Along the Camín Encantáu: From Forest Fire to Fairy Tales (and Cachopo)

By David Eugene Perry / Photos by Alfredo Casuso
Part of our continuing exploration of off-the-beaten-path Spain

15 October 2025 — We didn’t set out to be enchanted. That’s the thing about enchantment: it finds you. One moment, you’re brushing dew off your boots in a sleepy coastal village. The next, you’re reporting a forest fire, stumbling across carved goblins in the trees, and ending the day in front of a cachopo the size of a cathedral bell.

As we drove out of Llanes, we passed the ethereal Church of Nuestra Señora de los Dolores in Niembro. It was low tide, and for all the world, it reminded me of a mini Mont Saint-Michel. At high tide, however, it’s quite different. They call it “The Floating Church” as its cemetery appears to float. We made a note to swing back by later this trip.

About 30 minutes later, we parked next to a sandy pit, site of one of Northern Spain’s favorite sports: Bolos, kind of the Cantabrian and Asturian version of bowling.” We’re one of only two cars in the parking lot, and the sandy pit is empty, but guarded by the first of numerous wooden statues we’d end up encountering day.
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We set off, with a tree-stumped framed chorus of “tragos” welcoming and cautioning us.  Trasgos are mischievous goblin-like creatures from Asturian mythology, often playful but tricky. El Camín Encantáu is all about these mythical and mysterious denizens of the waters and woods.

Los Trasgos os dan la bienvenida a la ruta encantada. No la llaman así por nada. Está repleta de sorpresas, unas más agradables que otras. Así que tened los ojos bien abiertos y no os salgáis del camino.

The Trasgos welcome you to the enchanted trail. It’s not called that for nothing. It’s full of surprises—some more pleasant than others. So keep your eyes wide open and don’t stray from the path.

At the end of this blog, we’ll list each “creature” in the order we encountered them.

The path is well marked and the initial climb isn’t strenuous, but pleasantly challenging. Even non-veteran senderistas would be fine.  The trail reveals scenery that would challenge the imaginations of A.A. Milne, C.S. Lewis, and Tolkien. As if the Hundred Acre Wood met Narnia for a picnic in Middle Earth. Outside farmhouses, heaps of apples waited to become cider.

Fields of corn frame what have to be the happiest (and prettiest) cows on Earth.  

Chapels of stone and mini-churches made from toys and twigs kept us company.

Everywhere are examples of the classic rural storage huts known as hórreos (or paneras). These are traditional granaries built to store crops like corn, keeping them safe from moisture and pests. They are raised on pillars, often topped with flat stones called vira-ratos, to prevent rodents from entering. These unique structures are a significant part of the region’s rural architecture and heritage.  We saw one beautifully restored that made me think “Mmmm…a very nice writing tower that would make.”

Within minutes of our initial ascent, Alfredo spotted an orange in the mountains beyond: a burgeoning woodland blaze. Ever resourceful, he dial “119” – the number to report a forest fire. Promptly a “real person” answered and Alfredo made his report (my hero, and now others). 

About half-way through, we came across the charming hamlet of Palacio where we stopped for coffee. The local doyenne reminded me so much of my late Grandma that I decided it was a good luck sign, so we bought a “Gordo”: the traditional Spanish national lottery ticket whose winning number is revealed at Christmas. Most every bar in Spain has their own number, and people buy a “piece” of the number.  

Three hours later almost to the minute, we were back from whence we set off.  We were tired and hungry,  and looking forward to a lunch of one of Asturia’s treasure culinary treats: Cachopo at Sidrería Casa El Rubiu in the town of Vidigao, nearby our base in Llanes. Supposedly home of “the best cachopo in Asturias” (which means by default “in the world”,  the restaurant doesn’t take reservations so we showed up at 12:45pm, when they take the rope off the front entrance. Note: the cachopo is only served to two people (it’s BIG and rich). Trust us — three would be quite happy. A digestive siesta was required after what was a meal that I’m sure ate up all of our previously burned calories. Yum!

