We had strawberries for breakfast, carried up from Potes yesterday. Buying bread for a picnic, I got into conversation with the señor in charge, who was keen to explain the different walks we could do from the site. He demonstrated the options on a map, helpfully, since we had planned to walk on the road up to the Hermitage at the top of the hill and probably return the same way.
Our packed lunch contained the standard Spanish bocadillo, half a long loaf of bread, split in two, with any filling you have available. When I stayed with Spanish family nearly 50 years ago, the filling of choice every day in each bocadillo for the six children plus me was a large, solid block of chocolate, to fill us up from the end of the school day to supper at 10 p.m.
Our walk was a real delight. The bank of the road leading up the mountain was thick with orchids, pale creamy ones and exotic purple ones, and many other alpine spring flowers. The Hermitage was interesting, when the bus load of chattering, singing, Spanish tourists had departed. In the cloisters we liked the ancient colourful and explicit manuscript pictures of scenes from Revelations; the Four Horsemen, The Beast whose number was 666, and so on. Lots of swords, blood, plagues, fire, boils and other unpleasantness.
After the Hermitage we wandered further upwards, taking our time, and many photographs. The views over the Picos were exceptionally good, sometimes
the mountains were half hidden by cloud, sometimes clear. The paths homeward were farmers paths, easy to navigate, always with the sound of the river at the foot of the valley as background. And cowbells.
Working hard all day on bird-finding resulted in three new ones for the list - the first sightings of robin, coal tit and chiff-chaff. The robin was very shy, unlike the ones in the U.K. Very good views of Griffon Vultures and other large unfamiliar raptors were fun.
Having become a little overexcited, on our return, by the sight of some vultures, or possibly eagles overhead, Himself spilled the contents of his can of beer into the seat of his canvas chair. It made a good sized lake, which he scooped back into his glass and drank. Waste not want not.
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