Good Times, Good People and Goodbyes

Living the life of an ex-pat you have to say a lot of goodbyes. There’s the initial wrenching goodbye to your old life, your old country, your family and friends. Then every time you visit ‘home’ you have to say goodbye again at the end of it. And every time your family or friends from ‘home’ visit you, you have to say goodbye again at the end of that too. A lot of goodbyes. And who can say goodbye without a sense of sadness? Not me.

On the flip side, if you know that your goodbye is just around the corner it’s a very strong encouragement to make the most out of the time you have together. These last few weeks have been all about that. (And hence my lack of blogging.)

With a January visit from Dan, Jack’s big brother, we did our best to cram a good few month’s worth of quality family time into a too-brief week. There were afternoons in the play park, football on the beach, board-games galore, and a now-traditional family visit to the fabulous wildlife park at Cabárceno. (Conveniently located just 20 minutes from Santander airport, where Dan flew into.)

Most importantly of all though, there was plenty of time for brotherly snuggles on the sofa and simply hanging out together. It always melts our hearts to see how close and strong the bond is between Jack and Dan despite their gap in age and the geographical gap that separates them most of the year.

January also saw another big goodbye for us as some good friends of ours embarked on their own expat adventure, leaving Asturias for a new life in Colorado. For Jenna it will be a return home but for her husband Pablo it will be his first experience of living life abroad. Exciting times but very much tinged with sadness for us as we will all miss them both.

Luckily we got the chance to spend a lot of time with them just before they left. They had already left their jobs and so were free to climb and hang out as much as they wanted. The weather was kind and we were able to get out cragging under blue skies as much as our own work commitments would allow.

We even got to celebrate Jenna’s birthday with her, taking her and Pablo for a surf lesson at our local beach. This was something we had been promising to do with them for the last couple of years but never quite gotten around to. With the threat of that big goodbye hanging over us we finally got our act together and did it. And it was perfect.

It was one of those days when you seem to somehow unconsciously slip into step with the universe and everything just works out fabulously. From bumping into the local surf board shaper in town on the morning and thus managing to acquire a wet suit that fit all six foot three of Pablo who would otherwise have been very cold indeed spent the morning watching from the shore, to arriving at the beach to be greeted by the most perfect beginner waves possible. Some thoughtful soul had even built a little teepee structure from driftwood on the beach much to the delight of Jack who played in it for hours accompanied variously by his parents, brother and sand-digging greyhound.

Good times with good people.

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.

Teverga and the Senda del Oso

The weekend before last was our first trip away in our motorhome for a long time. So long in fact that when we turned the key in the ignition on the Saturday night the battery failed to turn over. All packed up and nowhere to go. We duly dismounted, clutching our bedding and toothbrushes, put the battery on charge and crossed our fingers for the morning.

Thankfully, our trusty steed did not let us down and we set off the next morning, a little delayed but with undampened spirits despite the showery outlook for the days ahead. Our destination was the valley of Teverga, just over an hour’s drive from here; easily doable as a daytrip but also a great place to spend a few days if you have the opportunity to linger.

The entrance to the valley of the River Trubia and the concejo of Teverga lies just off the motorway, south of Oviedo (the capital city of Asturias), its easy accessibility belying the spectacular natural beauty and wildness of the place. This is an area where wolves and brown bears live in the wild – just half an hour from the city!

The Senda del Oso – a 40km long path through this beautiful valley, and best of all, FLAT!

It’s a great destination for activity break and family getaway alike, with something for everyone. The most popular attraction is the Senda del Oso (Bear Path) a 40 km long walking and bike trail that wends through the impressive limestone valley along the path of a disused mining railway. It cuts through tunnels carved in the rock and is lovely and flat (uniquely so in this mountainous region) – perfect for little legs just starting out on bikes, trikes or push-alongs or for mums and dads towing kiddy trailers. (There are a number of spots to hire bikes along the trail for those who need to.)

A self-propelled toddler = a happy toddler and happy parents!

Jack was happy to spend hours safely zooming along the path on his moto and spotting wild flowers in the hedgerows. Below is a small selection of the flowers found by our budding baby botanist.

There are several picnic spots along the trail, at the grassy foot of crags and alongside the rushing river. If pursestrings permit, there are also a number of excellent, traditional restaurants in the villages that the path passes through. My personal favourites are the pulperia Casa Gallega in Entrago for excellent pulpo (octopus) and lacon (boiled ham) or Casa Aladino in San Martin for more Asturian fare (and an excellent 3 course Menu del Dia, including wine, for 8 Euros).

For us, the Senda also serves as an access point to the plethora of sports climbing crags that surround it. Some soar up directly from the trackside, others are approached steeply uphill.

Climbing in between showers, just above the Senda

Our friends were in the mood for a more strenuous yomp than was suitable for little legs (or adult ones carrying heavy toddler backpacks) so they set off from the Puerta de Marabio to hike some of the peaks surrounding the valley. Thanks to them for these pictures of the views from on high.