And so, another awesome Asturian amble was at an end: an exercise in enchantment, as the route’s name implies.   Oh, a wonderful postscript: as we finished out walk, we say a a truck load of “bomberos” (fireman) heading away from the area where Alfredo reported a blaze. I’m sure out little fairy-like guardians of the forest were pleased with our intervention.

Besides the natural scenery, all along our route we encountered carved and painted wooden statues of figures from Asturian mythology. Each comes with a plaque and a personality.  Below is the full list as we encountered them.

# 1 El Sumiciu

Dicen que no existo. Pero cuando desaparece algo se acuerdan de mí. Mira bien en tus bolsillos antes de seguir tu camino, no acepto reclamaciones. Además, no existo… ¿O sí?

They say I don’t exist. But when something disappears, they remember me. Look carefully in your pockets before continuing your journey, I don’t accept complaints. Besides, I don’t exist… Or do I?

# 2 El Hombre del Saco (The Sack Man), a figure from folklore often used to scare children into good behavior.

¿Te asusté? No, claro que no. De día sois todos muy valientes. Ni al hombre del saco le teméis. Pero en estos bosques es fácil perderse, y no soy yo el más temble que vas a encontrar.

Did I scare you? No, of course not. During the day, you are all very brave. You don’t even fear the Sack Man. But in these woods, it’s easy to get lost, and I’m not the most frightening thing you’ll encounter.

# 3 “El Pataricu”

Soy el Pataricu. Puede que solo tenga un ojo, pero te llevo vigilando desde que llegaste. Dicen que me alimento de niños pero es mentira, solo el día de mi cumpleaños. ¿Adivinas qué día es hoy?

I am the Pataricu. I may only have one eye, but I’ve been watching you since you arrived. They say I feed on children, but that’s a lie, only on my birthday. Can you guess what day it is today?

# 4 Dianu Burlón

Soy el Dianu Burlón y nunca podrán atraparme. Ni los romanos pudieron, y esos sí eran listos, no como tú. Puedo cambiar de forma y engañarte para que hagas lo que yo quiera. Ay, qué tontos sois los humanos.

I am the Dianu Burlón and no one will ever catch me. Not even the Romans could, and they were clever, not like you. I can change shape and trick you into doing what I want. Oh, how foolish you humans are.

# 5 El Nubéru

Soy el Nubéru. Yo mando sobre la lluvia y los vientos. El relámpago es mi látigo y el trueno mi voz. ¿Quieres llegar seco al final del camino? Pues respeta la naturaleza o tendrás que enfadarme.

I am the Nubéru. I command the rain and the winds. The lightning is my whip and the thunder my voice. Do you want to arrive dry at the end of the path? Then respect nature, or you will have to anger me.

# 6 La Xana de Teves (a water nymph of rivers, streams and fountains)

Dicen que el oro ciega, pero si te acercas a mi fuente, quizás te deje ver un poquito de lo que de verdad brilla.

They say gold blinds, but if you come close to my spring, perhaps I’ll let you see a little of what truly shines.

# 7 El Segador (The Reaper)

Aquí hasta las guadañas están vivas. Y si no cuidas de ellas, ellas dejan de ayudarte.

Here even the scythes are alive. And if you don’t take care of them, they will stop helping you.

# 8 El Cuélebre

Soy el Cuélebre, la serpiente alada que custodia tesoros y princesas. ¿Quieres llevarte un tesoro o la princesa? Puedes intentarlo, pero ya me he comido a muchos valientes como tú en los últimos tres mil años.

I am the Cuélebre, the winged serpent that guards treasures and princesses. Do you want to take a treasure or the princess? You can try, but I’ve already eaten many brave ones like you in the last three thousand years.

# 9 La Llavandera (the washer woman)

Si me ves es que las malas noticias no tardarán en llegar. Hoy seré buena contigo, pero otra vez me oyes cantar mientras lavo la ropa mejor échate a correr.

If you see me, it means bad news won’t be long in coming. Today I’ll be kind to you, but another time when you hear me singing while I wash the clothes, you’d better run.

