Breaking Through the Clouds in the Picos
The day began in a wash of grey, a light rain tapping against the window in Potes. I wasn’t bothered. I’ve come to accept the damp mornings as part of the authentic charm of northern Spain. If things took a turn for the worse, I could always pull on my rain gear. I’ve had enough practice lately that getting fully waterproofed is now a one-minute job.
Sleep hadn’t come easy. My room, which faced the main street, lacked air conditioning, a real challenge after a sweltering day of 32°C with humidity well over 80%. I had to keep the windows wide open, which meant listening to traffic echoing through the valley all night long. I probably clocked about three hours of sleep, but somehow, I woke up feeling strangely energized, not tired at all.
I was buzzing with excitement for the day ahead. The plan was to tackle the heart of the Picos de Europa National Park, a route that even involved some backtracking for a detour to a particularly scenic spot. The forecast predicted bad weather rolling in, but I was determined to stick to my plan.
After packing the bike, I faced the first challenge: the absurdly steep and winding ramp out of the downstairs parking area. I’d chosen it for security, as it was out of sight, but now I was having second thoughts. Of course, it was all in my head. I rode up to the front entrance with zero issues. Who would’ve thought? Me, overthinking things. Never happens. Never.
The ride started on familiar, slow, winding roads. Potes sits at an elevation of 290 meters, and the San Glorio mountain pass began its relentless climb, slowly at first, then rapidly up to its peak at 1600 meters. The clouds were hanging incredibly low, and soon I was riding through a thick, cold mist. A flicker of worry sparked in my mind about the conditions ahead.
But all that worry dissolved in a single, glorious moment. I broke through the cloud cover and rode straight into the warm, brilliant morning sun. It was majestic. I kept hearing myself repeating “wow” out loud. I pulled over at the top to just soak in the vistas and snap some pictures. It was truly breathtaking, and I felt a wave of emotion wash over me. What a way to start the day.
The rest of the route was a motorcyclist’s paradise, a constant dance of ascending into the mountains and descending back into the valleys. To be honest, the roads themselves sucked. Potholes, gravel patches, impossibly narrow sections, and the usual parade of cars unable to hold their line. But none of it mattered. I was in a state of pure bliss, catching myself giggling with joy inside my helmet.
This was the first time on this trip that I felt that extreme, unadulterated fun of riding. The other days were nice, but this was transcendent. Accelerate, brake, dip in, clip the apex, accelerate out, shift up, shift down… I felt completely alive and connected to my motorcycle, the road, and the world unfolding around me. Some sections were even categorized as unpaved gravel. After an initial moment of hesitation, the old routines kicked back in and I loved it.
At one point, I sent the drone up and got some amazing shots. And naturally, I dipped behind a mountain again and lost the signal. But this time, I had double-checked that the return-to-home function was enabled—a lesson learned from the infamous Alt de Pinaro incident two years ago (shoutout). The drone reconnected within seconds. Technologia!
Another highlight was the Riaño reservoir, a stunning body of turquoise water at 1100 meters, framed by the dramatic limestone peaks of Pico Gilbo and Pico Yordas. Pico Gilbo is often called the “Cervino Leonés” (the Matterhorn of León) for its sharp, pyramidal shape, creating a landscape that feels more like the fjords of Norway than inland Spain.
As I rode further south, the weather just kept getting better, the humidity dropped, and I felt like I could finally breathe again without constantly sweating. It was a perfect summer day. The route led me through the true Spanish hinterlands, on bad but manageable roads where I didn’t see another car for a 30-kilometer stretch. It was a bit depressing to see so many once-beautiful stone houses now abandoned and rotting away, but as I neared Léon, I could feel the area becoming richer. The roads improved, the villages looked more prosperous.
I rolled into Léon tired but deeply, truly happy after an incredible day of adventure. It was so much to take in that I decided on the spot to extend my stay for an extra day, to rest up and let all the amazing impressions sink in.
Impression
