Day 6: Back to Bujareulo
It wasn't what I'd planned but the gentle stroll back up to Bujareulo was pleasant enough, the sun still shining and the woodland still providing welcome protection.
Bujareulo was far busier than it had been a few days before. Four 'campos' (or as the French call them, Colonnies des Vacances) had made their base in the field. Day walkers from Torla and the campsites in the valley had made their way up for lunch and a beer. Children paddled in the river while parents sat and relaxed in the sun. Teenagers grouped together on the far side of the bridge exploring the deeper water. A couple of men were fishing.
The Rio Ara
St. Nicholas de Bujareulo
A sunny day by the river
The field was big enough to find a quiet pitch well away from the campo parties. Plenty of Bushbuddy fuel lay all around and the fenced off, woodland area behind the tent was full of wild strawberries bearing tiny but ripe and intense fruit.
Most of the young people of the Campos were out on excursions but some of the young teenage women that were still around came to chat and to try out their English. The bar of the refuge provided a real haven from the heat of the afternoon. It was filling up with organised walking groups, some of them English.
The campsite here is not free although it is very relaxed. About six in the evening a young Czech women — working the summer in Bujareulo — came to collect the fee for the camping. She asked for a passport for her official record and was delighted when Kate gave her an Irish passport. She rattled through the nationalities that had stayed at Bujareulo so far that summer. There were lots of Dutch and English walkers, Germans and French. There had even been one walker from Nepal (!) but so far no Irish. I didn't have the heart to tell her that only one of us had any claim to Irish nationality!
The refugio at Bujareulo. Many of the buildings in this area have these pointed
carvings on the chimneys — to keep witches away!