# 10 El Busgosu (sadly, this statue was “missing”, perhaps for repair)

Soy el Busgosu, amo y señor de los bosques. Soy tan viejo como el musgo y tan astuto como las criaturas que aquí habitan y los cazadores que aquí aguardan. Las piedras te ayudarán a salir de este bosque si te has perdido. ¿Crees que te han traicionado? ¡Lo has hecho!

I am the Busgosu, master and lord of the forests. I am as old as the moss and as cunning as the creatures that live here and the hunters that wait here. The stones will help you get out of this forest if you are lost. Do you think they have betrayed you? You have!

# 11 Manona

Qué se detengan los que respetan la naturaleza ni sus voces. Qué contienen su mundo oculto y seres mágicos.

Let those who respect nature and its voices stop. They contain a hidden world and magical beings.

# 12 Castañera

¿Habéis disfrutado de la ruta? Os vendrán bien unas nueces reconfortantes y castañas, verdad? Y a mi no ser de madera, no te digo.

Have you enjoyed the route? Some comforting nuts and chestnuts will do you good, right? And since I’m not made of wood, I won’t tell you.

The area around Llanes, Asturias is a hiker’s dream with something for every level of walker. And, of course, the famed Camino de Santiago runs along its coast and inland areas. To lean more, go online to the very well-done website https://www.llanes.es/en/route/el-camin-encantau

Echoes Above El Mazucu

by David Eugene Perry / Photos by Alfredo Casuso

Part of a continuing exploration of off-the-beaten-path Spain by Alfredo and David, including research for the forthcoming novel, Thorns of the 15 Roses, sequel to Upon This Rock.

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14 October 2025: We left Llanes at 8:30 a.m., climbing gradually through the folds of the Sierra del Cuera. A cool morning mist softened the landscape without obscuring it, revealing flashes of green valleys and grazing cattle between the switchbacks. By mid-morning, we reached the high point of Los Resquilones, a viewpoint and pass overlooking the valley of El Mazucu and, beyond it, the faint silver of the Cantabrian Sea.

Photo: The trident of the Second Republic crowns Los Resquilones, overlooking El Mazucu and the distant Cantabrian Sea.

There stands a striking trident-shaped memorial: three steel arcs painted in the colors of the Second Republic — red, yellow, and violet — rising from a concrete base.

Its plaque reads:

A los luchadores antifascistas
A los milicianos caídos en Asturias

“Aunque el otoño de la historia
cubra vuestras tumbas
con el aparente polvo del olvido,
no renunciaremos jamás
ni a la más vieja de vuestras ilusiones.”
— Miguel Hernández

To the antifascist fighters
To the fallen militiamen of Asturias

“Though the autumn of history
may cover your graves
with the apparent dust of oblivion,
we shall never renounce
even the oldest of your dreams.”

Just next to it, the cracked remnants of a Franco-era memorial to Nazi Germany’s Condor Legion, erected in the 1940s in tribute to Hitler’s airmen who lent their support to the Spanish dictator. A frequent target for graffiti, it was finally dismantled in 2016, forty-one years after Franco’s death.

Both monuments have their nativity in the Battle of El Mazucu (6 – 22 September 1937). It was here, in this same high terrain, that one of the fiercest episodes of Spain’s northern campaign of the Civil War unfolded. Fewer than 5,000 Republican defenders — those loyal to Spain’s democratically elected government — held these passes against roughly 33,000 Nationalist troops, backed by artillery and aerial bombardment from the German Condor Legion.

For over two weeks, dense fog and steep terrain favored the defenders. The fighting was close, personal, and unrelenting. But when supplies ran out and the bombardment intensified, the Republican line finally broke. Though the Nationalists took the position, their advance into eastern Asturias was slowed by weeks — a delay earned through extraordinary resistance.

Locally, the engagement is still remembered as “La Termópilas española” — the Spanish Thermopylae — a name that captures both the courage and the inevitability of the fight. As a Virginian, I’m very aware that the miasma of our own civil war still casts a long shadow 160 years on. Here in Spain, there are still people alive who remember, fought, and endured their own fratricidal horror. The wounds are still fresh.

