed in the alcove under the window. Very nice with sheets and duvet for €10. 

We all meet to find breakfast. After lots of wandering we discover the Hotel Los Infantes, where we are warmly welcomed and ushered downstairs to a HUGE breakfast buffet. Our faces must have been a picture - like children seeing a pile of Christmas presents! We tucked in; the nice waiter had a life-calling for frying bacon. So much love and delight!

We had a tourist-day. I ensconced in an elegant cafe to write my blog and then bumped into Christine outside the cathedral, where a splendid wedding was taking place. We enjoyed watching the ladies in their finery and high heels walking on the cobbles and a carriage drawn by a white horse waiting in the street. 

For lunch I met up with Christine to test out the local cider which is delicious, but tart and acidic compared to the sweet fizzy drink I'm used to. It's poured from a height or, if you're in a tourist cafe, a funny machine with bellows and a spout. Great fun.

In the afternoon I revisited the cloisters, which were full of French tourists with shouting guides which sadly spoilt the calm; only the blackbird singing his heart out saved the day. I ask the ticket man about the carving on the font; it's Daniel in the Lion's Den. The large Romanesque carving on the wall is Christ Pantocrator. 

At 8pm we all went to Mass in the cathedral. It was almost dark inside when we entered in silence; just a little evening sun glimmered through the coloured marble windows. I felt held by the ancient grey stonework all around and the great weight of 1,000 years of prayer. 

After a while the servers lit two candles on the altar and the golden reredos suddenly and mysteriously glowed into life. 

Mass has a spacious feel; there are no hymn books or bits of paper. Everyone knows the liturgy by heart and it is quietly undramatic. The priest is an elderly refined man who delivers a long impassioned homily; I enjoy the words washing over me. 

When I go up to the front, I stand next to the tomb of Santa Juliana for a while. It's a special moment. Her stone effigy is lovely; a smiling angel spreads its wings over her head, she has long flowing hair and her right hand is raised in blessing over her heart. Her left hand holds a rope and she has dainty slippers on her feet; under them, like a pet dog, the demon looks up with the rope around its neck. This is no macho St George dragon-slaying subjugation of a demon but a rather a domestication. Me and the/my demon go for a walk sort of affair. Won at a great price no doubt. 

After, we go for a wonder around Jesus Otero's sculpture garden and then find a rather good 'Menu del Dia'. The local pudding is a spiced bread pudding. 

Then I'm back to my little bed in the albergue amongst the snoring pilgrims and Christine - who I'm sure doesn't snore! 

DAY 26. 3 JUNE 2016. BÓO DE PIELAGOS TO SANTILLIANA DEL MAR

A quick breakfast and we're out at 8.20am to catch out train over the bridge- walking the tracks seems too dangerous! It takes 2 minutes exactly and saves us 4 hours walking back to where we were yesterday. It seems strange to be moving so quickly and effortlessly. Speed is the great temptation for Modern beings. 

We get out at Mogro station and start walking up under the lipid blue skies after morning mist, with glimpses of the distant sea. Then down into a wide river estuary with mudflats dotted with white ibis. I follow a pipe-line (I didn't find out what) on a gravel track for several miles, which is a pleasant change to tarmac, which gets tiring on the legs. And a wonderful enormously ugly cement works at Rinconeda. 

It's a long steady 120m ascent to Santilliana del Mar and I somehow miss a shortcut onto a quieter country road, so I end up marching up a busy road, but find a spring of drinking water half way up; it tastes very good after the chlorinated hotel water in my bottle.

At the top I think I see a shortcut on the map - which of course wasn't because the lane was about 30 foot below the main road and I ended up climbing over a road barrier to get onto it. But eventually I arrive...

Santilliana de Mar is very old and very beautiful. Cobbled streets, honey coloured stone buildings, deep, dark wooden balconies and carved coats of arms on many of the grand buildings. The church at the top of the town is Romanesque and I can't wait to see inside. It's stuffed full of tourist shops full of leather bags, delis, cheese shops and the usual tat....and lots of hotels and restaurants. I start hearing English voices. 

