Santiago de Compostela
September 19 – 26, 2022
Monday – Tuesday – Wednesday – Thursday – Friday – Saturday – Sunday – Monday
Saturday – Villafranca del Bierzo– Santo Estevo
Map Link
Our fair weather was not to last: we had been really lucky so far, but today that would change. We left Villafranca del Bierzo under damp and cool skies. It would be a slightly shorter riding day, and our departure wasn’t until almost 10:00 am. The roads were good and fast to start, but then we jumped off onto a winding, forested road and things slowed down considerably.
Sections like this make me not want to follow the Way of the Clam – ick!
Nice bridge design!
We were traveling along the Way of the Clam – and on much nicer roads than the one in the first picture – when Hana pulled off to the side: the road was closed ahead. She consulted her GPS and we made our first real U-turn of the tour.
A nicer road to walk on the way to Santiago, near the village of Ruitelán; note the appearance of Clam-cycles!
Turned around to find a new route – I love the outfits!
Quickly on our way – again
An interesting build style that I hadn’t seen before
Our U-turn detour kept us from the relaxed forested roads and instead put us on the motorway. It went in the same direction, at least, and didn’t go on for too long. At the town of Becerreá, we left the motorway behind and crawled through the city’s streets. By now, the rain that had been threatening all morning made good on its threats: the pavement and my visor were getting wet.
Pulled over for a gear swap
When planning what riding gear to take on this trip, I figured that the odds were greater that it would be “cool and wet” rather than “hot and dry”. Therefore I chose to leave the mesh jacket at home and instead brought the waterproof Klim jacket and my Rukka pants. It turned out to be the perfect combination for this trip. The jacket was comfortable on even the warmest of days, could keep me warmer with a layer or two, and the outer layer of Gore-tex meant that any rain could be handled without additional gear or stopping. So while everyone else in the group rummaged through their top cases to get their rain gear out, Dan* and I sat on our bikes and waited.
* Dan has BMW gear that is waterproof as well
Nothing for us to do but wait
Leaving Becerreá behind, we entered a thick forest – a thick and wet forest. The rain was light, but it was steady. The temperature was cool as well: the gauge on my BMW’s dash was 9°C (48°F) and I was in no hurry to dash through this area. The Canadians, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all and were quickly out of sight.
Lovely views beneath the clouds
Dog crossing
Dan and I were having a discussion about many things, including the weather, the gear, the views and where Mac and Micah were. Neither of us had seen them for some time. They were somewhere behind us, and while I knew that they wouldn’t ride very fast on these roads, they should have at least been visible in some of the stretches.
Shortly after this, Hana pulled over at a place that obviously wasn’t a viewpoint or previously planned. She jumped off her bike and walked brusquely down the line, instructing us all to “wait here!”. Hana had received a message from David and she was going to ride back and check on things. She left us all standing in the misty rain, speculating on what had happened.
I used this as a chance to, um, “take a break” in the bushes
Eventually Hana came back leading Mac, Micah and David. At least they were all on their own vehicles! No words were exchanged as to what happened, just a quick nod and then we all pulled in behind the riders and David once again took up the rear. Dan and I spent more time speculating on what had happened, as it still wasn’t obvious what had gone on back there.
Hana kept us at a steady pace as we left the forest behind and entered a landscape of open fields and
patches of woods. The group pulled off into a gravel lot for a coffee stop at Meson O’ Pacio, near San Antolín. The rain had let up by then and we all made a rush for a hot drink. Since I don’t drink coffee, I opted for a nice hot chocolate. It was hot, and there was chocolate, but it wasn’t exactly “nice”. The cocoa came in a little paper sachet, and the sugar in a separate tube. I mixed them together in the mug of hot milk and it was… well, it was hot at least.