The Ayuntamiento de Llanes and the association FAMYR (Federación Asturiana Memoria y República) continue to commemorate the defenders of El Mazucu and have petitioned to designate the site a Lugar de Memoria Democrática.

Above El Mazucu, the Sierra del Cuera is alive with quiet motion. The hillsides are a patchwork of heather, gorse, and bracken, the ground damp and aromatic after the morning mist. Ferns spill down the rock faces, and moss creeps along stone walls where birch, chestnut, and beech trees cling to the slopes.

From the air come the cries of buzzards and ravens, and sometimes the sharp call of a peregrine falcon diving across the ridge. Foxes, martens, and roe deer keep to the forest edge, rarely seen but often signaled by tracks in the mud.

Sheep and cattle graze the high meadows — clinging like furry gymnasts to the perilous heights — unbothered by us as we pass. A more glorious and tranquil hike we’ve never had. Asturias continues to entrance.

The nearby village of El Mazucu still bears quiet signs of that past. The Capilla del Ángel de la Guarda stands near its entrance, its bell reportedly forged from the nose of an old aerial bomb — a small but potent emblem of transformation from war to peace.

Here we stopped briefly at Bar Roxin, the hamlet’s lone tavern and a gathering place for locals, hikers, and cyclists. My vermut was tinted with sidra, and Alfredo’s beer was cold. We drank in the atmosphere of, perhaps, the most remote watering hole at which we’d raised a glass.

Not far down the road, a rock-face shrine appeared almost by surprise — a small alcove carved into the limestone, containing crosses, flowers, and candle stubs. Spain is replete with such as this: an ermita rupestre popular — informal devotional oratories rather than registered chapels. A cool spring, moss-lined, gurgled below the cave.

From there, the road winds down toward La Huera de Meré and La Puentenueva, crossing territory marked by the wooden signs of the Parque de las Cavernas del Oriente de Asturias — the so-called Cavemen’s Route. We passed its mapboard and trailheads, knowing we’d return another day to explore the prehistoric caves of El Pindal, Tito Bustillo, and El Buxu.

The municipality promotes more than twenty filming locations across the region, including works such as The Orphanage (2007), Los jinetes del alba, and several films by Gonzalo Suárez. It’s easy to see why directors are drawn. “Atmospheric” doesn’t do justice to the word, or the landscape.

By 12:30 p.m., we were back in Llanes. The mist had lifted; the sea lay calm. In four hours we had moved from port to peak, from war memorials to wayside shrines — a landscape dense with history and memory.

Hostage Father Dr. Jonathan Dekel-Chen on Today’s Events

I am sharing this heartfelt and honest commentary, as its author — Dr. Jonathan Dekel-Chen

— is someone whose integrity, compassion and commentary I have come to greatly respect. 

Last year, reading Dekel-Chen’s painfully frank chronicle of his family’s personal experience of October 7, I reached out to him for advice vis-a-vis a US / Israeli client of ours. His generous response continues to touch me. Throughout today’s seminal events in Israel and Gaza, and listening live to Donald Trump’s speech at the Knesset, my mind went back to my interaction with Dr. Dekel-Chen. It does not surprise me that his commentary offered below is both profound and timely.

— David Eugene Perry

My Son Was a Hostage in Gaza. Israelis Are Grateful to Trump – But Unsure About Peace.

Deep wounds and distrust on both sides will make for a long and difficult path to two states and lasting peace.

By Jonathan Dekel-Chen, Contributor 

13 October 2025

As I write these lines this morning, 20 living hostages have emerged from the valley of death and are reuniting with their families two years after they were abducted during a Hamas attack on southern Israel. So much has been lost since Oct. 7, 2023, both for Israelis and for Palestinian civilians in Gaza. There was jubilation across Israel today, notably in Tel Aviv’s Hostage Square, the plaza occupied by loved ones that became the gathering place for protests and vigils calling for the hostages’ release. But the reality for most Israeli families is more complex. As the father of a former hostage released last February, I understand both the joy and the worries.

