Springtime, Fully Loaded

Just as one swallow does not a summer make, one sunny weekend away in the campervan doesn’t necessarily mean that our springtime has really sprung. But two weekends on the bounce? Well, now you’re talking.

Being the unpredictable, adventurous souls that we are, this weekend we packed the van and headed off to……drum roll please…..Teverga! Ah, but there is more to this valley than may have met the eye of my blog readers thus far. Saturday we headed straight to the Puerto de Marabio, a high mountain pass with stunning views, a little hermitage, great walking and biking tracks and, you guessed it, some great rock climbing too.

Puerto de Marabio

Further irrefutable confirmation of the arrival of spring lay all around us, despite the presence of snowy caps on the very high mountains in the background. Spring flowers carpeted the meadows and poked their heads joyously out of every available nook and cranny.

The hillsides were speckled with blossom laden trees and the stark nakedness of their wintry branches was softened as nature began to dress them once more. Here’s a picture of a tree I photographed in its autumn finery at the end of November now displaying the latest spring-summer greens.

Another season, another windy day

I guess in reality winter has been relatively short-lived here, the harshest of the weather only really kicking in in mid-January, but it has felt long enough and we are all glad to be returning to a life spent more outdoors.

Another weekend, another chance to play in the dirt

Another day, another place to sleep

Another Sunday, another cave-based siesta. Somebody just woked up. This playing outdoors all day sure is tiring.

Happy Springtime everybody, and happy Earth Day too!

Linking up to Country Kids at Coombe Mill. Click the badge to hop on over and check out lots more family fun in the outdoors.

A Sunny Weekend in Los Valles del Oso

Finally, last week, spring decided it was time to be properly sprung and then rapidly proceeded to catapult us full pelt into summer. With temperatures forecast to be in the high 20s over the weekend there was only one thing for it: load up the autocaravana and hit the road.

As time was short (and our van painfully slow-moving) we decided on a brief trundle just as far as the valleys of Quirós and Teverga, south of Oviedo city. The ‘Valles del Oso’ or valleys of the bear as they are known. (And yes, they do actually have some bears there.) It’s a great spot for family days out, has some world class sports climbing and some great places for overnight van camping. So that’s all our boxes ticked then. Who needs to travel further afield when you have all this on your doorstep?

Clear blue skies, with one rather odd shaped cloud, above a high snowy peak in Quirós last weekend

The carpark at Entrago, Teverga as the sun came up on Sunday morning. Very popular with climbers and families from Oviedo and Gijón there are always plenty of children to play with at weekends here. It´s a great spot for free van camping with newly built toilet and shower block, water and waste facilities, a football pitch, and kiddies’ climbing wall as well as being alongside the Senda del Oso path and in the heart of the Teverga valley. Oh, and there´s a couple of bars and restaurants just round the corner too. Perfect.

Saturday we spent at the very family-friendly crag of Quirós, at sector La Selva. With plenty of trees providing shade at the foot of the crag this was the perfect place for a very hot day. As well as preventing the many children there from burning the trees also provided some unroped climbing opportunities for them.

This year we have finally abandoned the baby back pack and Jack is managing the approach to crags (mostly) under his own steam. I can´t tell you what a liberation this is! The last couple of years it has mainly fallen to Richie to carry the backpack with Jack, an increasingly heavy, and oftentimes wriggling, load. Meanwhile I have been playing my part by carrying up ALL the climbing gear. So that´s a 70 metre rope, a couple of harnesses, 20 or so metal quick draws, shoes etc. Oh, and probably some food and water too. Not to mention a few toys and perhaps some sun cream. I think what I´m trying to say is it´s been HEAVY. Especially on the steeper approaches, where I have on occasion found myself huffing and puffing and bent forward like an old crone. Now that my load has been lightened after such a long time it feels almost like I can breezily levitate uphill. Winner.

Of course walking with a  toddler does mean taking things at a rather more leisurely pace. Jack, Dogly and I made the (usually 20 minute) descent to the car from La Selva in a sedately fascinating hour or so. There were flowers to be sniffed, sticks to be collected, water to be drunk from fuentes and cows and goats to be inspected.

The ministry of silly walks.

Eventually we made it down to the carpark by 6pm. At which point Jack insisted on taking out his balance bike for some off-roading action. Only when he was covered top to bottom in muddy splashes, true mountain biker style, after some daring stream traversing was he finally content to return to the camper for tea. Meanwhile his poor mother was exhausted from chasing him up and down the bumpy paths as he gleefully chucked himself downhill at speed. Still, my payoff came the next morning when he slept in until 9 am.

