Day 2- Ribadesella to Colunga 20.5km
(Then a taxi ride to Villaviciosa- 17km)
We are in desperate need of the 20th century marvel, the washer and dryer. After two days slogging through the mud and silage of the Spanish countryside, our clothes are in dire need of a clean, and short of taking to the river with my washer board, at the end of the day I’m just too shagged to give a….hoot.
It took us seven hours to cover today’s distance due to our desire not to slosh around in the mud more than was absolutely necessary. In fact the first seven kilometres, climbing out of Ribadesella and then the descent into La Vega, was glorious going. Due to my tremendous fear of falling, we did have to slow down our pace on the wet and mossy roads but still the sun was shining and the day was ripe with wonder. Then the fun began on the ascent from the beach at La Vega.
We were following a Spanish couple who were even slower than us as we all tried unsuccessfully to negotiate the muddy path. Then it started raining.
We tried valiantly to follow the Camino but Michael’s temper was rising as the mud not only seeped into his shoes but up his legs. That’s when we went “off piste”. That’s right, we went rogue on the yellow arrows and decided to follow the path most dry. We may have had to stay on tarmac a bit longer than necessary, and the concerned locals were stopping in their cars and speaking muy rapido about our blunder on not following the path and their fears of us being lost, but we thought that as long as we headed west we would eventually meet the arrows again. That happened in La Isla. Just in time for a late perigrino lunch of half a cow and a field of lettuce.
We waddled the remaining three kilometres to Colunga on the dry path running beside the N-632 (another M&M variation) and arrived just as the rain started, again. Research showed us that the best Albergue with a washer and dryer service was seventeen kilometres down the way. Far too long of a distance for these tired and squelching pilgrims. We had also just missed the Alsa bus by half an hour. So after waking up our sleeping taxi driver, he transported us to the beautiful little town of Villaviciosa, the apple capital of Spain, where ciders rule.
The clothes are being washed as I type and at 5.30pm, we are alone in our six bedded bunk room. In fact we are currently the only ones here at the moment as we hear the rain continue to pour outside. Tonight we drink to our success with sidre. Salut!