For the families of the remaining 28 hostages who are understood to be deceased – and for the whole country – fear and apprehension abound, with more questions than certainties whirling around us. What condition are the living hostages in? How many bodies of murdered hostages will Hamas return to Israel in the coming days – or at all? Will all of this really lead to the end of the war? Perhaps not, given the statements from Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and members of his Likud party about restarting the war once all of the hostages are home. Further down the road, what will U.S. President Donald Trump’s plan mean for the future of Israel’s security and the future for millions of Gazans? If Israel or Hamas violate the agreements outlined in Trump’s wider plan, this hostage-prisoner exchange may turn out to be just another lonely moment in the Israeli-Arab conflict.

We Israelis are certain about some things. First, our society is in crisis as a result of this war, which has fomented widespread disdain and distrust for Netanyahu’s government. The prime minister has steadfastly refused to take accountability for the Israeli intelligence and policy failures that led to the catastrophe of Oct. 7. The cynical behavior of his government since the massacre – including his offensive statements suggesting hostages’ families were hurting the war effort and his continued efforts to undermine the judiciary and erode our checks and balances – disgusts most Israelis.

No one could miss the public gratitude in recent days from the Israeli public to Trump and his team. On Oct. 8, 2023, I knew that only forceful, sustained pressure from the Oval Office on the Israeli government and Hamas leadership would bring hostages home alive, if at all. Why? Because Israeli and Hamas leaders had intrinsic reasons to continue fighting.

Tragically, for the hostages and for civilians in Gaza, my early fears were borne out. The Israeli public felt trapped by the cynical actions of the Netanyahu government until Trump changed the equation by creating a situation in which Israel’s prime minister could not say “no” to the president’s plan to end the war. Seen in this light, the outpouring of public gratitude to Trump makes sense. Netanyahu has ignored our demands to end the war, which were loudly expressed in every public opinion poll and countless mass demonstrations across the country.

Millions of Israelis recognize that the Netanyahu government has not acted in the hostages’ best interests or indeed in the nation’s best interests. Only blunt American intervention forced Netanyahu to abide by what our own citizens have overwhelmingly demanded for two years.

We know that Netanyahu torpedoed previous rounds of negotiation in order to keep his government intact. But we do not know if he or Hamas leaders intend to abide by the rest of Trump’s plan. Fulfilling the U.S. president’s vision of a post-Hamas Gaza will require the United States, the mediators, Persian Gulf states and other concerned countries to keep maximum pressure on both the Israeli government and Hamas leadership. Otherwise, either player may very well resume the cycle of war.

What will happen following the ceasefire? Trump’s plan outlines a multinational effort to rebuild Gaza and it offers a promise for Palestinian statehood. For decades before Oct. 7, liberal Israelis – along with much of the world – backed a two-state solution, but this support has eroded in Israel over the last two years, with half of Israelis saying it’s not possible.

Before the Oct. 7 atrocities, I was active in the Israeli peace movement that promoted that model of coexistence from my kibbutz home on the border of Gaza. But as a member of Kibbutz Nir Oz and the parent of a hostage who was held for nearly 500 days in terrible conditions, Oct. 7 forced me to reassess my position. I believed until then that Palestinians deserved a state of their own alongside Israel. The destruction of Nir Oz by armed terrorists and civilian looters from Gaza, who were fed hate and propaganda, has now sadly given me pause about the future of coexistencebetween Israelis and Palestinians.

What’s to be done now? The first order of business – aside from feeding the people of Gaza and rebuilding the destruction – must be a focus on de-escalating hatred on both sides of the border. We must break this spiraling hatred that has worsened in the last two years.

Israelis must reckon with the destruction in Gaza. And the Palestinian people must understand the depth of the wounds of Oct. 7. Until we find a way to defuse those old hatreds, I cannot see a pathway towards a two-state solution. Perhaps finally forging that path from the ground-up, outside the realm of conventional politics, could be what emerges from these horrific last two years of war.

Jonathan Dekel-Chen is a professor of Jewish history and the Rabbi Edward Sandrow Chair in Soviet & Eastern European Jewry at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He is a member of Kibbutz Nir Oz, and his son Sagui Dekel-Chen spent nearly 500 days as a hostage in Gaza after Oct. 7, 2023.