My oh my....we're in July.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Went to stay with the in-laws for a few days in Galicia. Different landscape and different climate (different language even) although it’s only 2 and a half hours away. Bierzo is in a transitional zone where Castilian plains meet the tail end of the Cordillera Cantabria mountain range and a sort of microclimate exists. You’ll find typically Mediterranean vegetation (almond trees, holm oaks and even cork) alongside a vegetation more associated with an Atlantic climate (oak, birch and more rarely, beech). Galicia on the other hand is greener, cooler and mistier. All the better for running.

Sunday 10th. Went for a run along two beaches, Sada and Gandario. 36 minutes. Very pleasant.
Tuesday 12th. Decided to run along the coast in the opposite direction, but this side is a lot less developed and I ended up getting lost in a dense forest of eucalyptus trees. Eventually came out in the middle of some very nicely landscaped gardens and a rather large house. Got the impression that it belonged to somebody extremely rich and my imagination started to get the better of me. A mafia big-shot perhaps? (the Galician coast is notorious for drug smuggling). A dog started barking nearby. I immediately visualized a drooling pit-bull, eyes popping, muscles taut and straining at the leash with a Galician Harry the bastard whispering softly in its ear, “go and bite the gringo, my precious….”. Much relieved to see a scrawny little mongrel scampering behind me. Kept running anyway and shot through the main entrance of the residence without looking back. 34 minutes running.

Brian’s Shop.
Wednesday. Drove into La Coruña (20 minutes away) and paid a visit to Raizor Blue’s shop. It’s full of the finest running gear and is possibly the only place in northern Spain where I can buy a pair of the excellent Ron Hill trackie bottoms. Brian filled me in with loads of practical advice. It turns out that I’ve been buying my shoes a size too small for the last 15 years and I’ve never learnt to tie my laces properly, at least not for running. Ended up buying a smart pair of New Balance off-roaders. Despite all Brian’s sound technical advice it was the colour of ‘m which swayed it! It’ll be a shame to get them muddy.

Thursday. Back to Ponferrada. As we approached I realized that Monte Pajariel looked rather dark and gloomy for the time of day. Soon, dismayed to see that half of it was now coated in a grim, sooty charcoal which had replaced last week’s merry green cloak of vegetation. While we’d been away Monte Pajariel had burnt, or rather somebody had burnt it. The zig-zag I’d taken on the 8th was a mess and the age old chestnut trees below I suppose are lost for ever. All very sad. The track to Toral de Merayo has been spared but a monumental bite has been taken from the hillside and it’ll take years to regenerate again.