Hiking in bear country!

Hi everyone, sorry this has taken so long - I've not had the time or enough internet connection to post until now. So be prepared this is going to be a long one because I've been on the road and I'm now in Portugal.
Now, the original plan was to leave last Monday and head to Burgos to meet up with an old friend from when I we both worked at a kids summer camp in the USA. Her friends however had other ideas - they had kidnapped her and taken her on a camping trip so I could not get a hold of her until later in the evening and she still hadn't made it home. By the time I found out it was already afternoon and too late to just set off so I spent the day doing some last minute gardening, learning how to make chicken croquettes and teaching myself how to crotchet ( I carry a crotchet needle for my dreadlocks anyway and we had wool so I figured I might as well give it a go). I also said my goodbyes to Martin and Fatna because I wouldn't get chance to see them the following day when I would definitely be leaving. The final part of the evening was spent talking to two Italian guests who had been travelling in the area. After I told them all about helpX they very kindly left me with their email address in case I need help finding work when i get to Italy at the end of the year.
Tuesday soon came around and after getting packed up and waiting for the car to be patched up (it's been having a hard time getting going and it was finally time to get the mechanics to fix it) we had a quick mid-morning snack then Pedro and I set off.
By this point I still hadn't managed to organise anything with my friend in Burgos so instead I changed my route for a faster one and headed straight for the mountains. Pedro was driving up to San Sebastian anyway so he offered to drive me to there so I could just head along the coast then down a little way to get to the Picos de Europa.
In a little town called Orio (I'm not sure of the spelling)  to the west of San Sebastian we said our goodbyes, although it won't be for too long. I will hopefully be back at least briefly on my way back to France. After spending  whole month with this family I really am going to miss all of them - including the donkey. I have had a wonderful time at all of my projects but so far this is the one I want to go back to the most, they treat me like part of the family right from the start and they are all such wonderful people. But now I must carry on with the tale or they'll all start thinking far too highly of themselves!
It only took a few short minutes to find my first lift to the next town with a couple of young lasses with their mother (I think). They dropped me off at the toll and I acquired my next lift in under a minute - literally only three cars had passed before a young guy stopped on his way to work and said he could take me another 25km up the road. He seemed intrigued by my adventures and clearly wanted to know more but we both had places to be so he left me at a petrol station and carried on to work.
After being quizzed in french by an older couple who it turned out were going the wrong way I soon found my next lift - a good day to hitch so far! The two women were going almost all the way to Santander  and were happy to share car, food, drink and - if I actually smoked - cigarettes with this new passenger of theirs. They didn't speak any English but when it came to drop off time they called a friend to act as translator so I didn't think they were abandoning me somewhere obscure.
Next came the English speaking, Pink Floyd loving driver who offered me a lift before I'd even set up on the correct side of the road. He was going right into Santander and said he could drop me near the outskirts on the west side of the city. To be fair he tried his best but he dropped me off in a truly awful spot and even when I found the right road west there was still nowhere to stand.
It was also almost unbearably hot and I was starting to feel my bag weighing me down. After 10 minutes looking at my map, possibly hoping it would zoom in and show me the way to go,  I asked the first person I saw to point me in the right direction. The older woman pointed down the road then beckoned for me to follow her - a new form of hitchhiking perhaps: I ask how to get somewhere and I am walked there in small stages by people heading the right way... it was only when she pulled out her car keys that I realised what was going on - she wasn't showing me the right road, she was driving in that direction herself! She drove me about 15km out of the city to her village then dropped me by the roadside wishing me good luck as she left.
After about 15 minutes a young lad pulled up and said he could drop me off in the next town so off we went. This was quickly followed by a lift to Torrelavega - the next big town from an expat from the south of England. He dropped me off at a petrol station certain that I would find a lift all the way to Potes (my mountain destination) from there.
Half an hour later I found a lift - two English speaking Spaniards bound for a nice little rock face nearby for a spot of climbing. I couldn't believe my luck when they, upon hearing of my love for climbing, offered for me to join them and use the spare harness and rock boots they had with them!
We spent a good couple of hours trying some pre-bolted roots. Not wanting to risk injuring myself at this point in my trip I kept to having a top rope (where a rope is rigged from above with no real chance of injury) but the other two - Santi and Herman (I don't know how to say or spell the name but it sounded like Herman so we'll stick to that until I'm corrected) went without.
Anyway, after the climbing it was pretty late so off we went in death of somewhere for me to sty. They suggested Herman's brother's house but his wife wouldn't allow it (although I did get to see their beautiful little village which was lime stepping back in time - the animals even still lived in barns within the village). I ended up staying in Santi's daughter's room for the night which was pretty kind of him.
