27km 1050m ascent, 980m descent.

So at 8am we left El Titi and wandered down through more empty lanes with the sounds of cowbells and cocks crowing and territorial hounds barking for all the were worth. We passed through little villages where one or two of the farm-style doors were open and craggy women in blue flower print pinafores peered out.

It was misty and cool but as soon as we crossed the river and began to climb we hit the sun and the hats came out (well, not for Julio, he's apparently impervious to the weather).

The track climbed for a good 6k, all of it steep, requiring a few stops to admire the views, say hello to cows, catch our breath, sweat a bit... that kind of thing.

After a couple of hours we reached the crest of Les Praeres. Julio had mentioned that there was a bar there but a phone call the previous evening had let us know it would be closed. Up at the top (at about 600m) there are a dozen or more cabañas, holiday cottages and the bar opens for them at weekends. So, without coffee, we drank water and ate our tortilla sandwiches (basically an egg and chip butty, but with less bits to fall out). It's a set of meadows up there, very much a working area despite the lovely cottages. We watched a lorry pull up and the men inside take away a few calves, causing the mothers to get a bit irate.

From the meadows at the top, we had a track all the way down, and we only really stopped to bathe our feet in the river. Which was cool and lovely, very necessary.

Then it was downhill all the way into Puente Miera, where the bar was where we would have had lunch had it not been closed down. So without a pause Julio pointed up a small track and said 'pa' arriba' (upwards). Another steep climb, this time up wooded tracks, like the cobbled paths leading up and down the hills in Yorkshire. These were in a little worse state of repair though.

Julio sets a good pace in front, especially going uphill. We went up a path which was pretty muddy and densely forested but he didn't want to stop until we were out of it. I heard his glad yell of 'cabaña' as he reached the hut that marked the end of the hard part. A few minutes more up and we were at another meadow, where we polished off the remainder of our tortilla sandwiches (the guys at El Titi had made us a couple each).

We still had more up to do though, until we reached the summit pass, where there were the ruins of a chapel overlooking the valley we would be decending into. The ruin was not much more than a couple of walls and we sat in silence for a while watching the clouds come down a bit. Not quite as far as we were but enough to limit the view.

Then down another track into Espinaredo, another couple of hours. In the town they were preparing for their fiesta, which meant there was no accomodation. We'd decided we'd get a taxi to Infiesto (the nearest reasonably sized town) and while we were looking for a taxi number a couple of guys offered us a lift in their Land Rover. They'd been working in the hills, recording the limits between public areas and private. We stuffed ourselves into the car and rattled along to Infiesto listening to their strong asturian accents (where everything that ends in 0 suddenly ends in u).

In infiesto we showered and then went for a wander to choose somewhere to eat... Julio had a hankering for picadillos (imagine the contents of a chorizo, as mince) and tortos (fried corn bread)... we settled for picadillos and potatoes, and cider, of course. Later, over an orujo in the bar associated with the hotel, we looked at the weather forecast... where a big dollop of cloud and rain looked set to make the next day less than fun.  ¶ 2:27 PM