Day 19. October 2, 2015. San Esteban de Leces to Sebrayo. 26 kms

Ambulemus, nam cras moriemur

Last night was one to forget with some of the worst snoring I have ever heard. There was the bull, of course, but also the lion, and the jackal, and a chorus of smaller animals. And I fancy that I even heard an eeyore. At times it was almost a waltz, in a bass sort of way, with shorter, faster, double-rumbles sounding between the louder snorts. And the small room was stuffy because the Spanish like to keep the windows closed. The only other gringo took his mattress out into the hall. I awoke with a headache, either from the air or intermittent sleep.

 

Even some of the Spaniards were chuckling over the noisy night, and pointing to the corner of the room where the worst offender had been sleeping in blissful ignorance of the insomnia  he was causing. 

As I set out this morning, the sky was heavy over the mountains, but much lighter out to sea. With the cooler morning, smoke from a wood fire was wafting across from a farmhouse.  I followed a minor road to the coast, and then reached the coastal town of La Vega, passing a couple of horreos, traditional storage "granaries" for corn. I have seen them before in Galicia, but without the circular stones on top of the wooden supports.

I then walked for several kilometres along the cliffs before coming down into Berbes. Here I saw the welcome sign, "Desayunos 25m". And that's all it was, 25 metres.

After an omelette sandwich and several coffees, I walked on and off the highway into La Isla, and then along a narrow track under arching trees, razed cornfields on either side, to the large town of Colunga, where I bought provisions for this evening. There was no need for lunch after a large breakfast, and I feasted on figs and the occasional apple along the way.

And then it was up and up on a minor road, for the minor roads go up and over the hills, rather than round the sides, and then down a steep stony path to a creek, and then along a path beside the creek towards Serbrayo.

Here's another ploditude, a piece of advice I have been following myself for several days. Beyond having some idea of where I'm staying at the end of the day, I am no longer consulting my guide book all the time, or counting the kilometres to each town, but simply walking and enjoying whatever happens. Carpo diem. And then the villages with the possibility of coffee, and even the destinations, are a pleasant surprise and not a countdown. And tonight, for example, I was walking along the road towards a village in the distance, noticing in the corner of my eye what I thought was a family in their front garden, when they suddenly yelled, "Albergue!," and there I was, in Serbrayo.