Annie was a fast-mover today and has arrived one and a half hours ahead of me. She's checked into a single room in a hotel/ private albergue since the Municipal one is closed for renovations. At €25 a single room with ensuite sounds good to me and I do the same when I arrive at 2pm. 

The hotel is a Gothic delight, if that's the right word. It is run by a scarily spooky couple of rotund, bearded brothers, one of whom reminds me of 'Blue-Beard' with a manic laugh. He offers his guests chocolates every time they pass through reception. The place is full of black panelling, old wooden chests, antique wardrobes, crumbling crucifixes, statues of saints and the odd instrument of torture. 

I'm shown into a nice double room with bathroom overlooking the garden- it's very quaint with an iron bedstead and an 'Eau de Nile' bedspread. The real pilgrims are in dorms at the back, I can see them sitting in the sun and hanging up washing in the garden. I enjoy getting undressed and showering in private but still I feel in the wrong place!

Then Annie and I set off for a wander around town- it's an picturesque warren of narrow streets and sunny squares. I fancy a late lunch and find a Menu del Dia: grilled prawns, fried fish with potatoes, a slice of the local curd tart and a glass of sangria. Delicious! 

I see a sign for a visit to the cloisters for 3€ and in we go. WHAM BANG. A totally unexpected full-on Romanesque cloister with the most amazing carved capitals. One of the best I've seen! Intertwined Celtic knotwork, saints, soldiers, winged horses all dance round the shady walkway overlooking a simple grass space. 

Then into the church which is dedicated to Santa Juliana and the place does have a sort of Feminine feel. A lovely reredos of St Anne with the infant Mary (Mother and Daughter).  Again, wonderful carved capitals but the building is simple and unadorned with narrow marble-glazed windows. A deep hushed peace. Santa Julia's tomb is in the chancel with a sweet prone statue of her at rest- she wrestled with demons apparently. 

The Baptistry would be easy to miss as it's under the tower and almost dark. It contains a huge stone font for full full immersion, overlooked by a tall wall painting of Christ rising in victory, flanked on each side with Easter candles. I think I now understand the Alchemical illustration of the King in his bath that I set off, all those weeks ago. 

Next to the cathedral is the lovely house/studio and garden of sculptor Jesus Otero. The Pilgrim's albergue is also part of his foundation. Some of his monumental honey-coloured stone carvings and bas-relief adorn this quiet oasis off the tourist trail. They are mainly of stylised buffalo, horses and goats; informed perhaps by the prehistoric Altamira cave-paintings, which are within walking distance of his house. 

We meet up with Christine in the evening for a bottle of white wine in the main square. We have a nice chat with a middle aged well-to-do English chap who is motor biking around the mountain villages with a group of friends; they all emerge from the bar later. One is wearing a 'David Beckham' style sarong, which could cause some interest around here!

Then back to the hotel for a well earned sleep. Annie has several large blisters and we decide to review our travel plans for tomorrow when it comes. 

DAY 25. 2 JUNE 2016. SANTANDER TO BÓO PIELAGOS.

Up early and out of the door at 7.20am for a long slow slog out of Santander. Urban sprawl goes on for miles, at first under leafy boulevards and then tyre repair workshops, sanitary ware warehouses and double glazing outlets. We have breakfast one in a bar and breakfast 2 when we leave Santander behind us. The route is mainly on tarmac but we are also walk alongside a railway track and through a random field, beside a motorway and then drop down to a wide river, the 'Ria de Morgo'. 

We have coffee and tortilla at a deserted hotel/bar at Boo Pielagos and later walk past an albergue and railway station. Little did we know we would return. 

