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Cabo, Pico, Pueblo: How Asturias Lives up to the Tourist Brochures

October 28, 2008

Pick up any publication from the Asturias Office of Tourism and you will find it emblazoned with the legend “Asturias: paraíso natural”—“Asturias: Natural Paradise.” It’s a catchy phrase; at the very least you have to admit it’s good marketing. What’s unique about Asturias is that it actually lives up to the expectations such a slogan conjures. In this entry I’m going to take you on a brief tour of this true natural paradise. Let’s get started.

I owe most of my exposure to Asturias’ geological wonders to Paco, the program’s director in Spain. One or two weekends a month he takes Allison and I on excursions around the province. October has been a particularly good month for nature lovers. The first Saturday we drove to the Picos de Europa National Park in southeastern Asturias to visit two mountain lakes. I was a little anxious beforehand: The forecast called for rain, and you can’t drive up to the lakes if the weather is bad; it’s too dangerous.

But Allison and I must have some kind of magic touch, because we seem to be perpetually blessed with incredible weather. Streaming white clouds could not mask the determined sun as we wound our way up the sides of mountains to the lakes. If you haven’t seen them yourself, you wouldn’t believe that the lakes are there, nestled as they are in hollows between their rocky guardians.

Farmers herd cattle from pasture to pasture, and more than once we had to stop and wait for a long line of cows to move off the road. Then we crested a hill and there they were, two glittering mirrors reflecting the sky: Lake Enol and Lake Ercina. I shivered as I climbed out of the car and zipped my jacket up to my chin, but the sharp chill of the air somehow added to the wild majesty of the scene.

As if to emphasize their power over mortal man, the higher peaks wore crowns of snow, enticing and yet bleak. As to my feelings about the visit, the excess of metaphors and adjectives in this paragraph should speak for themselves.

Two weeks later Paco took us to Cudillero, a costal fishing village, and Cabo Peñas, the cape that forms the northernmost point of the province. For someone who grew up with palm trees and white sand, the craggy cliffs of the Spanish coast slake the thirst of long-deprived eyes.

Cabo Peñas was particularly magnificent. A brisk wind carried the invigorating scent of the sea to my welcoming nostrils as I looked down at the waves foaming on the rocks below. Verdant grass carpeted the land almost to the cliffs’ edge before yielding to mottled gray stone. With its outcroppings and sheltered coves, the coastline looks as though a giant mouth took a bite out of the land in times long past. It’s also a place of mystery and adventure.

Paco says that on a misty day Cabo Peñas feels like the end of the world. On clear days like the day we visited, staring out at the firm line of the horizon excites a certain thrill, the question of what lies beyond. Cabo Peñas made me understand why people become explorers.

The remainder of my nature experiences I owe to Nieves, who I have accompanied to various rural pueblos around Oviedo. Okay, I know, pueblos aren’t exactly natural, but they’re worth mentioning. One of the interesting things about Oviedo—and I suspect a large part of Spain—is that you can drive for about ten or twenty minutes out of a good-sized city and find yourself in the countryside.

In Asturias, the pueblos are tucked into valleys or cling to the sides of mountains, and from them you’d never guess that Oviedo sprawls on the other side of the peak. Of the pueblos I’ve visited—and I’ve been to nearly half a dozen at this point—Gallegos was for me the most picturesque. It’s a tiny village of neat houses situated near the top of a small mountain, and it looks out over green hills which cascade into the valley below before rising to the next mountain. The very air seems to carry a tranquility undisturbed by angry car horns, raucous midnight parties, or the big societal problems born—and tackled—in cities. Could I live in a place like that? To be perfectly honest, no; I’d get restless after a week or so. But knowing such places still exist makes it easier to face hectic city life. Everyone needs a refuge now and then.

These three snapshots of Asturias only scratch the surface of this beautiful land, but I hope they excite your interest and reinforce that the desolate dryness of the country’s center does not apply to all regions. Not that the central region has nothing to offer; we spent last weekend in Madrid and Toledo, in the very heart of Spain, which are two stunning and very different cities. You can expect more about this trip in my coming entries. But, with my bias towards mountains and rocky coasts, I think that when it comes to sheer natural beauty the north of Spain wins every time. And that, dear readers, is how Asturias lives up to the tourist brochures.

Photo 1: Lake Enol (left)
Photo 2: Lake Ercina (right)
Photo 3: Coast at Cabo Peñas
Photo 4: Cabo Peñas
Photos 5 and 6: Gallegos

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