The Picos De Europa

"Watch out, that coach is on our side of the road"

"We are very close to the edge this side"

"The cliff is overhanging the road here"

"The road is getting very narrow"

"Mind that cow"

It would be fair to say that mountain drives are probably not in Angela's 10 ten favourites list, and after our experiences in northern Spain's Picos De Europa National Park they rank even lower than going to the dentist or being nice to me!

We had been warned that the N625 south from Cangas De Onis along the western edge of the Picos, through the Los Beyos gorge, was one of Europe's most spectacular and narrowest main roads and we were not disappointed. Sadly the stunning scenery turned out to be fairly academic as we were unable to take our eyes off the road!

Angela was more worried about sharing our side of the road with oncoming coaches and trucks and I was concerned about the number of times the front or rear of the motorhome appeared to be hanging over the void, a scene reminiscent of the film "Italian Job", but without the humour!

Keen to steady our nerves after our road experiences we decided to dust off the walking boots and head in to the limestone crags of the Picos for some relaxing walks. The first, a 24 kilometre return walk along the Cares Gorge to the remote village of Cains was not quite the relaxation I had in mind.

My vision of walking in the gorge bottom alongside the river, cooled by the spray of ice cold mountain water turned out to be wildly optimistic! We did follow the river but usually 500 feet above it, on a ledge that would make mountain goats get their safety ropes out, a ledge blasted and hacked out of the sheer cliff face in the 1940s for a hydroelectric scheme.

This was the cue for some serious vertigo moments as my legs got shorter and my backside tried to morph itself to the rockface! It was then that I encountered the first of 3 bridges suspended high across the gorge, only negotiated after a buttock tucking zombie stagger!

The second memorable walk was more relaxing for me, but terrifying for Angela. The walk was 12 kilometres in the highest area of the Picos, below the summit of the 2500 metre peak of Horcados Rojas. It was not the walk itself that bothered Angela, even though it was a long and arduous trek on slippery limestone scree, it was the 1420 metre cable car trip up to the start point that had her legs turning to jelly!

For some reason cable car heights don't bother me, but Angela had the last laugh as my legs refused to take me to the viewing platform at the top. In my defence the viewing deck floor was a see-through metal grid built out from the cliff top, with the ground a mere 750 metres underfoot.

Still the walk was worth it, with stunning views north to the Bay of Biscay, but I suspect that may be Angela's last cable car trip!

The Picos De Europa is part of a much larger wilderness that covers the provinces of Cantabria, Asturias and Castilla y Leon. You may be surprised to learn that around 200 brown bears inhabit the remoter areas, a habitat they share with several thousand wolves. The conservation of both has been a relative success though the usual threats remain, illegal poisoning, poaching and human development (especially ski resort proposals).

Having driven and walked all over Yogi Bear's home in Yellowstone National Park three times now without seeing a bear, we didn't expect to see any in Spain, and we didn't!!!

From the Picos we headed down the Desfiladero de la Hermida, a beautiful name for yet another hair raising gorge drive, and the cue for mad Spanish coach drivers to frighten the life out of both of us. After that trauma we recuperated in Aires at Lierganes and Donostia San Sebastian and ensured that we remained no more than 3 feet above sea level.

The latter resides in the autonomous community of the Basque Country and whilst we were there the separatist group ETA announced they were abandoning their armed conflict with the Spanish state. It has been obvious during our travels that the provinces of northern Spain are not "typically" Spanish, but nowhere is it more obvious than in the Basque Country.

Road signs suggest a language more in common with Eastern Europe (that's my excuse for getting lost around the place anyway!) though Wikipedia indicates it is an isolated language that pre-dates the Indo European languages that cover Europe today.

The Basque country extends in to France, which probably explains why we didn't even notice we'd crossed the border from Spain, at least not until we realised that the diesel prices had gone up 20 cents a litre!

After a brief stopover in Bordeaux (a beautiful majestic city well worth a visit) we dropped in on Angela's brother at Hameau Les Ages, a remote hamlet north of the Dordogne, then followed a leisurely route up the centre of France to Dunkirk, ready for a return to the UK.

In the meantime, Angela has come to the unilateral conclusion that I need to stop snacking on crisps and nuts. Eager to obey, I have agreed to limit myself to one packet of crisps a day, a huge sacrifice. The photo with this album is proof of my compliance!

Next stop, home! Well, not exactly "home" as we have tenants living in that! We are popping back to get the motorhome roadtested, the front windscreen replaced and to overdose on some quintessential English cuisine, spicy curries and peking duck! France may claim to offer the world's finest cuisine but they are very short of curry houses!