At some point I missed the short alternative route which requires walking on a railway track (or taking the train one stop over the railway bridge), so by the time Annie said her feet could not manage an additional 17km we were half way round the river loop and sitting in a bar for a late lunch. I looked on my online map and there was an Albergue shown nearby; so off we set but it wasn't to be found. I knocked on a locals' door and he kindly drew a map - which took us all the way back to the albergue we had passed this morning. A long uphill drag but we eventually got there about 3pm. 

It's a nice new Albergue, it is run by a young woman and has several clean airy dorms, a sun terrace on the roof and beer and crisps for 1€. So not all bad! Then a few minutes later in walked Christine, the American from San Miguel - great to see her. It all sort of feels meant to be- despite our detour. 

Annie and I tackle our washing and sit in the sun; the €10 supper is delicious  - a huge mixed salad, egg, bacon and chips, ice cream and bottles of wine. We have a fun evening on a table of French people and a lone Brit, who has lived in France for 13 years and speaks French with the most English accent imaginable! The wine flows- it's time for bed.

DAY 24. 1 JUNE 2016. SANTANDER

Quite a good sleep despite the creaking and out of the doors at 7.30am. Everyone's keen to get going as it's a long way to the next albergue for some. I have breakfast with a couple of other pilgrims in the local cafe and then hang around waiting for my phone to charge. Annie, a friend from the UK, is travelling to meet me from Bilbao by bus today so I hunt out the other hostel in the mean time. I get there, ring the bell... nothing. A very nice lady comes out of the dress shop opposite to tell me it's permanently closed and gives me the address of the Isabel Hospedaje. I've heard of it from other pilgrims, so I head off to find it and end up asking a man loading stuff in the back of a lorry. He smiles and answers in English, he is Venezuelan and works for a Christian project helping homeless people. He takes me to his friend Peter,  who works in the Centre and we discover that the Isabel is practically next door and opens at 3pm. I ring and reserve two beds... somehow!

Then it's off to the bus station and I ensconce myself in a cafe for my second breakfast, write my blog and wait for Annie. She arrives about 11.30am and then it's time to explore Santander. I try multiple shops to buy Sabon pasta (a bar of soap), we discover the vegetable and fish markets and buy lunch/ breakfast. We then go to the Museo Prehistorica and discover it's somewhere else and we have to go back at 5pm. One of those sort of days! 

Our picnic is eaten on a bench on the waterfront where the ferry embarks. A German man sitting next to us on the bench, tells us that he and his friend are the 'back-up' team in the car for their wives who are walking the Camino. Annie and I both think 'wimps'!

At 3pm we book into the Isabel. It's basic but very nice; a small room with a pair of bunks, a tiny balcony and a bathroom down the hall for €15 each. I pay €3 extra to have my washing done which I hope will be dry in time. 

Then we're off to the Cathedral to have our Credencials stamped; the selo depicts the decapitated heads of the two local saints. And then finally to the Museo Prehistoria. 

The museum is a must if you find yourself in Santander. There are lots of Neolithic remains and cave paintings in the region. The museum is laid out as a sort of history of tool making - starting with chipped riverbed cobbles to exquisite, minute pieces of flint which must have been the equivalent to scalpels? Some beautiful polished axe heads and bone needles that look like modern needles. I'm in awe of the human ability to 'make'; the tools to make the tools. Most of us could not make a single item that facilitate our everyday lives. 

There was a spookily amazing series of three pre-Homo sapiens sculls in cases. A video projection gradually fleshed out the bones, so that the faces looked back at you. It was the glint in the eyes that somehow made them 'alive' for a few seconds before they dissolved back into archeology. 

We find an Italian Restuarant and I go for a cheese and pasta salad- pretty horrid. I just think calories! Would have been better with pizza- they looked nice. 

Back to the Isabel for a good nights sleep. 

DAY 23. 31 MAY 2016. GUËMES TO SANTANDER.

The lovely Dutch and American girls and I share a cabin last night. Just three of us in a little bird-box of a home, with a stable-door and a porch to dry our boots in. 

