This was a day for exploring the Costa da Morte area north of Finisterre. We didn’t have a solid idea of where we wanted to visit, so I spent some time the previous afternoon scoping out various options on the web and my guidebooks. One of the things we confirmed once in the area is that it’s hard to drive along the rugged coast — mostly there are no roads. Instead, we would drive inland and make periodic spurs to see specific towns or lighthouses. Not quite the dramatic coastline drive I had in mind, but in fairness, none of the guides said it would be. So we charted a course that took us north about an hour to our first stop, then wandered back down as time and interest permitted.
Our first target was an archeological site, the Dolmen de Dombate. I didn’t know what a dolmen was, but we were interested because it seemed related to the Celtic story we encountered two days before at Santa Tecla. Dolmens, it turns out, have a fascinating and largely mysterious history. Similar structures are scattered across Europe and indeed around the world, but no one today knows precisely why or how they were erected, nor by whom. The Dolmen de Dombate was excavated in a field about 20 years ago and is now housed in a very nice building with an interpretive center nearby. We spent nearly an hour there, listening in on a Spanish tour of the site and making our own interpretations in the interpretive center. It’s hard to say we definitively learned much, largely because so little seems to be definitively known about the structures or who built them. It was probably, but not necessarily, started by Celtic tribes around 4000 BC and was added to over centuries before falling into neglect. The huge stones stayed in place and now exude the somewhat mystical aura of a neolithic bus stop for the soul. It was a reminder of how little is known about our not-so-distant past, and also reminded me of David Macauley’s wonderful “Motel of the Mysteries“.
We ventured onward to the first of several lighthouses, the Faro Roncudo, which turned out to be a somewhat nondescript beacon stuck on a lonely point that frankly looks a lot more forbidding in the tourist photos than it did in real life. The Finisterre lighthouse the day before was more impressive. After gazing around the seascape for a few minutes, we were back in the car and headed onward.
We drove to the town of Laxe as it was nearing lunchtime. We didn’t realize we would also bump into the Laxe Festival, so we parked with the crowd at the outskirts of town and wandered along the beachside activities. There were carnival rides for the kids and a bandstand with an enthusiastic, dancing audience. We lingered for a few minutes before venturing further down the very nice white sand beach to the main part of town. We sought out the highest rated restaurant in town, the Mar de Fondo, and had a pleasant lunch of razor clams, pimientos, and calamari (though what we really went in for were the avocado salad and percebes, neither of which were available). By the time we finished lunch around 3pm and headed back to the car it was siesta time for the town — the Festival was entirely quiet and deserted. Another reminder to not mess around with Spanish timetables.
Our next destination was one more lighthouse, the Faro de Cabo Vilan. This one turned out to be a more formidable structure stuck high on a headland over an impressive coastline. There was a large fish farm nearby, windmills, and a rugged coast that went on for miles. It was fun scrambling over the rocks, and there was a small museum/gallery and gift shop that was a welcome respite from the increasingly cool and glowering day. We were disappointed to find, however, that it had no public toilet facilities because there was no water line to the lighthouse. I hadn’t really considered what an obstacle that must have been for the lighthouse keepers over the years.
From Cabo Vilan we could see across the bay to our final proposed destination, the town of Muxia. Sporadic firework booms over the town indicated that it was festival time there as well. But as Laurie and I contemplated the extra hour or so it would add to our driving, the appeal of one more seaside town and potentially one more lighthouse were outweighed by the prospect of a glass of wine and a nap. So we pointed the car back toward home in Finisterre/Fisterra, bypassing Muxia. Hope we didn’t miss much, though maybe we did.
We got back to Finisterre and enjoyed a little down time. On the way, Laurie scoped out a restaurant that Juan had recommended from his travels years ago in the area, the Tira do Cordel, a beachside place with a good reputation. Juan remembers it fondly but also remembers it was quite expensive. Laurie felt it looked good, but she was especially scouting for another wood-grilled lenguado and they didn’t seem to have it. We weren’t up for another big meal that night and it wouldn’t fit into the next day’s itinerary either, so we gave it a pass. After a rest at the apartment, we walked back down to the harbor and decided on a light dinner on the porch at O Centolo, where we’d had the nice lunch two days before. I tried the octopus, Pulpo a la Gallega, along with a cup of Galician fish soup. Both were tasty, though I wasn’t quite as knocked out by the octopus as I’d hoped. This version, at least, came out a little greasy and gummy, but as I recall I worked my way through it all with ease. Then back to the apartment for a relatively early night and one more round of Barcelona vs. Real Madrid on TV for the SuperCopa de Espana.
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