Next morning Santo had work east of Santander so he dropped me off at the petrol station they'd picked me up from where I quickly found a lift to a better spot a few kilometers away. This lift was from a girl determined to visit Scotland mostly for the music. She plays the bagpipes herself but it's the Astorian  pipes instead and she wants to know more about the 'Scottish version'.
Once she dropped me off I quickly found a lift with a delivery man called Dani who, after a couple of other stops was heading right into the mountains. Off we went, calling in at a couple of other towns in route. We got a quick coffee in Unquera - the last town before the mountain roads - before continuing on our way. He told me about his love of canoeing on the rivers here while I tried to explain (in Spanish) about my love for climbing and hiking. At this point he suggested I would be better going to Feunte dé instead of Potes. I had heard about the place but thought it a bit tricky to get to, but Dani was going all the way there - brilliant! As we meandered through the mountains I admit I spent most of the time sitting with my mouth hanging wide open gaping at the mountains. They were beautiful, these magnificent rugged rock faces reaching up to the sky, home to all kinds of interesting species, towering over the narrow valleys and rivers. If that place doesn't live you speechless I don't know what will - I hope you all realise that soon you will be overloaded with photo after photo depicting the drive and the rest of my time there.
We arrived at Feunte dé to find its main attraction pretty busy. This was where the cheats route up onto the mountains began - the cable cars set off from here. After setting up camp off I went. If I could I would have hiked from bottom to top and back without even considering the cable cars;  with no ski pole, no knee supports and with a full knowledge of bow my knees would respond to such a mission I waited patiently amongst the holiday makers for my lift to the top.
I spent a good two or three hours on top hiking about, chatting to the goats - as practice for my next project of course - and gazing around once again at the wonders surrounding me. I also tried to take a few photos of the local bird life but they were a bit camera shy. Instead I just watched as overhead flew Griffin vultures, Egyptian vultures and Golden Eagles - perfect! I hiked up to the snowline - that's right there's still some snow in Spain in August - before turning back. The mist was coming down fast and I wasn't going to be stuck out in it. I was also feeling cold for the first time in long time and was overly keen on this fact. It was still over 10 degrees but that's 20 degrees less than I've been used to lately!
I got back to the valley floor and went to check out Feunte dé's other attraction - the bear exhibit. It told all about the local bear population, the relationship between bears and humans in the area through history and what conservation work is being done to protect them - all very interesting and I'm definitely going to have to do some more reading on the subject.
I spent my evening in the campsite bar waiting for my camera to charge and drinking a very bizarre attempt at tea - frothy hot milk and very little water - but at least it was warm. I can't say as much for the night in the tent - the ground was hard, the winds were strong and the air was freezing. I haven't had such a bad night camping since a camping trip to one of Orkney's other islands in May when it snowed for half the trip.
Thursday morning therefore got off to a slow and painful start. I did however manage to find a lift right out of the campsite. Two Australian guys were heading back towards Potes and I needed to go back there to get on the road south. They had planned on heading for Madrid originally - and I could have joined them if they had - but they were staying an extra day in the mountains and unfortunately I had to get moving. It turns out I could probably still have managed but the camping and the cable car had cost more than expected and I didn't want to spend more than I had to - I'm still working my way through the first 200€ I left the UK with and I don't want to have to use the cash machines unless absolutely necessary.
Anyway we left the campsite and after a brief driving faux pas from Dave who momentarily thought he was still in Oz and started cruising along the left side of the road we got to Potes. I wished Dave and Adrian good luck with the rest of their trip and visa vers then I went to find a spot to stand.
It took me about 20 minutes to find a lift but i finally got picked up by a mechanic and taken about 20km down the road - unfortunately most people there only tend to travel between villages so it takes a while to get anywhere, especially on the windy roads.
Next I was picked up by a couple heading about half an hour along the road and they dropped me just over the border into the Castillia y Leon part of the mountains. From there I was picked up by a second couple - Carlos and Carmen (quite funny considering my name in Spanish - Carlotta starts with the same first three letters and those three letters explain how we met....). They drove me to a town about twenty minutes further on but then examined that after that town they would be continuing on the road so they would pick me back up if I was still there.
Instead a woman stopped not ten minutes later and said she could drive me another 15km up the road to Riano. Once there I finally got around to getting some food despite the fact it was already about 2pm. I sat by the road eating my biscuits, jumping up with my sign whenever a car appeared. About 10 minutes later, to my surprise came Carlos and Carmen! Thy had to go to the supermarket first but if I was still there they would pick me up after.
