La Majua and beyond

Two kilometres into the walk, we stop in La Majua where there’s a bar by the bridge.  Hens strut, builders fix pipes, villagers gossip, house martins feed their young, and a man goes back and forth in his madreños, wheeling rocks over the bridge in a barrow.

man-in-madrenos

Not only the old folk wear these practical wooden clogs.  In El Puertu after the rain a strapping youth in track-suit bottoms pounded across the road in his.  They keep your feet warm and dry and raise them out of the dung and mud.

sparrow-on-madrenos

We head north to the Asturian border.  If the walk had a soundtrack, there’d be a crescendo when the track suddenly curves and you’re confronted with the river tumbling down in a series of falls.  The top of the valley is almost sealed off by rocks forming a narrow ravine – La Foz.

la-majua-waterfall

There’s an icy spring by the river where people converge for feasts.  A can of beer left in the water for 15 minutes tastes fresh out of the fridge.  I found an Apollo butterfly on a thistle, the first I’d ever seen.  It was so translucent you could see the purple flower through its wings.  It seemed fragile, as if you could blow the pigmentation away like dust.

parnassius-apollo

Though worn around the edges, it was stunningly beautiful.

apollo-butterfly-parnassius-apollo

At the top of the ravine, the way is barred by a stone wall and wooden sticks.  You climb up and around, and you’re in a different world.

at-the-top-of-la-majua-valley

You’re cupped inside a circle of mountains.  It’s often cold and inhospitable in here, with an uneasy threat of descending mist that billows out of nowhere and fills up the cirque in an instance.  But today was calm and hot. A short-toed eagle was soaring, white against the blue sky.  The herd of chamois retreated to a slightly higher spot.  We lay on the grass observed by wheatears.  Later, we climbed to the rim of the cup and looked at the lunar landscape beyond.

northern-wheatear