We had wondered about staying another night, but this morning we decide independently to walk on by ourselves. 

Breakfast is a generous meal again, with hot milky coffee, chocolate and bread and jam. 

Ernesto and John say goodbye to everyone as they leave, and I ask him for a blessing. To which he replies in Spanish "The Camino is the blessing" but says he will bless me if I wish; but I don't see him again. Before setting off, I spend time in the chapel- it has a deep palpable peace and a begonia plant in a large terracotta bowl in the centre of the space. 

So I set off alone, down the road to investigate another church which is closed of course. Ernesto in his pre-supper homily had spoken about 'quick-money' spoiling the area, especially the eucalyptus plantations and empty holiday flats in coastal resorts. I have seen both; in fact the beautiful oak woods of the Paes Basco have been totally replaced by mini-culture eucalyptus in Cantabria and I see more felling this morning. It's a very water-hungry fast growing species used mainly for paper production. 

Ernesto had recommended walking the coastal path but I miss the turning and walk on rather bleak Tarmac roads for a while but eventually find my way onto the cliff-path. Stunning views. It's a grey warm-windy day and the sea is rough and steel-grey. The wild flowers and grasses are lovely. There are several beaches with surfers and a spectacular reef of flat rocks that runs parallel to the coast and the surf crashes over it. At one point I pass a rocky island which has a huge gull colony and I can hear the racket from the path. 

At one point Ruth the Dutch woman passes me, but apart from that there are few walkers. I sit to rest near the town of Somo when a Spaniard stops to chat; he says he's never heard of the Camino and is amazed I'm walking to Santiago alone!

The path peters out and I then walk on sand-dunes, beaches and scramble over rocks to get to some steps up to the road. I meet a couple of older French pilgrims and we walk together through suburbia, to the ferry. The skies have cleared now and the huge beach looks very welcoming and is empty at this time of year. 

I stop for a snack and catch the next ferry to Santander - the city looks forbidding from the boat. A long wall of modern blocks stretches along the coast, but it's a lovely windy crossing. 

On landing, I walk straight to the Pilgrims Albergue as it has limited space. The French couple are in the queue ahead of me, but no Dutch and American women. It's very cramped but clean. The showers are so small that only three women can get into the room at the same time and there are strange plastic folding doors in the loos. 

After checking in I go to look at the cathedral, cloister and crypt which 'wonder of wonders' is open. It seems to be the only older building in the city, which has had a couple of disasters including an exploding dynamite ship and a huge fire, which has destroyed its heritage. Santander is a rather grim city. 

Then I go for a hair cut which is an interesting experience with no Spanish except iTranslator. It is undertaken with an electric razor and comb. The effect is vaguely similar but not the same; it's my pilgrim cut and has a vaguely penitential look! Anyway the hairdresser is delighted to have a pilgrim client with weird asymmetrical hair; he takes photos for his website and then kindly makes me a tomato with seaweed-flake sandwich that is flavoured with seawater from Ibiza! Very nice. 

I eat supper with South African Jonathan in the local cafe: a prawn salad followed by a burger with egg and cheese. That should replace some calories. 

Bed early. The bunks in my area all squeak and wheeze every time someone moves... Ear plugs to the rescue again. Doors locked and lights out at 10pm. 

DAY 22. 29 MAY 2016. SAN MIGUEL DE MERUELO TO GUËMES.

Breakfast is a somewhat ad hoc affair. A paper-cup of hot chocolate from the vending machine with bread and cheese that's been knocking around in my rucksack. 

It's time to move on, but it's raining: so an outing for the Red Hunchback. It's good to be back on the road and I rather enjoy walking in the soft rain, it reminds me of Cornwall. I'm only going 7km so I take a detour to see a Romanesque church, which is lovely but locked of course. 

On the way I stop and watch a lumberjack fell Eucalyptus trees on the other side of the valley. They come down with a whoosh and almighty crash and are turned into logs for paper-manufacture in a few minutes. 