20 minutes later and they reappeared and once again I was in their car carrying on down the road. It turned out they were going all the way to Vigo and could drop me off almost on the Portuguese border! We stopped just south of Leon for food and they offered me some bread and meat. One thing they didn't tell me though until I had already eaten a good few slices was that the meat I was currently eating was horse....safe to say I returned to the regular salami afterwards.
After we'd eaten and gotten a quick coffee we continued on our way. We hadn't gone far before I saw my first big wildfire. Occasionally when I was younger there were fires on the hills near where I used to live in the north east of England but they where nothing in comparison. Fields and fields of crops, bales of hay, trees all sending smoke and flames high into the sky, and one of the worst parts is that it's basically normal here.
Around 7pm we reached Verin where our paths separated. I had planned on staying there overnight but there appeared to be no campsite nearby and I certainly wasn't going to chance wild camping with the fires. I realised I was only about 10 kilometres from the border and that was when I had a little bit of a Forres Gump moment and just started walking with every intention of just walking into Portugal. Unfortunately this brief moment of inspiration was halted by the existence of the motorway - I couldn't just go wandering a the way down the motorway, it simply wouldn't be allowed. I also didn't know another route to take so instead I just found a spot, stuck my thumb out and hoped for the best.
Within a few minutes I had secured a lift all the way to Villa Real! The guy's driving was a little scary at times - flying round hairpin bends at 120km an hour but he soon realised I was unimpressed and we arrived in Villa Real at a much more civilised speed. He drove me right to the campsite where I could stay for about 6€ and I went off to set up camp and finally get a shower - something I'd been looking forward to all day.
I headed out in search of food and found a cheap place nearby. It was late and there were no other customers except a friend of the owners and none of the them some English. Instead got talking in french and the next two hours were spent chatting, laughing and eating omelettes. The friend Osvaldo was definitely a bit of a flirt but I fended him off as best I could while he and the owners tried to convince me of how dangerous hitchhiking is for a young lass on her own -  many have already tried and failed there though! I finally left the place around midnight after they insisted I pick their next lottery numbers (since I've been so lucky with hitching) and went to bed. Luckily it was much warmer at this campsite although I do believe they build these in-city campsites on top of unused carparks.
It took me about an hour to get out of the city on Friday morning, mostly because of the long walk to the right side of the outskirts. A guy called Lucas then pulled up and pointed out how bad my spot was - like I didn't know  - and offered to drop me off at a petrol station on the right road instead which was much appreciated.
I quickly found my next lift all the way to Viseu which was where I was to meet my next helpX hosts. We decided to meet at a shopping centre on the outskirts which was easy to get to and my driver - George - took me right there. I had to wait a couple of hours because Anita and Agnostiho had a meeting but I sat and read so it was fine. Although I did get a bit concerned because I thought they were an hour late - what I didn't realise was that there was a time difference between Portugal and Spain...oops, looks like I'd been an hour behind all day.
When they arrived we got a few things from the shops, showed me where I would be staying as of the following night then went to agnostiho's mother's bar for soup and fritters before finally arriving at our final destination for the night. I was absolutely shattered by this point so while the two of them, and their 4 year old daughter went to see the goats I fell right asleep.
This morning I still hadn't adjusted to the time difference so after a bit of reading - I'm now working through The Complete Sherlock Holmes Vol. 1 - we had a late breakfast then went off to milk the goats. Luckily I wasn't a complete novice - I had some experience: milking a cow...once...about 8 years ago... Anita quickly showed me what to do and although I was nowhere near as fast as her I have gotten the hang of it now. Once we'd finished milking about 50 goats - they have about 180 overall but a lot don't get milked - we had another bite to eat before Anita, Kiara - the daughter - and I went to fetch clean drinking water from the village and some vegetables from the mother's garden. Once we returned there wasn't anything for me to do so I got some writing time before our proper meal time. The four of us plus a local lad who helps out and a dutch friend who's helping with some metal work all sat outside and ate before getting back to work or writing, although my writing has been frequently interrupted by Kiara wanting to play whenever the opportunity arises. Unfortunately since I can't speak Portuguese and she can't speak English I don't have a clue what she's saying but she doesn't seem interested - apparently I'm like a new older sister or something... oh well, there's a first time for everything I suppose.
Anyhow, I must go, you will all be seek of reading by now and I'm starting to get a headache from looking at the screen for too long! Now all I need to do is find some internet access...
Until next time though -
Ciao!