As well as wild animals the valley is also home to two Cantabrian brown bears kept in semi-captivity. Rescued as cubs after their mother was shot by a poacher they now live in an enormous enclosure alongside the Senda. At midday everyday they amble along to the edge of the Senda to be fed by their keeper – a must-see, guaranteed to delight children and adults alike.

And we still haven’t even ventured into the Parque de la Prehistoria, at the end of the valley, or the dinosaur museum at the start of it. These fun, interactive museums are our aces in the hole for a rainy day in Teverga. One things for sure, we have many years of visits here ahead of us!

On Being Good

Another fab day climbing. The January sun shone and we were climbing in our t-shirts, despite being at 700metres with snow on the mountaintops close around us.

Alberto climbing Dueto Calavera 7b, Pelugano, Asturias

Jack was in nursery and Richie and I were climbing together with Alberto. I worried Alberto might not be getting enough done, climbing in a three. I needn’t have though, turns out that after a full day’s climbing at the crag he was heading to the ‘tablon’ (bouldering gym) to train!

This reminded me, yet again (climbing’s a great sport for this), that people who are good at something don’t get to be so and to stay so by accident. It takes work, ongoing work, which takes motivation.

Alberto's tablon. No local climbing gym? Get together with some friends, rent an apartment, gut it and build your own wall. Now that's motivation!

Top climbers don’t find it all easy, even though it might seem that way when you read of their exploits in magazines. On the contrary, top climbers are the ones who try really, really hard. On every route or boulder problem, on every day of training. They’re the ones who aren’t defeated by failure but tie back into the rope and step back onto the rock for another try until eventually they top out victorious. And so it is with any sport or indeed any walk of life.

So the next time I reach an impasse, be it on the rock or not, I’m going to take it simply as a challenge to work out the next move and to train a little harder to get the necessary power.

Travelling with Babies and Small Children

I’ve just been reading a great blog by some expectant parents who are clearly sick of receiving unsolicited ‘wisdom’ from jaded been-there-before parents whose primary message seems to be that their life is now over. It’s prompted me to share some of my own experiences as the mother of a two year old and the proud possessor still (by the grace of the universe and the strength of my fingernails), of a life…

Hanging on by my fingernails....Fontainebleau, France (Baby out of shot, playing with chalkbags.)

One of the primary messages of the naysayers seems to be that you’ll never travel anywhere once you have a child. Simply not true.

Of course the journey will be different….

City breaks still delight but they now stand or fall on the quality and quantity of available playparks, rather than trendy bars and restaurants. Note, if you didn’t know it already: a leisurely meal becomes an oxymoron as soon as there’s a baby in the equation.

For our regular climbing and surfing trips we’ve had to suck it up and buy a motorhome (or RV). Terribly unglamorous but definitely functional. (Think fitting in pushchair, baby backpack, surfboards, climbing gear, toys, travelcot etc etc….oh, and one ungainly greyhound.)  Luckily we were never terribly glamorous in the first place so the fall from grace was not so difficult to bear.

A home away from home at the foot of the crag. Catalunya, Christmas 2011

And who really cares about sacrificing street cred when it means we get to keep climbing in gorgeous places like this?

Me climbing, Dad entertaining baby, newly made friend belaying. Os de Balaguer, Catalunya

Yes, indeed. Travel you can, wherever your particular passions may take you.  In fact, the day comes, sooner than you might think, when the little tyrant darling will be telling you exactly suggesting destinations and directing your activities when you get there.

'I think the crux is just over the roof Dad. You'll need that crimp out right.'

Below, Jack oversees a surf lesson for my friend on our local beach.

'I said faster on the pop up. Oh, hang on, there's a photographer about.'

Ah yes, each stage of parenthood comes with its particular joys and challenges. That it is a stage is particularly important to remember at all times. Nothing stays the same. A comforting thought in times of trials and a wake-up call in times of (particularly fleeting) smug ‘We’ve got this parenting thing all sorted’ moments.

In some ways the earliest stages of babyhood lend themselves particularly well to travel. Pre-walking babies are really at their most portable. They weigh little, are pretty immobile and they sleep a lot and just about anywhere, freeing you up to do your thing.

The early days - Jack snoozes in his pushchair while Mummy and Daddy get some bouldering in. Resconorio, Cantabria

On the flip side however, while Jack was at his most portable I was at my most immobile. Flooded with happy, hazy-making breastfeeding hormones I was content to pass the ill-defined days away on the sofa with him mostly clamped to my boob, dreamily gazing at him in simple amazement. This from a woman who never wanted babies.

And then, when we’d finally get him off to bed in the evening, we’d heave a sigh of tired relief….and break out the digital camera to review footage of him from that day….

Yup, take it from me, babies can accompany you to places you never even dreamed of.