I arrive at Guëmes at 10.30am. Albergue 'La Cabaña del Abuelo Pueto' is famous on the Camino del Norte and indeed it's very special. The hospitalero, Ernesto Bustio, is a white haired gentleman with a guru-like quality. We find out later that he is nearly eighty and is a priest. He takes his work very seriously and the place is soulful and deeply peaceful. I am welcomed at the  door by John (a South African chef who worked in Richmond for two years and who set out for Spain one morning, followed the yellow arrows and found himself here). 

The Dutch and American women from the previous night have already arrived - as has Maria, the NZ woman I met in the Akelbara Hostel in Bilbao. I thought she might give up her Camino, but she is working here and the albergue has become her home for two weeks.  The German girl with the injured foot is also here; she is being taken to a specialist in Santander for assessment. I suspect Ernesto is an anchor for many pilgrims who drift through. 

The Albergue is set out as a street of small cabins, each with bunks and its own loo. The food is amazing (served with red wine) and I've eaten my first 'hearty' meal for days! I realise I'm famished. 

There's a library, a catalogue of the Ernesto's travels in South America, interesting collections of minerals in bottles and farming implements, meeting rooms and a meditation space. I discover that the American woman lost her husband (a sculptor) six months ago. 

People tend to their washing, sit in the hot sun, which has now returned, read or stroll about in the garden listening to the wind and cuckoos. I have seen three eagles. 

In the afternoon I have a shower and siesta. At 7.30pm a bell rings and we are summoned to the Pilgrims' Room to hear Ernesto speak about the Camino and the history of the albergue; the farm house was built by his grandfather and he started the albergue 18 years ago. It catered then for 200 pilgrims/ year and this year will care for 70,000. An amazing story. 

About 60 people sit down to eat supper. Soup and bread, salad, pasta, yoghurt and plenty of red wine. There are many Germans and French people but also Hungarians, Dutch, Finnish, South African pilgrims and me-the Brit!

Bed at 10.15pm. A great day. 

DAY 21. 28 MAY 2016. NOJA TO SAN MIGUEL DE MERUELO

A good long sleep and I feel better for it. I'm going to have another gentle day today. I wake up and realise it's Sunday and I want to go to church. I'm the last to leave the hostel. I walk barefoot with my shadow in front of me along Noja beach, listening to the waves and carrying my pack and boots. A special start to the day. 

Breakfast at a cafe on the sea-front; double portion of tortilla, bread, several cups of tea and orange juice. I need to put on some weight; all the straps on my rucksack are now at their tightest. I think sugary drinks might be the answer and more carbohydrates. More beer perhaps. 

The church in Noja is adjacent to a very nice town square.  It has a statue of St James standing on a scallop shell set into the wall outside and some nice modern steel gates, but it's closed. So I walk out of town and eventually come to the village of Pantaleòn. The church doors are open and I creep in at the back- it has a stunning chancel apse in the shape of a scallop shell. Lovely. The service is in Spanish and the priest has two young servers; boys of about 9 who nonchalantly prop up the altar, ring the bell and enthusiastically shake everyone's hands during the Peace. At the end of the service everyone leaves within a minute- very different to what I'm used to. There was a fellow pilgrim at Mass; a German man and we walk together to the next town: this is his third Camino. 

At San Miguel de Meruelo I reach my destination, a nice albergue run by a couple of women and it's very chilled. It's a converted stone barn with a big dining table and smells of patchouli joss sticks and there is a melon placed artistically halfway up the stairs. It's also got 5 women guests! Dutch and American. We all middle aged, travelling alone, sitting round with our iPhones, chilling to ambient music. The German men are outside looking at maps. It's garlic soup and paella for supper at 8pm. Ha Ha. You have to laugh!

