Villaviciosa to Pola de Siero 26.4 kilometers


Horneos used to store corn for the chickens. The unusual pillars prevent rats from climbing in.


We got up not in the best of moods. Still slightly hungry after last nights poor meal and in dire need of coffee and some breakfast. We bumped into the Spanish ladies again but they were moving more slowly than us, we were on a mission for coffee.

We travelled thirteen arduous kilometers before we found a bar. We had our heads down and our eyes all but shut, without food and coffee we were fit for nothing. So glad were we to find food we just ordered and sat down not noticing the French couple sitting there again. By hand gestures and the word “Oviedo” we realized they were asking for our destination tonight. We said “No Gijon” they looked askance “No Gijon Oviedo” they said. After much hand gestures and the help of some others we found out we had taken a wrong turning outside Villaviciosa and now we were on the Primitivo and no longer El Norte. We could turn in Oviedo and rejoin El Norte or we could stay on the Primitivo, the decision could wait. Either way we were not going to Gijon tonight.

Oviedo was too far for us today and the French left while we ate our late breakfast, we would not see them again.

Just then John arrived jumping up suddenly from behind a wall. We all stocked up with water and he joined us for the day. Funny how Viv calls me The Mallory Bunny and struggles to keep up, yet her and John are off in front all day and now I can’t keep up.


The day passes quickly though, at the back I can more or less go at my own pace just occasionally catching up with the conversation. John seems to have an opinion on every political situation. I tell him he is not entitled if he has never voted. You cannot blame those who choose to vote for their opinions if you cannot be bothered yourself.

Eventually we arrive at the outskirts of Polo de Siero. We pass a few bars and eventually stop at a bar in the square, drink time. John, it seems, has a schedule and we work out that he can just about manage it, but he will not be stopping here. We give him my number and he promises to call, then we set off to look for a hostal. John, being over helpful asks some local guys and they set me off for the Hotel Loriga. We wave goodbye, this is the last time we see John.

No amount of ringing the bell will bring a response  at the Hotel so we set off to look for another. It is quite futile so we head out toward the alburgue. The hospitalero welcomes us in and gives us a stamp. There is male and female shower room and toilet. It is quite spacious with three shower cubicles in each. The book says 18 beds but we can only count twelve.

Anyway being in an alburgue meant we could get everything washed and hung outside. We were early enough to have the place to ourselves and enjoyed the free time, before heading off to the square again for food.

In the square we hit the usual problem, nobody was serving food. In the end we went to a kebab house that was doing platos and had chicken and chips. We may be getting plenty of exercise but we are not getting healthy food choices. Beer in cans as well, living the high life here.

We returned to the alburgue and the hospitalero was gone. It was locked up, but we had a key. Inside we were totally alone, for twelve euros we had a huge building to ourselves. We are in for a peaceful night.



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