Picos de Europa, Sotres - Potes, Spain
May 31See photos below
Day 4: The rest was much needed. There is nothing better than getting in a good sleep after an active day, especially when that active day involves being on your feet for ten hours. Waking up, we readied ourselves for another long day that would involve a similar amount of time on the trail. This time though, there was a deadline that we couldn’t miss unless we wanted to be stuck in the park for the night (which we didn’t). With that we packed our bags, preloaded the trail map on our phones, and said goodbye to the amazing hotel that I have vowed to one day return to. The morning air was crisp with much of the valley still shaded from the tall peaks that loomed above and around us. An early start was necessary again to 1) beat the heat, and 2) beat the bus. Shaking off the soreness in our legs from the previous day, we sauntered down the steep hill that led us up to the quaint town the night before. Our spirits were high, the weather was beautiful, and the fresh spring water on the side of the road was like nectar for our souls. After filling our bellies and our bottles with the ice cold water, we found the trial head and began to walk.
The pebbled path ebbed and flowed, side to side and up and down passing streams, old stone houses, rusted gates, and many high peaks. We continued walking, in awe of the views that every new twist in the trail afforded. We walked by a goat enclosure built into the hillside, with hundreds of eyes staring as we passed. Then we passed more goats. So many goats. This would prove to be a foreshadowing to the amount of wildlife we would be seeing that day. Slowly the grade began to climb higher and steeper until we reached a high point. Looking back at our progress was satisfying, and looking ahead was exciting. Far in the distance ahead of us we could make out a seemingly abandoned structure in the middle of a valley meadow. Out to our right nestled up in the cliffside was a majestic-looking lodge. I can only imagine what the views looked like from up there.
We continued on, past the lodge, past the abandoned structure, up and over another hill. Then we saw the church. With nothing around for miles except mountain terrain, this church seemed out of place. But it was beautiful, set in the foreground of such a magnificent place, right where it belonged. Clouds passed over the tallest peaks behind the bell tower. On we went past lush, rolling hills and mellow valleys. Ahead we began to see a fork in the path, one leading up and the other leading down. The lower path would lead us to a town where we would try to catch a hitchhike to Potes, our destination. The other path leading uphill, extended our time on the trail, which would eventually lead us to a road to try hitchhiking as well. We decided to keep the positive momentum going and veered left up the hill. I can speak for both of us when I say we made the right decision. It was one of the best sections of trail I have traversed in my life. Not only were the views stunning, but the proximity to cows, sheep, goats, and wild horses was dreamlike. At one point a beautiful, spotted horse and her youngling began walking right towards us on the trail. We slowly stepped aside and let them pass, admiring as they went by. Not even thirty seconds later, down in the valley, we saw three wild horses running down the hill towards a group of about fifty others. It was one of the most beautiful things I have seen in my entire life.
The rest of this upper trail section continued to amaze both of us as cows sauntered by without a care in the world. Bells around the animals’ necks clanged with a sound that I will dearly miss when it is time to eventually return home. Nevertheless, we continued on. As we made our way into a new terrain, we began a long and steady decline, that proved to be much harder than the incline from before. My knees were not happy with me. I resorted to jogging long stretches of the downhill so as to avoid the awkward motion of walking, which helped a bit. Eventually, we made it to more level ground, which found us in another beautiful mountain town with shops, restaurants, and an old Land Rover Defender sitting in the town square like a relic; or a mascot. It couldn’t have been more picturesque. After this stretch of trail that took us through town, the rest of the way would be on the side of a busy road. We decided it was time to warm up our thumbs in the hope of hitching a ride. We didn’t have to wait long, maybe fifteen minutes, before a nice Dutch couple offered to take us the rest of the way to Potes. What took 10 minutes in the car would have taken us over an hour and a half on foot. We were grateful to say the least. All in all, we hiked about fifteen miles and hitched the last three. Arriving in Potes was exciting. We went straight to a cafe for a much-deserved cappuccino and a bathroom to change. We basked in the sun at the table until it was too hot. We then made our way into the store next door to buy sandwich stuff and sat under a stone rest stop in a parking lot to assemble and eat said sandwiches. The perfect end to a perfect day. We lounged around for few hours and then caught the afternoon bus back to Santander.
With our time in the Picos ending, we were already nostalgic for the days prior and the fun we had just had. We both agreed that these were going to be core memories that would last a lifetime. For me, there is something about being on a trail far away from the hustle that truly speaks to my soul. I love it with my whole heart and I always come out of these trips with a newfound appreciation for everything; relationships, food, warm showers, an able body, and the ability to be in nature at all.