I read this this morning:

"More and more I'm convinced that when the great medieval spiritual teachers talked so much about attachment, they were really talking about addiction. We are all attached and addicted in some way. At the very least, we are addicted to our compulsive dualistic patterns of thinking, to our preferred self-image, and to the unworkable programs for happiness we first developed in childhood. In short, each of us is addicted to our way of thinking. This is perfectly obvious once we consider it, but we do not tend to think about the way we think!"

Richard Rohr. 

I think there maybe something about long distance walking that dissolves the normal manner of thinking; it becomes a meditative state. Perhaps walking the Camino is a way of loosening some of the hard-wiring? Back to re-solving. 

After supper I have a FaceTime call to my family in London; lovely to see their faces. 

DAY 20. 27 MAY 2016. TARRUEZA TO NOJA

I didn't sleep that well; I woke up feeling queezy in the middle of the night and didn't feel able to tackle the big breakfast that was laid out for me, just some comforting warm milk and proper muesli was fine. 

I had imagined that my walk to Laredo was going to be a simple walk downhill to the sea, but of course not! It was surprisingly strenuous up and down and then a 45 minute slog along a concrete promenade to catch the ferry from the other end of town. Loredo is a modern town with a huge number of what looked like 1980s council flats- so not pretty, but the beach was a stupendous stretch of ochre coloured sand. 

You catch the little ferry from a beach, which seemed very unlikely so I hung around waiting for something to happen. I met a nice Danish woman doing the same thing and we struck up a conversation. She was walking for 2 weeks and staying in hotels and having her rucksack couriered each morning to the next hotel- which sounds good! But she said she was rather lonely in the evenings but would be back next year to do some more. She was finding the walking hard, so I lent her my poles to try out, which were an instant hit! We had coffee and then went our separate ways. 

There were a few cyclist pilgrims on the ferry, which set us down in Santoña which is a lovely town and famous for its anchovies - hurrah! And has whole shops that sell nothing else- sadly my tummy couldn't face any at 11am. It was also where the Santa Maria, Christopher Columbus's boat, was built. 

There was to be a fiesta later in the day and I'm sad I didn't hang around, but I had booked myself into albergue and felt I need to keep walking. 

The setting was amazing - we were in the middle of a Wetland nature reserve similar to the Norfolk Broads; a network of blue blue lakes, reed beds and low willow scrub. It would be a great place for bird watching. Definitely a place to come back to!

At the end of town I walked onto a huge beach heading west and at the far end up a very steep sand-dune and onto a cliff top walk. Tricky walking on loose sand and then lots of rocky outcrops, along a narrow brown path lined with yellow gorse bushes. But the views from the top were stunning; a further bay stretched away westwards to the town of Noja in the azure blue distance. So down the cliff on the other side for a cheese-sandwich I had bought with me, and on towards Noja. The beach is dotted with spectacular jagged black rocks of different sizes  

I hadn't gone very much further when I needed to stop for the day and so I booked myself into a strange Albergue near the beach. It advertised itself as an outdoor-adventure hostel, but I was the only person there- clean but very run down. So I went to the beach to rest, but it soon got too cold, began to thunder up in the hills and then rain. So I went for a meal in a friendly cafe which was playing Flamenco songs and then back the the albergue for a siesta. 

As I walked up the steps, a huge coach of 16-17 year old French boys arrived singing football songs. Crikes I thought- another Camino sleeping challenge. Luckily they disgorged into the albergue cafe and then into the Youth Hostel next door. Phew. 

When I arrived back at the Albergue there were three more guests, including an old Japanese gentleman who sang to his washing. Luckily there was enough space for all of us to have our own rooms and close the door;  I laid down at 5pm and slept until 11pm and then got into bed and slept to 7pm. I realised that I had a slight chest infection/ tightness from my cold and really needed to sleep. I was woken by a couple of the French lads who had been out on the town all night and were hammering on the front door. 

But it had been another amazing day full of the different landscapes: beaches, sea, cliffs, sand-dunes, reed beds, rocks, lakes. A little bit of everything!

