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Life on the Far Edge

Tromping about on Spain’s unique western shore, where fjords abound and vino is a breakfast staple
By Bruce Schoenfeld

The road runs out at the town of Corrubedo. You park the car there, walk past the battered lighthouse and over the granite rocks stacked against the Atlantic, lift your eyes above the churning foam, and gaze onto a gray-blue ocean horizon that seems to mark the edge of the world. For much of recorded history, in fact, this stretch of Spain’s west
coast — the rough-hewn estuaries known in the Galician language as the Rías Baixas (“BYE-schuss”) — was the edge of the world. The nomadic tribes that crossed Asia and Europe, most notably the Celts, ended their journeys here. They could go no farther. Finisterre, these travelers named the rocky, windswept cape nearby: World’s
End.

With the European discovery of the Americas in the fifteenth century, this dramatically beautiful stretch of Spain’s Galicia region lost its geographic distinction. But it hasn’t lost its symbolic title: By Western European standards, the Rías region is still the end of the earth. In the second most touristed nation on earth, it remains little known, especially to
travelers from overseas. Galicia, after all, has few of the high-rise hotels and other tourist facilities of the Costa Brava and Costa del Sol (though the region is justly famous for its seafood and its odd, anomalous bits of Celtic culture). Rías Baixas may in fact be the last, best stretch of undeveloped beachfront in Western Europe.

Five Atlantic ��í���� — Galician for “fjord” or “inlet” — make up the Rías Baixas, deepwater fingers that poke into the body of the Iberian Peninsula. Each differs from its neighbors in geography, history, and character: One is famous for its long tradition of smuggling; another, for its way with saut‰ed squid. But all
share malt-colored sand, granite cliffs, sheltered harbors, and just enough rough water to entice boardsailors and paddlers. Don’t bother dusting off your Spanish textbook before arriving, however. Galician, kin to Portuguese, is the language of choice and, in the smaller villages, is the only language spoken or written on road signs. Do plan on dawdling. The Rías area is
compact enough to be seen in a week. But to sink fully into the Galician way of life, consider emulating the blissed-out college students who rent cheap rooms here and stay the season, bodysurfing or kayaking by day and eating lobsters and clams each night.

Ría de Baiona

The Pinta sailed into Baiona’s harbor on March 10, 1493, to herald Columbus’s discovery of the New World. That’s about the last time the locals were really part of the world scene. Today Baiona, a squat beachfront town of two- and three-story buildings strung out over a handful of streets backed up against a steep hill, is quiet, almost soporific.
The beach known as Praia Am‰rica, a crescent of sand a few miles north of town, is especially placid, perfect for afternoon siestas. Praia Ladeira, closer in, is better for active types, with fine winds for sailing. You can rent equipment at the Monte Real Club de Yates (011-34-986-35-52-34), which contributed Spain’s entry in the last America’s Cup competition.

For the greatest beach solitude, however, follow the two-mile walking path that runs behind the local Parador, a chain of government-run hotels. A series of hidden, pocket-size beaches fronts the Atlantic just below. Clamber down to any that appeal: Under Spanish law, all beaches are public and landowners must allow access.

To get around Baiona, you won’t need automotive transport. Your feet, and occasionally your thumb, will take you almost everywhere you’d want to go. But if you do have a car, don’t miss the Zona Recreativa Chan de Lagoa, a park about three miles out of town. To reach it, turn left south of the Parador and follow the steep, rugged road, its curves offering panoramic vistas of
the harbor. The road soon plunges into a forested area often immersed in morning fog, seemingly more Scottish than Spanish (no wonder the Celts felt at home here). Watch the woods closely for herds of wild horses. Arrive on a Sunday during the summer and you’ll probably stumble upon a curro, a uniquely Galician display of manliness in which the horses
are rounded up, wrestled to the ground, shaved of their manes (with points awarded for the best razoring), and then released to regrow their hair for the next festival.

To stay overnight in Baiona, try the Tres Carabelas (011-34-986-35-54-41), a clean, cheap pension conveniently located a block off the harbor, within stumbling distance of a string of memorable bars. Doubles are about $50. But skip the rudimentary $3 breakfast of shrink-wrapped baked goods in favor of any of the local caf‰s. And for dinner, El Tunel, down the street, has
the best of the local small, succulent Atlantic lobsters, usually for less than $10.

Ría de Vigo

The largest fishing port in Spain, Vigo is a good base for exploring the coast to the north and south. If you’re staying here, get up early and walk to Rua Tefilo Llorente for the breakfast that’s said to keep the locals virile: fresh raw oysters, direct from the 6 a.m. fish auction, washed down with that morning staple, Albari±o wine. Thus fortified, you’re ready
to wander. The local beaches are south of the city. Avoid the nearest, Samil, which in the summer is often overrun by Spanish tour groups. Another few miles south, the white-sand beach at Canido curves enticingly along the coastal road and plays host to much smaller crowds. Down the road, on the other side of a clump of rocks from the better-known Praia de Patos, is the tiny Praia
de Prado. Beloved by bodysurfers and kayakers, its surf is reliably choppy but also cold. Wear a wetsuit. Afterward, head back downtown for lunch at Bar Casa Machina. Try the fresh choko, a type of squid, served in its own ink for $5, or a ration of clams or mussels for $4.