I finally had a chance to talk with Mac about “the incident” and I admit that I was surprised that it was Micah that had gone down. Micah had been riding motorcycles for years, but Mac only got her license a little over a year ago. It just goes to show that no one is immune to road gremlins. Mac told me how she had glanced back in her mirrors to see Micah sliding across the road. His bike had slid out in a corner and low-sided. Fortunately he was OK, with only minor damage to his gear and the bike. Bruises would appear later, of course. Mac and Micah had their own comm system and could chat just as easily as Dan and I did, so she was able to immediately confirm that he wasn’t seriously injured. But still…that’s not something that you ever want to see!
View across the fields at our coffee stop
While we enjoyed the break, there was further discussion about the weather and what we wanted to do with our ride. The planned route had us going through more mountainous roads and although the rain had stopped for now, it looked like it could start again at any minute. It was still cool and while no one really said it, there was no doubt that some in the group were a little shaken up with the recent events. Hana made some adjustments to the route and after finishing up our drinks, we were once again on our way. The new route avoided the mountains and instead we were on the motorway again. Of course now that we were on an “easy” road, the sun came out and it was brilliant weather. Still, the mountains were probably covered in clouds, damp and cool, and I think that we had made the better choice.
Spanish city of Sarria
Out of the mountains and into the sun
Motoring motorcycles on the motorway
Evidence of recent forest fires
We eventually left the motorway behind and though the roads were smaller, they were still pretty fast. The landscape was pleasant, with the pavement wedged between mountains and generally following the Sil River. There weren’t a lot of towns, and the ones that we did go through were small and interesting. As mentioned before, there was a distinct lack of traffic. That is always appreciated, as I hate being behind a car, even if they are going as fast as I want to go. Just having them “there”, blocking my view; it drives me crazy. There was no such trouble today.
Motorcycles are never considered as “blocking the view”
Ponte da Cigarrosa near Encoro de San Martiño
During the summer, if you looked at a wildfire map of northern Spain and Portugal, it looked like everything was on fire. The unusually hot and dry weather, compounded by previous years of unusually hot and dry weather, meant that the forests were susceptible to any type of ignition. Fortunately with the coming of autumn, the majority of the fires had been brought under control, but the scars would last a lot longer.
But not everything was charred and dead: there were plenty of green mountains and cheerful towns that dotted the way. The weather had brightened up considerably and the group had resumed its unofficial riding order, although we kept closer together along this stretch.
Ponte da Cigarrosa at Petin “Roman bridge almost completely collapsed; rebuilt in 1577 and reformed 100 years later”
The return of Galaria windows
One of the most unadorned churches I’ve ever seen in my life
A taste of the local architecture
For Sale! Let your dreams come true!
I imagine that when this was built, the road was a lot narrower
It is amazing to think of how much riding we were getting in each day – and before lunch! We never had early starts, we always stopped for coffee, and we always had great roads. Of course on some days I eventually wondered if we’d ever stop for lunch. The late night dinners, the early morning breakfasts, the constant focus on the roads and the environment as I rode through it – at some point, I started to look forward to a longer stop for lunch. I had reached that point as we left the town of Larouco behind us: my stomach was asking for a refill and I was ready to get off the bike and walk around for a little bit. But that wouldn’t happen yet: the road had entered the Caneiro Recreation Area and the landscape was changing once again. We left the forests behind as the road rose up and over a mountain range.
The open, natural, landscape of Caneiro
The roads were fast and smooth, and with the open, scrubby vegetation, the sight lines were conducive to rolling on the throttle a little more than necessary. It felt good and I was thoroughly enjoying myself as Dan chased me through the corners. I let myself forget about the rest of the group: Dan and I were on a road trip and it was just the two of us riding through another country. The road cut into the side of the ridge and closely followed the flow of the gently sloping hills. And then we I saw the other motorcyclists pulled over at an overlook and I mentally (and physically) rejoined them.
Stopping at an overlook to better admire the view
Looking back at Ponte Bibei – a 2,000 year old Roman bridge, still in use!
A slightly closer look at this ancient structure
Lunch! We had reached the town of A Pobra de Trives, with its colorful street decorations and intact galería windows. We parked near the big church, dropped our jackets and helmets off in David’s truck, and walked down the narrow streets to find something to eat. Not that we’d have to “find” anything: Hana and David have done this trip before and they knew of all of the good places to go.
