Solo
128.17* miles hiked, 7 Cultural Events Attended
Hotel Viura, our home for yesterday and today, is a bit distinctive compared to most of the places we’ve stayed. As you can see below, it’s extreme modernism plunked down in the middle of the village of Villabuena de Álava in Navarre right next to the 17th century church. If it looks like children’s building blocks, that seems to be the theme. The jumble box theme dominates the interior and extend to the bare concrete floors and our room, an odd warren of spaces that wastes a lot of it. It felt like the designers, especially those of the interior, were trying just a little too hard. The restaurant is excellent, though, and so is the staff so that more than makes up for over design.
Pam woke up tired and not feeling well. She doesn’t have a cold but is having a queasy belly. I know she’s not 100% because she didn’t eat much of the great breakfast. As our morning was dedicated to a cultural event pertaining to a form of ingestion that is very important to the valley shared between Navarre and La Rioja we are in: a wine tasting. She was not about to miss that.
We visited the Luis Cañas Winery where on the ¼ mile walk we went from modern to traditional. The others on the tour were a nice couple from Holland, and a group of hilarious Australians. Of course, if an Australian is not funny, the government strips them of their citizenship and they are banished from the country in everlasting shame. While you would think a wine tasting would be the same no matter what continent, even the Australians had to agree, the wine flows far more freely in Spain. We drank a lot of great wine. I’m sure we paid for it, but Pura Aventura included it in the overall cost, so we have no idea. The most important fact we learned was that grapes are a fruit, so it is perfectly fine to drink wine in the morning.
A couple of interesting things stood out to me from the tour. In the wine growing valley, one of the most famous in Spain, there’s over 600 wineries. In other words, if you go on multiple wine tours across the region over several days, your liver will hurt. Something they do differently is instead of single variety vineyards, they intermix reds and whites, of all varietals. If you see a trellises in a field here, it’s a single type of grape. Part of the reason for the mixing is to take advantage of various locations and climate. We saw a beautiful picture of what the fields look like in November where they are awash in various fall colors between the white and red grape leaves intermixed in the fields.
The last part of the tour was charming as they seated us in a nicely covered area, where each table had small tapas of imberico jámon, local sausage, and made just around the corner cheese. More importantly they brought out a Reserva that was smooth as silk. As the Australian group had to go, they were leaving some of their open wine, so I asked for a little pour as they didn’t want to see it go to waste. An Aussie poured me a full glass as I kept telling him to stop. When he finally did, I told him he was my new best friend. He told me I sold myself cheap. I guess this is a location story (you had to be there), but it was quite funny.
Pam was feeling better, but not 100% so she encouraged me to go on a walk by myself. She lounged around and read books all afternoon. Those of you in the Purple Crayon book club watch out for the next meeting because she’s done and very prepared to talk about it.
Picking a hike with up, I headed to the starting point at Ábalos. As soon as I started walking, it felt weird. Pam wasn’t there. When we lived in New Hampshire, I hiked most of the 48 White Mountain 4,000 footers by myself and Pam going with me on the rest. In the intervening 18 years, I’ve always hiked with Pam. I missed her. However, it reminded me of those days walking alone so it was like an old, pleasant memory returned.
Walking through town two abuelitas (grandmas, in this case great grandmas) were sitting outside chatting and one yelled out that I needed to get a coat on. It was in the 50s and the wind was blowing well. I told them I was out for a hike and would warm up soon. She still said I still needed to put a coat on. The other asked if I was going to climb the mountain, which is exactly what I was going to do. One said “Ah, to be young again!” I laughed and pulled off my hat and pointed to my grey hair and said, “¡Soy anciano!” (I’m elderly!). They laughed and said, “Shut up, child!” and wished me luck. No matter where you are in the world, the abuelitas are always looking out for you.
The trail was a relentless up, but that’s what it takes to get to the top. It was on maintained dirt roads, and had a stretch along, for Spain, a main road. I was worried that in my haste to get started I had picked a mountain biking trail instead of a hiking trail. At a pass, the trail appeared, and after even more up, the following filled my vision.
The price of admission (all that up) was worth the view. At the top, the wind was blowing hard, and it was cold, so I followed the abuelitas advice and got my coat on. Fortunately, I was able to hunker down behind a small building as part of the radio tower on top, so I got to sit out of the wind and gaze at this stunning valley split between La Rioja on the right side, and Navarre on the left. What’s astounding is that nearly every green field you see there is a vineyard. That’s how this valley supports 600 wineries, and you’re only seeing a small sliver of the whole.
The mountain range that San León is made up of those dramatic limestone peaks that dominate the north side of the valley. In the picture above, the lower left corner by the radio tower shows a small example. (That radio tower is well below the peak.) Sadly, leaving my perch with a view, I looked to follow the path down the range. Given my well documented fear of heights, the maps show a trail that follows the spine of these knife edge peaks, I gulp hard. I see the trail goes literally across a two-foot-wide knife edge of limestone completely exposed to the crazy strong wind, and I’m thinking I’m going to have to turn back. In the most gingerly way possible, I go forward, and I realize that’s just the trail to an abandoned radio tower. The actual trail slides down to the right below the peaks, and it’s through an impressive European beech forest.
