Day 33 – to Ribadelago, Santabria National Park, Spain

Another day, another national park, but that wasn’t really the story of the day, which was much more humorous.

About 7 pm last night I was surprised when another van pulled in, next door to me. Surprised, because I have seen so few vans.

The guy actually came over to apologise for arriving late, though as I mentioned, it was only 7 pm.

They had a French registered Renault Globecar. A campervan maybe, but huge, more like a motorhome. The guy, I guess mid thirties, was originally English, but had lived 30 years in Brittany, and was with his French girl-friend. We got chatting, though it was not warm at that time.

He volunteered to tell me, that he was taking a year break from work in the adult entertainment industry. Now to my innocent mind, that pretty vague, adults are entertained in a number of ways. But he did soon after qualify this by saying it was porn, and apparently, very stressful.

They may return to the work, but remotely, whatever that means, the year after.

I don’t know much about this line of work, except for what I have watched on the tremendous, ‘The Deuce’. Though that was the heyday of New York porn, in the 1970s, where pretty much anything went.

We didn’t dwell on the porn. The two of them did look quite unlike the usual neighbour I come across on the road though, in smart tracksuits with expensive trainers. I misunderstood initially, thinking they were travelling in their van, owned by his parents, for the year. But actually this is a 3 week break, then back for a birthday, to California and various other places, with the odd three weeks in the van.

This morning we continued the conversation. They had no plans, but soon changed to join me hiking into the mountains. I moved down onto the far side of the village to park up, a very deserted village, and they followed. I set off, saying I would be slow, with the idea they would catch me up, but I didn’t see them again.

I think they saw the track, very wet and muddy after heavy overnight rain, saw my clothing, and opted out.

The rain had given way to an incredibly clear and cloudless morning, though a windy one. That sort of weather suits this National Park really, it is quite wild and windswept, beautiful in that regard, rather than being picturesque or pretty.

A quick quote from a book I am reading at the moment, the Swedish travel writer Erika Fatland’s High, about the Himalayas. I recommend her books highly.

She says.. “Borders are like sausages. It is sometimes best not to know how they are made. “

On this hike today, at times I was only metres from Spain. You can see their wind turbines on the photo below. There are many of them. I mentioned a few weeks ago that Spain, along with Germany, lead Europe in wind power.

But Portugal doesn’t, and at the moment won’t. The law is different, and many who voice opposition to them are listened to.

Though it does seem rather ridiculous here. They turbines are in Spain, but are only visible to the Portuguese villages. Borders…

It wasn’t a difficult hike by any means, PR3 as it’s called. It ascends without being steep on wide tracks to a dammed lake, Albufeira de Serra Serrada.

At the lake I met an older Dutch couple. I had actually seen their car arrive last night. We shared conversation on the return, and got on well, more in common I think than with the porn couple, though I quickly add, it is good to meet all sorts of travellers.

The guy was a retired neurologist, and his wife lectured in bio-chemistry when she worked, they were both now 68, and clearly pretty fit, and both quite small.

They were stopping off on their way to see their daughter and her family in Porto.

On return I drove onto across the nearby border to Spain, and into Sanabria National Park. Montesinho is, in effect, the foothills of the bigger mountains in Sanabria, which ascend to more than two thousand metres, and still have some snow on them in places.

This is a big tourist area, with plenty of hotels and restaurants, which I guess will all kick off just after Easter. At the moment, other than in the town of Puebla, everything is closed, and there are few people around. Initially I was going to stay in Puebla, but the weather is set fair, and I prefer to be back up high.

So I’m in Ribadelago, back at 1000 metres asl. I’m at the parking area for some hiking trails, surrounded by spectacular scenery. There is a sign saying no campervans etc in the National Park, but none of the camp sites are open. It’s so quiet that I doubt anyone will care. Park4Night lists a stopover place as being on the residential road 50 metres away. I’ve seen this before when parking areas have ‘no vans’ signs up. It’s taking advantage really, I never like to stopover near residential property. It’s rare to have ‘no van’ signs in Spain, usually there is some area they are directed to. In 3 or 4 weeks, I think it would be out of order to stay here.

I wandered back into the village for an early evening beer, and had a pleasant chat to the bar owner. I may well have been his only customer of the evening.