At one point, I asked Hana how she and David communicate and I was surprised at how easy the technology that they use makes it. Hana has Bluetooth connected to her phone, so all she has to do is say “Siri, call David” and just like that, David’s phone rings and they can have a conversation! So when Micah dropped his bike, David was able to easily call Hana and let her know of the situation. This is a great set up to have when the first and last in line need to be able to communicate at the drop of a hat – or the drop of a bike, as the case may be!
(Lunch parking – not my photo)
Colorful fabric hanging over many streets
Praza do Reloxo clock tower
We were eating at A Cantina Do Catro, sitting outside in the warm sunshine. It was a busy little town and the cafes and restaurants we passed had plenty of people at the tables, enjoying their own meals. By now we were getting better at translating the menu items, but this dish was so odd, it caught my eye: grilled veggies with a fried egg over fries. Huh? That sounded so wonderfully weird – and good – that I had to try it.
I’m generally not one to take photos (and share them, at least) of what I eat, but this dish had such a bizarre mix of ingredients, and it looked so different than what I expected, that I will share it here. And I am happy to say that it was very tasty and it filled the void that had formed in my stomach.
Lunch!
As it went with all lunches, as soon as we were done eating, we walked directly back to the motorcycles to continue our day. With the exception of Potes, there was never the opportunity to explore our lunch locations on our own. Not that this was ever a problem since the lunch spots tended to be in small or isolated locales. And since we usually had a short walk between where we parked and where we ate that we ended up seeing a little bit of the town anyway.
Leaving lunch and A Pobra de Trives behind, the group made its way west, following the path of the now brilliant sun. We cruised along open landscapes with fast roads, with frequent small towns set back from the road, instead of the road cutting through the middle. It was much more agricultural here and while the riding was pleasant, there wasn’t much to inspire me to pull the camera out. Sometimes I feel like I’m taking the same photo over and over with just a change in weather, so periodically I leave the camera in the pocket and focus on living in the moment.
And shortly after that, we pulled over at a view point that demanded a camera.
Miradoiro de Cabezoás (not my photo)
What a view – and full of water, too
Awesome rocky cliff walls
Group shot
The landscape leading up to the recent overlook had been pleasant – a lot like the open landscape just before lunch. But after this stop things changed: we were thrown into a deep, dark forest. The road twisted left and right, following once again (or still!) the Sil River. Not that I could see the river: the forest was thick and allowed a view only as far as the next turn.
Clam walkers
Fuzzy action shot
Normally I probably would have lost sight of the Canadians before long but instead, I was the one directly behind Hana. The pavement of this road was pretty rough; not potholes, really, but bumps. Small tree-root bumps, but also swells and dips. It was not a road to maintain any sort of speed on.
A rare good – and straight! – patch of pavement
Heading into the sun
Fortunately the road was deserted – except for the one oncoming tour bus that took more than its share of a corner. I was able to warn Dan and the other riders behind me so that they could give it the room it needed. Shortly after that Hana pulled off the main road (ha! As if that was a “main” road!) and onto a road that had more of a feeling of an approach to “something”. And it was “something”: it was the Parador de Santo Estevo.
Oh la la!
Parador de Santo Estevo
This Parador had a long history, starting as a monastery in the 6th century. That is impressive, but sounds even more impressive when you consider that we’re in the 21st century. That’s a LOT of centuries in between. But I’ll throw some more historic tidbits into the pot once we start to explore. There were a lot of informational signs around the place and it would be fascinating reading.
There was a concealed underground parking garage where we stashed our bikes. The parking garage wasn’t “underground” as much as “carved into the hillside behind the monastery”, but the point was the same: all of the visiting vehicles were out of sight. As we gathered at the front entrance I could see that the Parador was hosting a wedding party, the drone hovering overhead being a key indicator. I had mixed feelings about this: it was a beautiful location for a wedding, but in my experience, weddings also had a history of being noisy, late-night affairs. I didn’t anticipate sleeping well tonight, with my prediction of the band’s music reaching into my room later tonight.