Climbing at Eléctricos, Teverga

Sunday was spent climbing with more friends at Electricós in Teverga while Jack mainly played with his diggers in the dirt, made letters from twigs and sneaked in a little siesta in a shady cave. That evening we happily trundled home again, all contentedly exhausted from a weekend spent playing outdoors.

Reflections on New Year’s Day

It’s been a lovely Christmas holiday here in Asturias. The sun has shone and shone and we have climbed and climbed. Today is cooler and wet – a good day to catch up on a little writing and reflecting in front of the wood burner. As I type my body is aching from this unaccustomed barrage of consecutive climbing days. My head is aching a little too, but that’s a different story

Our friend David in mid-flight. Villa de Sub, December 23rd.

Santa Claus visited last week and scored top marks with his gift. The instructions to him had been nice and specific and easy to follow: ‘a Fireman Sam fire engine with lots of buttons and flashing lights and a nee-naw’. The house has echoed to wailing sirens ever since.

The jolly red fellow also delivered gifts from grandparents and relatives in the UK, including Jack’s first camera. He’s already building an impressive photography portfolio. Some of the photos are at rather an artistic angle and some of the close-up portraits of his parents are less than flattering, taken as they are from his viewpoint, looking up. Great for capturing double chins and nasal hairs. Luckily Mum gets veto over any publication.

The beach on Christmas Day, at a rather jaunty angle. Copyright Jack.

A cheeky self-portrait of the photographer

Now we just have to sit it out and wait for the Reyes Magos (the three Kings) who pay their visit on 6th January (the feast of the Epiphany.) Traditionally it is the Reyes who bring children their gifts in Spain and so it is that we find ourselves rather awkwardly caught between two Christmas cultures. I would have been tempted to traitorously ditch the Santa Claus tradition entirely in favour of the Reyes if it were not for their timing. Presents that arrive the day before the new school term starts can’t be played with in the Christmas holidays. And that would suck. For everybody. So Santa had to visit but so do the Reyes so that Jack isn’t the only child in the village to wake up to an empty stocking on the 6th. Because that would suck even more.

Jack delivers his letter to Prince Aliatar, the messenger to the Kings, at the school Christmas show. Note: I am not the only one confused by the surfeit of present-giving traditions, all the children were wearing Santa Claus hats!

Happy New Year everyone! May 2013 bring you all that you wish for (via whichever wish delivery system you choose to believe in )

An Autumn Weekend in León

Finally, after months without rain, the drought has ended. This is a cause for great celebration. Crops have suffered, drinking water supplies have dwindled and this corner of ‘Green Spain’ was showing signs of scorching at the edges, its usually lush verdant hues beginning to be tinged an unbecoming yellow and brown.

Now that’s what you call a dry reservoir. El Embalse de Riaño, León this September

Last Wednesday normal service was resumed. Autumn arrived in Asturias with a sudden snappy dip in temperatures and the heavens opened. You could almost hear the earth breathe a sigh of relief.

So shallow and fickle is human nature however (or at least the humans in this household) that by Thursday and with a long weekend looming we’d already become bored with the rain and decided to hightail it over the mountains to León, where drier climes (and, yes, climbs) awaited us.

This is one of the many great things about living in Asturias - we have the best of both worlds. While Asturias has a mild maritime climate, across the Cordillera Cantabrica in León a harsher continental climate reigns, with hot, dry summers and cold, snowy winters. The upshot is that we live mellowly surrounded by soft fertile greens but easily escape the rain that feeds them if it should happen to inconvenience us (i.e. by falling at a weekend).

The drive over the Puerto de San Isidro is always spectacular and perhaps never more so than in autumn. The steep sides of the mountain pass are densely wooded and I have never seen such a variety of shades of reds and yellows as were on display. Sadly, on the way up the pass we weren’t able to make a photo stop, as stopping in our heavy, underpowered motorhome on this steep, unrelenting mountain climb is best avoided for fear of never getting going again. Must. Not. Lose. Momentum. is our mantra, muttered through gritted teeth as we lean forward in our seats desperately trying to stay in third gear.

Looking out from the crag at Pedrosa, Leon

Still, I hope some of the photos from the weekend give at least the tiniest inkling of how beautiful the autumnal colours were. On talking to our friend Alberto about it (he’s a fanatical mountain runner and climber and knows the Cordillera Cantabrica like the back of his hand) he informed me that the very best place to view the autumnal display is by hiking in to the Pena del Viento peak from the top of the pass at San Isidro. From there you look back down into Asturias from León and, he assures me, it is like standing above a volcano, so vivid and startling are the autumnal reds. Maybe next year.