DAY 19. 27 MAY 2016. LIENDO TO TARRUEZA

The day started with a nice meeting with a German girl who introduced herself. She's injured her foot with a badly fitting insole and can't walk, so is travelling by bus but thinks she might have to stop. And then the sock disaster strikes!

I've picked up the wrong green Smart Wool hiking socks. I've got a XL pair here which means that some poor chap has got my small ones- or they're still on the washing line at Castro Urdiales. This is bad news since I only one other pair and how am I going to wash and dry them? I don't know what the Camino etiquette is on this sort of thing. I left the XL pair in the Albergue here and hope they come in handy for someone. 
I hope the owner had more than one pair... If not, that really would be disaster. Yikes. 

A well earned rest day. There's nothing to do here except watch the clouds and buzzards and listen to the wind rattle the palm tree leaves.  There's a breeze but it's sunny. 

I had a double portion of tortilla for breakfast in the bar at Liendo and then set off uphill. I was here in an hour's steady climb and settled in. A simple private alberge run by a young man Alberto and his wife- with an outside hot shower and an outside cooker, where I made a Calorie-Max lunch. Followed by a siesta and yoga before supper, provided by Alberto: pasta salad and tuna with suspicious looking turkey cubes, followed by yoghurt and a banana. 

There's no one here except me and a couple of cats and some big dogs over the fence. The Spaniards like their dogs especially scary looking mastiff types. 

I occasionally  wonder what's going on in the news; I guess the same as usual. I worry about leaving Europe. The more I wander
around Spain, the more I feel part of the same family. 

So a 'nothing happened day' which I really needed and whizzed by. Bed by 10pm in a huge empty dorm- no snoring tonight. 

DAY 18. 26 MAY 2016. CASTRO URDIALES TO LIENDO

It started with a leisurely breakfast with the Dutch women who were staying in town for the day, to collect an iReader that a pilgrim was bringing with them Pobena? 

So a short days' walk to Islares or Pontarron de Guriezo. 

I started out on a track which ran alongside a motorway with views of the sea, but which then climbed up and turned into a twisting country path which opened-up ever more spectacular views of the ocean, now a stunning blue. Past a flock of sheep who looked mournfully at me through the fence; I thought they might be thirsty. Something was amiss because they normally run away or are busy munching grass. I spent sometime talking to them... I hope they're alright. 

I come to a junction at another busy road, which gives me the choice of Bilbao or Santander- I slip between the two and carry on the  little dirt track past lots of neat allotments, shady woodland paths and a cold beer at  Islares, but it's too soon to stop and I carry on. 

I meet a group of German walkers; one of them takes photos of the scenery but then runs full tilt with her pack to catch up with her friends! She's made of strong-stuff!

The scenery is very amazing: I'm now on high grassy cliffs with the deep blue sea a long way below. 

Then an amazing encounter. Two shepherds are leading a huge sleek black billy-goat with enormous curly horns. It's obviously quite difficult and they're struggling. They walk for a while and let him off the rope- just a few feet away. I decide not to hang around! and follow one of the shepherds along the cliffs. 

Suddenly he starts calling and in a while, a line of black nanny-goats, with tinkling and clanking bells, appear from the bracken on the cliffs that he leads back to Mr 'Big Boy' billy - I had assumed that all the goats were wild and certainly wouldn't come if called!

I eventually reach a wonderful long beach with surf. Sadly the tide's in and I can't pass the very sharp rocks on the shore, but stop and admire the surfers for a bit. I'm in another interesting geological area- clint and grikes limestone I think. I wished I had stopped but with hind-sight it's a good thing I didn't. 

The beach is bisected by a deep inlet where a river joins the sea- it's a lovely green colour where it's saline but gradually turns to creek and mudflats. 