In the afternoon, take the strikingly modern Puente de Rande bridge, Spain’s Golden Gate, from just outside Vigo to Cangas. Watch for a sign that says CAMPING LIMENS; then make a left and follow a dirt road to the water, where you’ll find Praia Santa Marta, a secluded cove ringed by trees, with the remnants of an old fishing boat pulled up onto the sand. It could be Barbados
without the conch shells. An enterprising young man known only as Antonio rents sailboards and small sailboats (prices are negotiable). In summer, you can take a ferry from Vigo to the Illas Cíes, where four lighthouses, pristine beaches, and a small campground share space with Celtic ruins and a nature preserve. The number of people allowed on the islands is strictly
limited, so space on the ferries, especially on the last boat back, fills quickly. Arrive, and leave, early.

Ría de Pontevedra

Pontevedra, with its narrow, cobbled streets and heavily shellacked balconies, is one of the most charming cities in Spain. It’s also the place to try the newest, oddest recreation in the area: barranquismo (from barranco, “gorge”), which consists of climbing steep hills, sliding down mud and waterfalls, then climbing
back up and doing it again. To try your hand — or back — at the sport, visit the Estadio da la Juventud on Calle Padre Fernando Olmedo; you’ll usually find at least one young barranquismo enthusiast there who’ll be happy to serve as your guide and coach.

For a more commonplace diversion, certified divers can explore the wrecks of merchant ships in the ���, all of them teeming with marine life. Nautica Janeiro (011-34-986-84-59-67) rents gear and arranges tours. Boardsailors also do well here: The wind off Praia de la Lanzada, at the extreme northern lip of the ���, produces surf of preternatural potency. A local tale holds that women having difficulty conceiving need only wade in waist-high, lift their skirts, and let the force of the waves do what their husbands have been unable to do.

Back in Pontevedra, bathe more conventionally at Parador Casa del Barn (about $107; 011-34-986-85-58-00), a converted sixteenth-century pazo, or manor house, with a flower-filled courtyard and spacious rooms. Skip the overpriced restaurant typical of most Paradors and head instead around the corner to Casa Fidel O’Pulpeiro, a traditional
pulperia, or octopus joint. The purple limbs will be pulled steaming from copper pots, sliced, and handed to you hot. Toast the moment with the coarse red wine of the region, drunk from chipped white ceramic bowls capacious enough to require two hands — the perfect pick-me-up after a day of sliding down waterfalls.

Ría de Muros e Noia

The most northerly of the ��í����, Noia was named in honor of Noah, whose Ark purportedly landed nearby — and the local fauna, such as sheep, do outnumber the human population. The naked, jagged coastline is usually deserted, despite some of the highest sand dunes in Europe. The clearest sign of long-term human habitation is up the road,
a few miles south of the town of Porto do Son, where the Castro de Baro±a, the ruins of a 4,000-year-old Celtic village and castle, loom near the Atlantic. A stone pathway well worn with ruts from Celtic chariots leads to the stone remnants. Just beyond, in almost whimsical juxtaposition, is one of the area’s rare nude beaches.

To make exploring Noia easier, rent bicycles at the language school Escuela Iberica (011-34-981-82-01-30). Then cycle the flat roads of the coastline or head up almost any road leading away from the water. Soon you’ll be pedaling up gently rolling emerald hills, past villages lined with spare stone cottages and peopled by fair-haired, freckled Galicians — a little bit of
Ireland on the Spanish coast.

Ría de Arousa

The most crowded and developed of the ��í����, Arousa is also perhaps the most aptly named. As modern Spain’s drug-smuggling capital, its nighttime beachfront activity typically involves torchlit cargo transfer. But if you avoid the ugly condos, the mansions ceded in recent years to drug overlords, and the seamier areas of the waterfront,
��� de Arousa is fascinating and even charming.

The area also provides some of the best cycling in all of ����� Baixas, being flat, wooded, and relatively windless. The O Grove peninsula, at the mouth of the ���, has especially fine routes. You can ride for miles from one crescent of soft sand to another, cooling off in the chilly Atlantic waters.
Rental bikes are available from Ciclo Motos in town ($10 per day; 011-34-986-73-21-51).

O Grove is also the ideal starting point for a kayaking expedition around the inlet to the town of Cambados. From there you can traverse open water to the Illa de Ons, a wild, uninhabited island, or stick closer to shore and glide through the Ensenada de O Grove, a marsh thick with birds and wildlife. To rent a kayak, call Jesus Lopez, owner of the grandly named Maritimo
Deportivo y Cultural Breogan (011-34-986-73-14-15).

But the best part of ��í�� de Arousa is well outside town, at the opposite end of the inlet, where obliging Galicians have created one of coastal Europe’s most unforgettable sights. To find it, drive to the town of Ribeira and follow the signs to the Mirador (“viewing point”). Soon you’ll be on a winding, cliff-hugging, To Catch a Thief-style road, where eucalyptus trees eventually give way to scrub brush populated by scruffy bands of sheep and wild horses. Park at the Mirador and climb the steep rock steps to the top of the highest hill. There all of Ría Baixas opens majestically beneath you, a sweeping vista of jagged, bone-colored rock, foaming water, dove-gray
sands, and deep-green inland hills. A breathtaking way for the world — or at least a continent — to end.

Bruce Schoenfeld is the author of The Last Serious Thing: A Season at the Bullfights (Simon & Schuster).

Illustrations by Christian Clayton