Alberto climbing at Pedrosa, above the Valverdin valley, Saturday morning

Walking back to our motorhome in the early morning chill. (After a dog walk, not a night on the tiles, natch.) We overnighted tucked away in the trees, alongside a river, on the outskirts of the bustling little town of Boñar.

Gratuitous photo of Jack entertaining himself at the crag, learning how to clip a bolt

Silent Sunday

Sport

I was never very sporty at school. Small and studious, it was clear from an early age that I was never going to make it to the Olympics. Although I did attend a Maths Olympiad in University College Dublin when I was 15. Not quite the same levels of excitement.

The first (and only) time I tried to throw a javelin, I clonked myself on the head with it. Funnily enough, they never let me try the shot putt. My memories of volleyball are of falling on my arse a lot. Being less than statuesque, basketball stardom also failed to beckon, although I do recall being praised for my passing. Sadly my quick-fire passes sprang more from a deep sense of ‘oh my god, get this thing away from me’ rather than from any technical skill or savvy game planning.

And so it was that I limped (mostly metaphorically, although I did once sprain my ankle in a tangle with a trampoline) through my Physical Education in school. My long-suffering P.E. teacher Miss Larkin never lost her enthusiasm, however. Which sometimes somehow just made it all seem worse. But sometimes her positivity was so powerful it even reached me.

Her advice to us all that having a sport that we played would serve us well in later life as a means of meeting people and making new friends, especially if we ever had to move somewhere new, really resonated with me. I guess I was always about the friends. You can keep your medals but I will work hard for a decent social life.

And so it ultimately proved to be. Despite failing to find my ‘thing’ all through school, in my early twenties I found climbing. Dragged unwillingly along to a climbing wall in north London by an enthusiastic boyfriend, to my great surprise I quickly found myself hooked.

Here was a sport that was social without being a team sport. (All that letting your teammates down and being last to be picked gets a bit tired.) Here was a sport where you could just compete against yourself. Getting to the top of routes that felt hard to me gave me real satisfaction, it didn’t matter that others around me were doing far harder stuff.

Best of all, here was a sport you got to practice in the most beautiful and fun of settings. Weekends away with friends started to be spent at the crags of the Peak and Lake Districts and on the sea-cliffs of Pembroke. Holidays were taken to relaxing sports climbing destinations like Mallorca and Kalymnos.

And slowly, without really noticing it, I started to get fitter and stronger and healthier. And, (dare I say it?), even somewhat sporty. Finally gaining confidence in one sport made me much more open and able to try others. Later I would also get hooked on surfing. Being motivated to perform well in climbing would make me turn to pilates and core-strengthening exercises as well as being more aware of my overall aerobic fitness.

Me, climbing at Gandia, Alicante on New Year’s Day 2011

Now, as an ex-pat in Spain I have really lived the truth of Miss Larkin’s words. The quickest and easiest friendships to form have been with other climbers. They are also the deepest. Climbers are the people we spend the most time with. The shared sporting passion unites where language and cultural barriers could divide.

The two photos that accompany this post neatly illustrate the impact of this sport in my life. We had travelled to Alicante in our new motorhome to spend the Christmas fortnight in sunny southern Spain. On 31/12/2010 we pulled up at the foot of Gandia crag at around 7pm. Packing a bottle of Cava and a seafood platter we were ready for an exciting New Year’s Eve spent in our camper with our 14 month old son.

Richie stepped out of the van to make a phone call, as reception was poor inside. At precisely this moment, some Galician climbers we had previously met in Fontainebleau happened to be descending from the crag after a day’s climbing. And that is how we ended up seeing in the New Year with them in their friend’s luxury villa outside Alicante.

New Year’s Eve amongst friends

Sport. It’s a wonderful thing.

This post is for the Olympics inspired ‘Sport’ theme on The Gallery. Click below to visit more Gallery posts.

Silent Sunday 29/07/2012

Another Day in Paradise

Yesterday was one of those perfect days that yet again reminded me how lucky we are to live in ‘el paraíso natural’. We spent the morning exploring Seguencu, in the concejo of Onís. It´s a west-facing crag and thus the perfect venue for a morning of shaded climbing on a cloudless summer’s day.

Despite being a short drive outside the busy tourist town of Cangas de Onís (gateway to the Picos mountains and hub for adventure tourism), Seguencu itself is peacefulness personified. At over 600 metres above sea-level and with the last few kilometres of access via a bumpy and steep track the approach is not for the faint-hearted driver (nor for the owners of low-slung cars.)