The entrance to the monastery
(photo taken the next morning, for those who pay attention to the light angles)
View of the surrounding mountains
Internal courtyard, where they were setting up for the wedding reception
Dan for scale
The monastery was beautiful. There was so much detail and history carved into its walls. Dan and I were eager to find our room to drop off our gear. The halls were busy with other guests and I was getting warm standing at the reception desk in all of my gear. I was all too ready to strip it off and wash up!
The hall where our room was located
An old monk cell made for a very cozy room for the night
With all of today’s modern conveniences!
View from our room – across the Sil Canyon
Dressed in comfy clothes and with my good camera in hand, Dan and I left our room behind and prowled the halls of the monastery. The wedding preparations were relatively self-contained to only two areas of the grounds, which meant that the halls and rooms were otherwise empty.
Setting up for the wedding ceremony
Stone carving details
The columns have shifted over time
The weather was too nice to stay inside, even if it was historically fascinating. We wanted to get out and see what the area had to offer – including more history, I expected. I had seen some information about a trail that led down through the forest that passed by some historic ruins. Ruins? Here? I never would have guessed. Ok, just kidding: let’s go find some ruins!
The village of Santo Estevo sits above the monastery
The start of the trail looked perfectly clear on the signage, but it still somehow eluded us. Typical: Dan and I often “get lost” when hiking in Switzerland despite the abundant signage. But there are no wrong turns when one is exploring and we enjoyed what we did see. And that was the village of Santo Estevo:
“The small village of Santo Estevo, which is located on a natural area of original beauty in the River Sil canyon, conserves an interesting ethnographic collection. This village is situated next to the Saint Estevo monastery. This land of monks and knife grinders is a good example of medieval village at present, with narrow streets and interweaved houses, where we can enjoy the walks through the beautiful woods of chestnut and oak trees.”
“Knife grinders”? I didn’t get that bit, but still: it was an interesting area to walk through.
Walking up the main street of the village
My brain: the bigger the stones, the older the building
Cats were common here, and appeared to be well taken care of
The narrow road snaked its way through the village, with smaller roads darting off into the unknown. It was a rural setting: many yards had dogs, chickens or goats – and the cats were everywhere. An older pair of ladies were chatting animatedly at the side of the road with their dogs as Dan and I strolled by. As we walked further, the buildings were less frequent and the surroundings even more rustic. The forests were beautiful and more signage told us that a few kilometers further and we’d be at an overlook.
The road becomes even less traveled
Maybe if it was earlier in the day we would have kept on walking, but it was too close to sunset to commit to making the longer journey to the lookout. GoogleMaps was kind enough to provide the view that we would have had, if we had made that trek.
View of Santo Estevo from the Mirador Peñas do Castro (thanks again, Google!)
Instead, we turned around and made our way back to the monastery, this time taking a slightly different route, but not seeing that much new since the entire village was so tiny.
The most derp-looking kitty I’ve ever seen (and skittish, too, so no cuddles were had)
Different roof cat for the return
Dan and I spied the Canadians just as we reached the road above the monastery They were in search of the ruins that we had originally hoped to see and they seemed to have a better idea of which trail to take. Just as we decided to join them, Mac joined us, saying that Micah was taking it easy in their room but that she’d like to come along for the adventure.
The trail that we were following led downhill and into a damp forest. The ruins were easy to see despite being heavily overgrown with moss and undergrowth. Then again, there were probably a lot of ruins that I didn’t notice because nature had completely taken over. Considering the age of these structures, I was impressed that there was anything left to see at all. I tried to imagine the daily life of the people who lived and worked here, and how these buildings fit into that scenario. And once again, I wish that I had a Time Machine.
I enjoyed spending time with the Canadians on this walk. We had split into two small groups and I found the conversation was easier to manage. When I am with a large group of people I am reluctant to add my voice unless there is an opening, so I usually end up sitting back and listening. I generally don’t mind hanging back, and since very little irritates me more than someone who talks over someone else, it makes my life more comfortable to do so. But when you only have three people talking, it is more likely that they will all take turns. Yes, this is my problem, but at least I finally understand it.
