Falling Back, 28. Looking at the Gods.

Today was another topsy-turvy day. It was a windy, bright fall day. In the morning, I went for a walk, and was between hot and cold, between the warming sun and the sharp wind. After lunch, we went for a drive.

We went up the coast to the hills above Muros. My husband was looking for a spot among the wind turbines from which there is a sweeping view of a good part of the west coast. We found a corner, but he doesn't think it was that one. It was a hill above Muros, with wind turbines all over the place, from which the horizon was lost in a blur on the ocean, and the Celtic Olympus of Monte Pindo frowned upon the coastal towns below.

Monte Pindo is a granite outcropping rising

directly above the coast. Down one side of it, the river Xallas erupts into the ocean in a waterfall, one of very few rivers to do so in Europe. The river was dammed years ago, during Franco's frenzy of harnessing rivers for production. For many years, the waterfall was a memory, until it was decided that on certain days, the dam would be opened a notch to let the water fall into the ocean as it used to, more than anything as a tourist gimmick. The waterfall is still allowed to flow, though I don't know on what days.

The mountain itself is shrouded in legend. The idea of a Celtic Olympus comes from ancient legends, including witches, and the fact that the top is often shrouded in fog. There was a castle built somewhere on it, which was destroyed during the populist Irmandiño uprising in 1467. Apparently, there were two other castles in the area, of which only a few stones have been found, one with an inscription in Latin condemning its inhabitants to excommunication. 

From there, we drove inland, and found tranquil villages, and even two cows going home by themselves. One of them nodded its head at us. It was a pleasant Sunday. Tomorrow is a holiday, and I hope to spend some time writing. Tuesday, the rat race begins again.

Life continues.