April 23, 2012
East to San Vincente
the super AS-114 east
It looks similar to the Matterhorn, or perhaps it's the Eiger. I didn't know its name, but whatever it's called, its pointed rocky summit looms up in the distance, one of the high peaks of the Picos de Europa, and the glorious sight signals the morning is at last clear: the sky to the west has a subtle tinge of blue and a breeze is coming from that direction, meaning I'm hopefully not only going to have a dry day, but also an easy one as my direction is east from Cangas.
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It's after 9:30 when I ride past a pharmacy's digital thermometer that reads nine degrees. Not really short-sleeves weather, but that's what I'm wearing, plus my arm-warmers, and my chest feels the cold wind hitting it. It's a bit of a dilemma, knowing what to put on. It soon gets warm and the chill doesn't seem so bad.
The route is fairly flat as it traces a wide river valley and the road is broader than what I imagined it'd be. After about 10 km, the sun starts to shine through the grey clouds ahead of me, but the AS-114 rises slowly and then with a lurch.
By the time I've reached a café on the way to the top, next to a roundabout, sweat is dripping from my cycling cap's peak, plopping down in front of my nose, each drip forming in something like five seconds. I pop inside for a Fanta or whatever and my glasses steam up and my arm-warmers get pulled off.
Not long after the fun begins - approaching a crest, snowy peaks come into view. It's now apparent why the Michelin mappers gave the AS-114 that green border, because even with overcast skies, the sight of mountains rising up behind a near range of steep hills - which fall down into a deep valley - the road presents a glorious vista.
And then it's time to descend. Not just a kilometer or two, but perhaps twenty. My wheels keep whizzing around with me freewheeling and wondering where everyone else can be.
The countryside eventually opens out. There are small villages that are sleeping here and there, then a gorge swallows up the road and the river flowing along beside it is going fast and that's all I can basically hear - the tumbling and roar. That plus a few streams that splash down right by the roadside, some forming waterfalls that spray me as I cruise by.
The surface of the tarmac bears scars like pock marks where rocks and boulders have landed and the walls of the valley rise high and vertically in places, and for many kilometers, making me a bit anxious as with all the rain one lump of stone could drop down without a second's warning.
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The road then enters a wider valley before venturing into second gorge. Judging from my map, it's labeled the Gargantas, a name that doesn't mean a thing. Gently dropping, I stop a few times to take self-timed shots using my camera's 10-second delay, wishing the 17mm lens that got damaged in Portugal was still with me so as to better capture the panorama.
It's been sunny for a while, the clear sky enhancing the scenery, but quickly turns grey as a swathe of clouds drift east and it looks like rain is coming as I reach one of the main villages along the AS-114 - Areanas de Cabrales.
With it being time for a bite to eat, a small sandwich in a crusty roll and a bottle of mineral water from a café/bar keep me going.
The road is more or less flat entering Panes, where I opt to take a side road to my left and soon find it goes up for a few kilometers when I'd guessed it would cruise along to the coast. The sun comes out though, just for a minute or two, and then I get delivered to a one-street town.
The Michelin map's scale doesn't allow for details and the road climbs again, giving a brief view of the sea before it swings around and drops to rejoin the main road. It adds a few extra hilly kilometres to the day.
The main drag - the N634 - into San Vincente rises and before dropping, its crest offers a view of the town right beside the ocean, with an island marooned linked by two bridges and perched on the small island's hilltop is a church that resembles a castle. It could be both.
When I cruise across the first bridge it's baffling why so many people are lining the road, standing three deep, watching me freewheel by. I feel like part of some bike race.
It's windy and chilly and everyone has padded coats on and scarves wrapped around their necks and they look at me in my tight Lycra bottoms and summer sandals and must be wondering what I'm up to.
At the end of the town's street, again lined with people standing around waiting for something to happen, I ask a policeman about the crowds and he tells me a religious procession is about to start and points east, saying that it'll come from that direction and go to a boat by the bridge that I've just crossed.
A hotel is right there on the corner. I go in. A single is 35 euros. There's a dining room overlooking the street which gives an unrivalled vantage point and once I've lugged my bike and bags up the stairs I get my camera and wait for the procession to arrive.
It's slow moving, the participants taking a step to the beat of drums that beat solemnly once every couple of seconds. At the head are two lines of people dressed in what look like nautical uniforms, white, and then comes the rows of drummers, followed by around ten bearers of an effigy. At the rear are religious leaders, including a Bishop, with believers forming the bunched tail. It lasts around 10 minutes; they crawl by and down the street towards the bridge but I don't know what happens when they get there.
The bars I go in to get an Internet connection have bad music playing loudly, as though volume were the answer to some problem. I give up and it's around nine when I venture out again, this time with my camera.
A funfair with a handful of rides is right across the road, with a stage set up in an adjacent plaza. I sit in a restaurant where I can see through the large windows as I down a couple of small glasses of San Miguel, able to watch both.
The band is tight - I think it must be a recording the singers are performing to until walking up to the stage and getting a good view of them playing live. It's entertaining; the music has an infectious rhythm and the 20 or so teenagers gathered are clearly enjoying themselves. To be young again.
Today's ride: 93 km (58 miles)
Total: 2,223 km (1,380 miles)
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