The views from Seguencu crag yesterday

By two pm the sun had shifted round far enough to be creeping on to the rock face and it was time for us to beat a retreat. Walking out in the sun we felt the full, fierce heat of the day and the desire to immerse ourselves in cool waters quickly overcame us.

Where there are mountains there are, of course, rivers and where there is Richie there is always an eye to exploration. This was his opportunity to investigate a spot he had previously spied from the car as we drove through the Amieva valley outside Cangas and which he had speculated upon as a potential swimming hole.

Now, many are the wild goose chases we have embarked upon together. Richie is prone to frequent sightings of ‘El Dorado’ from behind the steering wheel. A drive through any new area is never complete without a few impromptu stops where we swing off the road and then hike off the beaten path to investigate something that has caught his eye and sparked his enthusiasm. Often the crag that looked spectacular from a distance turns out to be a chossy pile of dangerous, loose rock. Sometimes, though, the shimmer in the distance denotes a real jewel. And so it was in this instance.

A short, easy walk down from the roadside brought us to the meeting of two rivers. One was shallow and gentle with rocky platforms perfect for paddling, splashing and young swimmers. The other had deeper pools perfect for plunging into. Both were cool and crystal clear.

The perfect end to a perfect day.

.I’m linking this post up to Country Kids over at Coombe Mill. Click the badge below to visit some more outdoors family adventures.

The Greatest Journey – Part One

I was tagged in this travel meme by the lovely Emma of A Bavarian Sojourn way back in the mists of time. Well, 6 weeks ago, which in the internet realm of insta-response is in actual fact aeons. I can only hang my head in shame. I am a Bad Blogger. And now that I am finally getting round to it, I’m going to shamelessly flaunt the rules (of which I am unsure anyway, so maybe I just think I’m flaunting them) and break the post down into two. I mean, who can possibly cram the greatest journey into one miserly blog post? (Answer: better bloggers than I. *Hangs head in shame again*)

Aanyway…..without further ado, I bring you ‘The Greatest Journey: Part the First.’

As the greatest journeys often do, our 5 week Californian road-trip back in 2008 pretty much planned itself. With friends, family, must-sees and must-dos dotted across the golden state, all we really had to do was to follow the dots.

Flying into LA, we kicked the trip off staying with one of my closest friends, who was living halfway between Topanga Canyon and Malibu with her husband and young son. Good food, good wine, good company and a hot-tub on the deck. What more could you ask?

Well, I guess if you were being greedy you could also request proximity to great surf beaches, extensive hiking trails and one of the most exciting cities in the world. Well, would you look at that? Tick, tick, tick.

Surfers at Malibu. (It wasn’t actually my favourite break to surf. But, hell, it was Malibu, man!)

After a heady few days in and around the smog of LA we headed out to the national park at Joshua Tree. The desert landscape there is almost other-worldly in its strange, harsh beauty and it’s home to some awesome climbing, as well as lots of wildlife. We saw several coyotes during our stay and even a bobcat stalking right through our campground. Yikes!

A coyote standing proud just metres from our campground

We had timed our visit for the end of January and into February so that temperatures wouldn’t be too high for climbing (plus flights are at their cheapest then in the post-Christmas lull). The Californian winter didn’t let us down – the desert days were perfect with clear blue skies but not so sweltering as to be sloth (or sweat) inducing.

‘White Rasta’ – an iconic (and photogenic) boulder problem at J Tree
Blue skies behind, but in the shade I’m wearing a down jacket and thermal hat, indicating perfect climbing temps for maximum friction

Here in the middle of the desert, far from any light pollution, the clear, bitterly cold nights produced starlit skies that were to die for – and you seriously could have if you’d been ill-prepared camping. We slept in 5-season sleeping bags, on Therma-rests and still needed our thermal hats on to sleep. (The 5th season, if you’re wondering, relates to expedition/mountaineering use.)

Our ‘cosy’ campsite, hewn from the granite of J-Tree. The night skies were so bright that we didn’t even have to use our headtorches most of the time.

Richie’s birthday fell while we were at Joshua Tree and we celebrated by driving to Twentynine Palms for the evening and relaxing our cold and worked muscles in hot springs under the vast canopy of the night sky. Bliss.

Despite this indulgent interlude, after several days of the privations of desert camping we were ready for some full-on modern comforts – and where better for full-on indulgence than Vegas, baby!