Right now, you are looking at the above photo and wondering why I would include such a boring picture. As I was walking along this path, the ground was thankfully dry because if it was raining it would have been nasty mud but in the dry it was fabulous walking. Weirdly, the forest was absolutely dead silent, the only sounds were the rhythm of my footsteps with a slight accompaniment of water sloshing in a partially empty water bottle in my pack. I’m walking along just focused on the sounds I’m making. After ten minutes of this, something happened that I have spent so much of my life trying to achieve: a meditative state. It was so beautiful!
Me trying mediation is like asking the wildest, craziest bar on the planet to calm down. I thought this was normal for everyone and could never understand how mediation worked. Over the years I have read numerous books and tried apps that show how to do mediation. I’ve always wanted the benefits meditation provides, but never could get my brain past the first step. As I’ve gotten older, that ability to focus got harder to the point I was asking my doctors for help. They’d tell me that it’s normal as you age, or I just need to develop a routine but ignored me when I said it wasn’t that.
That all changed in 2021 when my focus problems got so bad I had to drop out of UNCA because I was spending 30 hours to do homework that should have take 3-5 hours. I couldn’t keep up. I’d recently switch doctors and out of desperation I asked for help because there was no way this was normal. As you probably guessed, all my life I’ve had a raging case of untreated ADHD. Thanks to my new doctor, who has the same issues, and who actually listened to me, we got the right prescriptions working and it has been a life changing event (ask Pam!). While I’ve done OK in life with my own hard learned coping mechanisms, I can’t help but wonder how much more I could have done if doctors had listened to me earlier.
Even with getting everything diagnosed and dosed, I’ve still had a lot of trouble meditating and had given up trying. To have it sneak up on me like that was a surprise I was not expecting. I have my doubts that I’ll ever have that again but to feel it once made me feel normal and that was all worth it. Thanks, San León trail!
Down the trail was another small peak and in my moment of Zen, I thought about skipping it but I’m so glad I didn’t. At the top was something amusing. A Basque mountaineering club puts objects at the peaks of the mountains in this area. On the top of San León was a plaque, but on Cerrelunca was this beautiful object.
The front is a little door that you open and inside people have written little notes from their climbers. My favorite was “Soy Carlos, edad 7, mi primera montaña.” (I’m Carlos, 7 years old, my first mountain). My love of the outdoors is completely from my parents (Hi Mom!) exposing me to the fun of hiking, canoeing, camping, and just experiencing everything the outdoors offers. My sister Deb and I were so lucky to grow up that way. So is Carlos.
Heading down the mountain, I saw some deer tracks but figured my odds of seeing an actual wild animal in Spain was less than the lottery. Of course, 20 minutes later I see something moving and it’s a Spanish red deer. It’s not a great photo but it’s proof! Two second later it was gone, but it barked at me for the next five minutes.
Real ruins in Spain are hard to find. Over the years some government or town always tries a reconstruction effort. That’s not the case with Ermita de Nuestra Señora de la Rosa. I haven’t been able to find anything about the place, which makes me even more curious. Were they on the losing side of some pointless schism about the number of angels that could dance on the head of a pin? Were they attacked and destroyed by enemies of La Rioja? Was it just abandoned, and no one cared? The mystery remains.
Also, I couldn’t see why they would build a hermitage in such an isolated place until the goat herd wandering around the place pointed out why, by running away. About 50 feet behind the wall with the three holes was the reason. The views we sweet and didn’t require climbing all the way to San León.
After finishing the walk, I poked around the town of Ábalos because I’m like a fly to honey for a giant church. In the tiny town I kept seeing these large yarn designs on the sides of buildings, in windows, and on fences. They were everywhere in town.
Spanish towns must know I’m interested in them because all the residents hide. I saw no one in 30 minutes I spent poking around. This is the only town where I’ve seen anything like these yarn figures and was really curios as to why. I finally saw an abuelita taking bags to the trash and she looked a little askance as to why this very smelly, sweaty guy with a backpack was quickly approaching her.
She was all confused as to what I was asking about the yarn figures until I showed her a picture. I wanted to know why this one Spanish town had these and no other I’d ever seen. What was the significance? Were they good luck symbols? She laughed and laughed. They were something in the women in town did to make their houses more pretty, that’s all. So, I asked, “Art for art’s sake?” and she said “¡Exacto!” Mystery solved. I asked if she needed help carrying her bags to the trash and “I don’t need help, child.” I laughed hysterically and so did she. Full circle.
Pam was feeling much better when I got back. We wanted to try a restaurant in town, but it was closed so we ended up back at Hotel Viura for dinner. The braised beef cheeks were to die for. You must have to try them in Spain.
You reading these makes me so happy. Thank you!
Such a beautiful solitary hike. I love decorating the gates just because...
How has medication helped?