Camino del Norte Day 29: Luarca to Piñera
May 18, 2025
12.3 miles | 19.8 km
When I awoke, many of the older pilgrims had already packed and left, but some were still snoring contentedly from their bunks in the municipal albergue. As quietly as possible, I climbed down from the deep top bunk and collected my things. The two-runged ladder groaned unmercifully under the weight of my bandaged foot.
The Río Negro (Black River)
The town, shrouded in mist from the river, lay noiseless in the cool morning light. I wandered down to the wharf which had been so sunny and alive the night before. Now the only sounds were the swishes of brooms on the greenish cobblestones. I listened to the murmuring river and watched a lonely gull appear and disappear into the fog.
For breakfast I stopped at a bakery called Confitería Ancomar. A dazzling array of pastries and tortas tempted passersby from the glittering windows. As I walked through the open doors, the smell of fresh bread and steamed milk greeted me like morning kiss.
Pastries and cakes at Confitería Ancomar
The options were overwhelming. I made a rule with myself that I would try something different at every bakery I visited.
“Dime,” said the lady behind the counter.
“Me gustaria eso,” I said, pointing to a flaky almond pastry. “Y una tostada de aguacate, por favor.”
Avocado toast has become one of my favorite go-to breakfasts on the Camino. As I sat in the corner window drinking my coffee, I noticed a few other pilgrims pass on the road outside. Inside, an old man sat reading the newspaper, and a group of young cyclists chattered from the bar. Nobody was speaking English, but I realized I could understand the general idea of what they were talking about.
A sweet pastry and café con leche at Confitería Ancomar
The climb out of the city was steep and winding, as it often is on the Camino del Norte. When I reached the top of the hill, the town below me looked like a miniature dollhouse village. I could see the Río Negro snaking its way through the buildings and the rooftop of the municipal alberuge where I had spent the night.
The town of Luarca in the misty morning light
Lilacs blossomed generously from bushes along the road. I stopped many times to indulge in their sweet perfume.
Lilacs along the road
The fog lifted around midmorning, revealing a vibrant spring sky that glistened in its cerulean heights.
Walking through Valdés
The path was winding and rural, passing houses, fields, barns, and hórreos—elevated stone granaries characteristic of the Asturias region. I read Proverbs one verse at a time as I walked, meditating on each verse for several steps before reading the next one. In this way, I memorized several verses almost without realizing it.
Stone house and an hórreo (raised stone granary)
The path became rocky and began to climb, so I put my little Gideon Bible back in the front pocket of my backpack and focused on the road in front of me.
Hórreo (left) and a cat basking on a slate roof
All the houses were well-kept and lived-in; no two were alike. They were all built of traditional materials like wood and stone. Many of them had slate shingles and cats, and each one was uniquely named.
Foxglove along the Camino near La Barraca, Asturias
As the path continued to climb, it turned to a rocky, two-lane footpath. Wildflowers sprang up along its edges in arrangements of pink and yellow and white.
“Herrrrlich…” I said, attempting, unsuccessfully, to roll my R’s.
The sound that Maxi and Marc could so effortlessly produce yesterday felt awkward and cumbersome in my mouth. But I tried anyway.
“Herrlich, herrlich, herrrrlich,” I repeated, singing the word in as many tones as they had. Every once in a while, I interrupted “herrlich” with magnifique, the French word for “magnificent” that Marc liked to intersperse in his conversation.
The Camino climbed and wrapped around the hill, revealing a distant view of the sea and a rolling green tapestry of farmland. The arid region and scrubby pine trees reminded me of the Rocky Mountains.
“Magnifique,” I said to the flowers.
Above: Lush landscape of the Costa Verde
Below: Spanish broom (Spartium junceum) and Spanish heather (Erica australis)
Hundreds of oxeye daisy faces beamed at me from the wayside. I smiled back at them.
“Herrlich.”
Oxeye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare) and foxglove (Digitalis purpurea)
On the north side of the hill, bracken ferns crept among the sparse eucalyptus and pine trees.
“Herrlich,” I said.
And just like that, the R’s tumbled magically out of my mouth in a beautiful cascade.
“Herrlich, herrrrlich!” I exclaimed in ecstatic disbelief.
I had finally succeeded in rolling my R’s. It was much easier than I had imagined—much more loose and relaxed. Then I started saying other Spanish words like perro and arroz—the words that had both intrigued and frustrated me for years. I was so happy that I did a little dance and sent Marc a voice recording of herrlich.
Braken ferns and eucalyptus trees on the northern side of the hill
As I crunched along the gravel trail still celebrating all things herrlich, I heard the rapid three-beat rhythm of horseshoes approaching. I got to the side of the road as a magnificent grey Arabian came cantering up the trail, nostrils flaring and tail held high. The horse and rider seemed to be a single bundle of energy and motion.
“Buen Camino!” called the rider as he passed, slowing his horse just a little.
In a moment they were off again at full speed like the rippling clouds over the mountains.
When the Camino reached the bottom of the hill, it became a dusty, open country. I was now feeling hot and tired after the climb and descent, and my feet were beginning to protest. However, I was grateful to be walking on dirt rather than pavement.
I stopped for lunch before Navia at a little restaurant called Café Bar Restaurante Villapedre. There had been advertisements for it on the trail for several kilometers, and it seemed that all pilgrims stopped here. After I finished a fabulous three-course meal (Menú del Peregrino), I sat on the outdoor patio and chatted with fellow pilgrims Kun from China and Igor from Czechia.
The road ahead
The afternoon became overcast and rainy again.
My backpack and town shoes