The view from the top of the Stratosphere, Las Vegas, where we rode the aptly named Skyjump and Insanity. I feel a little queasy just writing this.

Luckily, we discovered that it is perfectly possible to do extravagant Vegas on a shoestring – just be sure and STAY AWAY FROM THE BLACKJACK. You can get great deals on rooms because the casinos are so sure you’re going to lose all your money at the tables, plus they’ll comp you cocktails all night long (or day if you’d rather – normal hours don’t necessarily apply here). The all-you-can-eat buffets may vary in quality and price but you certainly need never go hungry.

For our visit, we mostly gawked at the high-rollers, goggled at how quickly you can lose a LOT of money and played a little tournament poker, where your losses are limited to your initial stake and your fun lasts as long as you stay in the game (all the while quaffing cocktails )

After two days of sensory over-stimulation (broken up by some climbing at nearby Red Rocks) we managed to quit Vegas and Nevada and return over the state line to California, with our wallets and sanity still relatively intact.

Our next destination was Bishop, a 5 hour non-stop drive north of Vegas. As our route took us through Death Valley National Park some stopping was inevitable, however. As well as being wowed by the views we even stumbled across a museum of the Old West and got to check out some of the haunts of ‘The Hole in the Wall Gang.’

Here we are on an exploratory detour. I was slightly concerned at this point that we might never reach civilization or paved roads again. Also, if you look closely you can just make out our surfboards squeezed into our little hire car. That got us some strange looks in the desert.

Bishop is a gorgeously typical small western town with a Main Street you feel like you’ve driven down before, even on your first visit. It’s got excellent skiing nearby as well as some world class bouldering and climbing. For me it was a first visit and a chance to meet Richie’s friends Wills and Lisa, who kindly put us up and showed us around the whimsically named Happy and Sad Boulders and the spectacular Buttermilks.

To reach our next destination, San Francisco, we would have to cross back west over the Sierra Nevada and this was to prove more challenging than we realised.  It being February, the mountains were naturally living up to their snowy name. Many of the mountain passes in this range are simply closed for months throughout every winter and even more roads were closed on the day we travelled, owing to a particularly big snow storm brewing.

Roadside signs had been warning of the impending storm for days but we thought we would make it across the interstate from Reno just in time. Unfortunately we had severely underestimated the scale of the storm that was about to hit and of the crossing that we had to do.

As we hurriedly scuttled north from Bishop to Reno, naiively hoping to outrun the brunt of the storm, our first near-disaster struck when we got pulled over for speeding by a state trooper. With his reflective aviator shades and humourless questioning he was a tad intimidating. But then he suddenly softened and to our complete astonishment told us he wasn’t going to ticket us and that Richie could count it as a belated birthday present! (Believe me, this would NEVER happen in Spain.) He must have felt sorry for the tourist idiots in their ditsy, impractical PT Cruiser, laden down with surfboards and heading for the eye of a blizzard.

Eventually, we made it to Reno as the first snow flurries started. By this stage it was obvious that we needed to buy chains (what now? and how exactly do you put those on?) before venturing anywhere near the interstate.

Richie chose this moment to regale me with stories of the first pioneers to make this same crossing here at Donner Pass – of how they were stranded for months in the snow and how they eventually resorted to cannibalism. Nice.

Thus it was that with chains clanking in our trembling hands we paid the toll-booth operator and took our chances ticket at the entrance to the I80 interstate. ‘You need to pull over right there and put your chains on your vehicle now,’ he told us. And then he wished us luck for the journey. I had a feeling we were going to need it.

Rozas – Sandstone Bouldering in Northern Spain

Last Sunday (before our trip to Cabárceno) we visited Rozas, a recently discovered sandstone bouldering area in Burgos. Set within a beautiful forest the shade provided by the trees made climbing possible despite the high temperatures.

The magical woodland atmosphere was reminiscent of that far more famous forest, Fontainebleau, and the quality and quantity of the boulders only added to this impression.

Me on one of the easier problems of the sector. Still took me SEVERAL attempts.

The high concentration of boulders and wide range of difficulty meant that despite the vastness of the area as a whole we were all content to spend the day in one relatively small sector.

Javi on something somewhat harder

We shall certainly be returning in the future to explore and climb some more.

Martin on the same problem, with similar levels of concentration

Alberto on a very fingery 7a+  Again, totally focused on the next hold

Check out the slideshow below for a sequence of Bittorio climbing. He’s the guy who first discovered both this area and the nearby Santa Gadea. We have a lot to thank him for.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.