At 1pm I reach the crossing point at Pontarron de Guriezo. This is where I had planned to stay in the albergue. I have to register at the village-bar and am greeted by an unsmiling bar-maid who tells me that it's open and stamps my credencial. I trek up the hill to find it's closed, so back to the bar; where the barmaid is in a worse mood and makes a phone call. Back I go, to find a nice Municipal worker (complete with Hi-Viz overalls) who unlocks, shows me round and leaves. It's grim and dirty and I decide I can't stay. There's no key in the lock and I wouldn't fancy being here alone here, or even with a few others. 

I look on my app and discover the next Albergue is at Liendo, which is only 7.6km away, but up and over a 250m ascent. I phone ahead and book a Pension, in case the Albergue is full. I have a sandwich and some Haribo 'sours' and set out at 2pm. 

It's a steep walk; the first stages are through Eucalyptus woods and the birdsong encouraging me up the climb. Up, up, up and then suddenly I'm out amongst spectacular walls of rock overlooking deep valleys. Incredible. Empty apart from sheep. 

Eventually the UP turns to DOWN, but I'm exhausted by the time I reach the Pension in Liendo at 7pm, which turns out to be a very posh Posada. I feel very out of place in my dirty hiking gear, so the charming receptionist rings the Albergue for me- there is space there, so off I go. Part of me wishes I had stayed and blown the £75 but I didn't. 

I have a humour break-down when I ask a young German perigrina where I can find the Hospitalera to sign in ? She replies "She's gone home". I replied that it wasn't a funny remark at this time of night!

But she hadn't and had saved me a nice single bed in a quiet corner. I'm in no mood for company, so eat my sardine sandwich out the square, watching children play and listening to Samba music from the Zumba class in the village-hall. Just right. 

Liendo is a very nice village (it reminds me a bit of Bathford). The church is open and full of people chatting and children playing in the porch. It has a Gothic stone-vaulted roof and an amazing array of tall carved gilded and painted, wooden reredos of saints.

After washing my clothes and a hot shower, I go to bed feeling a bit low. 45,300 steps up 250m. Active time 6.5 hours. This has been a tough day. 

DAY 17. 25 MAY 2016. POBEÑA TO CASTRO URDIALES

Well I had a bite free night I think, but nearly boiled to death because I slept with my long-sleeved shirt on and my sleeping bag zipped up; lying as still as I could so no part of me extended beyond the bed-bug sheet. I eventually relented and risked sticking my arms out!

The head-torches started at 5.30am and since I don't have one getting dressed in the dark is a challenge. It's not until I get into the light, do I discover if clothing is upside-down or inside out. 

Today is an Earthy day. A stunning coastal walk along an old iron-mining track, land slips with alarming cracks in the path, timber propped-tunnels, a village square decorated with mining trolleys, a long curved road tunnel and a mountain being quarried from the outside. 

At Onton the yellow arrows fizzle out and I miss the track up through the woods and continue on the coastal road, which is not great walking. Slowly we drop to sea-level and through woods which is better. I am leaving Basque Country; at Castro Urdiales I'm entering the region of Cantabria. 

Castro Urdiales is a large seaside town and fishing port, with a smart promenade along two beaches and harbours. At the far end is the castle and cathedral perched high on a rock. It's busy with people strolling, walking dogs and pushing prams. 

I walk about 45 minutes to get there- the church is Early Gothic and the front door is open. Breathtaking and special. Spoilt only by a tour guide shouting at the top of his voice at a group of Spanish tourists. He throws me out and locks the door when he's finished, but at least I've seen it. 

Then I walk back down the hill and have lunch in an arcade by the harbour- more battered anchovies. They taste nothing like the canned or pickled versions- more like a firmer, finer sardines. 

I walk to the nearest albergue, which is next to the town bullring and wait until the Hospitalero to arrive at 3pm. It's a basic municipal hostel but clean with a spin dryer which is good for getting clothes dry overnight.

Then off to find a cafe with WiFi and cheap supper. I've walked about 12 miles today in 4.5 hours and got sunburnt calves.