Day 69 – above Brañosera (derelict Refugio at 1700 metres)

The campervan area at San Salvador is a new one, built by the community. These have big advantages to the businesses in the village, who have, in effect, paid for it. There are two restaurants, both supposedly good ones, a couple of bars and a cheese shop. The village has Roman origins, and some low level sedate walks around it. Consequently it attracts quite a few motorhomes from the nearby cities at weekends (Gijon, Santander, León, Burgos). It’s always been the same when travelling in term time, though either I notice it more than ever in Spain since the pandemic, or people are actually getting away for the weekend more often.

Though it was quiet last night, two motorhomes arrived just after midnight. It’s perfectly possible to make a quiet arrival, but this was not the case here.

As well as being cautious about the choice of overnight stopovers at weekends, and this is a long weekend of course, one must also beware of rented motorhomes. The people who inhabit these are usually unaware of the unwritten etiquette that is associated with the pursuit. Hence, another reason to get on roads and tracks the bigger motorhomes cannot tackle.

These two motorhomes were families with about 8 children between them. The parents allowed the kids to use the playground on arrival, which didn’t go down well with the other people staying. Arguments ensued.

This morning there was a steady stream of departures of the other 5 or 6 vehicles staying. The parents of the two motorhomes sat between the vehicles having breakfast while the kids played. No problem in theory, but three of the older boys kicked a football, but not skilful passes, rather powerful and inaccurate shots that bombarded the vehicles that had stayed. Accidental and poor shooting for the first 7 times, but thereafter one suspects an element of the intentional, trying to wind up those not immersed in their Cantonese folklore, to whom it was all old hat.

I was greatly amused, though trying to concentrate on my Cantonese ghost story. I’ve seen this happen so many times, these days I just concentrate harder on the dead bothering the living in the rural village in my book (which actually turns out to be the reverse). I had already planned to be away by 10:30.

I continued around the south side of the National Park through the town of Cervera, where I picked up some bread, and on, as the road climbed again, to Brañosera. There are some very pleasant villages here, and despite the change of weather, all busy with weekend visitors. There’s a road though, that leads north west out of the town up into the mountains, to an old derelict Refugio at 1700 metres. It’s called a Refugio, though in its day, it was built for a different purpose.

In the early 1960s a ski resort was planned here with several lifts and a large building as the base. The building was constructed first, but even before it was completed the company went bankrupt and it was never completed.

Sadly now it just makes for sore eyes, an unsightly septic pustule on the dramatic and arresting face of the mountain, even if it is a very bleak refuge for exhausted and weather-beaten mountaineers, and they would have to be very desperate. I’ve said it before, downhill skiing and it’s associated damage to the mountains, has a lot to answer for.. It should make the most of its death throes.

I mentioned before that the weather had changed. Today, though humid and overcast in San Salvador, at 20C, it only 10C, and in the cloud up at 1700 metres at the car park (by way of an apology for so few photos, and so much cloud in them). From the car park it is only a few kilometres hike up to Sestil peak, at 2065 metres, and the dog and I took in the neighbouring peak at 2100 metres also.

Sestil is just a couple of kilometres away from Cobre cave where I was two days ago.

Mid-afternoon the rain set in, as it was forecast to. Locals had been hoping for it also. The landlady at the bar last night told me that this spring so many times rain had been forecast, but never arrived. There is a serious drought at the moment. Though the rain did come, it was short-lived, lasting an hour at the most.

I had the European rugby semifinals on in the van.

The temperature is hovering around 8C, so far too cold for any Spanish to be up here in their vans, perfect..

Here’s a couple of maps that show my wanderings over the last couple of weeks..