After passing half a dozen mossy ruins, each of us speculating about what it might have looked like before or what its use was, it was agreed that we should head back. After all, what goes down, must go up – and Dan and I had already stretched our legs when climbing up through the village. Mac needed some quiet time and kept on exploring. I promised her that we’d send help if she didn’t come back for dinner.
When the rest of us reached the road to the monastery, Dan and I went inside where he returned to the room and I went back out into the halls to make sure I hadn’t missed any historic corners. I also took the time to read many of the informative signs hung on the walls. For instance, the history of the monastery’s beginning:
“The name of the first recorded Abbot of the monastery appears in an inscription from the year 918 in the lintel of the door of the Hermitage of Cachon. It seems that, according to the deed by which King Orono II bestowed the ruins of the abbey upon him, Franquila directed a community of dispersed hermits, and intended to restore monastic life in Santo Estevo.
There is also a theory that the church of Santo Estevo Atan, in Lugo, was founded by former monks in this monastery, after having to feel the area, and that Franquila was amongst them. Under his governance, Santo Estevo gained a reputation for strict observance of monastic rules, to the point where Saint Rosendo, promoter of numerous monasteries, appointed him first Abbot of Celanova, where he died in the year 955.”
A locked door hides the greatest mysteries
And then I read the too-brief sign about the conversion of the monastery into the hotel as it stands today:
“After undergoing a thorough restoration and architectural adaptation of its spaces, the monastery of Santo Estevo was converted into a Pardor hotel. Opened in July, 2004, it is the eleventh Galician parador and the second in the Ribeira Sacra.”
Ancient renovations
Art gallery
Probably the saddest thing to read about was the demise of the monastery and its contents:
“As was the case with so many monasteries all over the country, Mendizabal’s Disendowment spelled the end of the monastic life at Santo Estevo in November 1835. The drafting of the inventory was completed a year later; the goods and chattels became State property and were auctioned. Many abbey farms were acquired by powerful Galician families, although the Church managed to hold on to the temple as a parochial place of worship and later reclaimed part of the monastery rectory. The books of the library, about 1,400 volumes, met a worse fate as they were burnt along with those of the rest of the monasteries of Ourense in the Provincial Library fire of 1928. Since the monastery itself was not included in the auction, it remained unaltered…”
Ah! So many books lost forever! When I read that, I thought of the Admont Abbey (in Austria), which is the largest monastic library in the world, and imagined the burning of the books held within. What a tragic loss of history and beauty.
Admont Abbey, a photo from our visit there in 2019
I tried to avoid the wedding party, which was easy enough to do since the grounds were so big. They had a buffet of food to chose from, but we had the Parador’s restaurant, the “Dos Abades” (Two Abbots). The dining area was located in the stables – and it was a long way down to get there. With the monastery built on the side of the hill, it used every level of habitation. The stables were at the lowest portion of the building. Maybe they took the old adage to heart: “poop rolls downhill”?
“The Stables – The impressive vault, fourteen meters high, housed the Santo Estevo stables. Here, the monks took care of the mules and other animals they used to work the fields and carry goods produced in the surrounding area. In those days the roof had two levels, since various lofts were arrayed along the upper part where hay and other feed for the animals were kept. The inner wall was hung with feeding troughs and rings to tether the livestock. The part not under the vault was open to the outside and was provided with a large drinking trough. This space, fifty meters long and fitted with enormous windows, now contains the “Dos Abades” restaurant.”
Looking down into the restaurant
View from our table
I didn’t take many notes about what I ate on this trip, but I do remember that the Iberian ham and fresh melon plate I had as part of my meal tonight was particularly good. Overall, the group was very happy with the meals that were served no matter where we were. Just another bonus to traveling through northern Spain: it is a gastrological delight. And judging from the bottles that would appear with the evening meals, the wine was also something special. Dan was adamant that no matter where we were, at least one of the bottles that arrived at our table was “local” – and the Ribeira Sacra wines were reported to be some of the best in Spain. Let the glasses be filled!