The fresh Atlantic breeze has a salt tang as waves crash in over scarred rocks, fifty feet below. The ocean changes colour as the sun breaks in and out of the clouds, taking on all manner of hues from deep cerulean blue to vivid azure and steely grey. I am standing atop the cliff edge at Cabo de Peñas, the most northerly tip of Asturias. It’s the midway point of a coastal route between Playa Verdicio and the fishing village of Luanco, a spot that marks the apex of a unique triangular spit dividing eastern and western Asturias.
It is a region that has been – and which continues to be – shaped by the sea. Asturias boasts more than 340km of undulating coastline, marked by constant erosion as the forceful Atlantic grabs and pulls at the land. As our guide Diego explains, Cabo de Peñas also marks the drop-off point at the edge of a tectonic plate, beyond which lies a deep-water trench filled with mysterious marine life, where sperm whales do battle with elusive giant squid – the 'Kraken' of Spanish maritime legend.
'In the summer of 2013, a fisherman found a giant squid floating near here and landed it at Gijón', says Diego. 'It weighed over 80 kilos'. Diego is Asturian by birth, and although he has walked and climbed all over the world, he loves this region. His passion is infectious as he explains the unique geological and topographic features of this coastline. I try to listen intently, but as we descend towards Luanco, I stare out at the Bay of Biscay and find myself imagining what else lurks in these waters.
The spectacular views and unique geology of the Asturian coast have led to a long-running campaign to create a continuous coast path, running from the western border with Galicia to the Cantabrian border in the east. To date, however, this ambition has been thwarted by financial constraints and lack of cohesion between the region's local councils – it seems a familiar tale.
Fortunately, the coastal trails that already exist here are well-marked and teeming with wildflowers, insects and birdlife, from wheeling gulls to hovering kestrels. The beaches, surrounded by rockpools that beg to be explored, have distinctive dark-coloured sand typical of this part of northern Spain. Sea fishermen dangle long rods in the hope of catching sea bass and gilthead bream, while boats bob in the swell, fishing for bonito and small tuna. Diego calls it a natural paradise – a slogan adopted by the Asturian tourist board.
Although the sea plays an important role in local life, so too does the land – as evidenced by the carefully-tended allotments and herds of Friesian cattle, brought over from the Netherlands in the seventeenth century. I learn that the local dairy herds produce upwards of 30 different types of artisan cheeses, including the famous cabrales. Similarly, Asturias' fertile soil produces grain, potatoes, beans and a host of other crops. Traditionally this produce was stored in large outhouses, built on stilts to combat the region's humidity as well as the threat of rodents. In Asturias' coastal regions, these grain stores are large and rectangular structures known as paneiras, while further south, the buildings are called hórreos, smaller and simpler buildings that reflect the poorer soil and tougher way of life.
Alongside its gastronomy, which combines seafood and local produce in famous dishes such as fabada (a hearty white bean stew), Asturias is known for its natural beauty. It's not hard to see why – as we head inland from the coast, we pass through lush, verdant forest. The flora is fifty shades of green, clinging to the sides of steep valleys. The region boasts six natural parks with protected status, as well as a national park, the dramatic Picos de Europa mountains. They form part of the Cordillera Cantabrica range, which stretches some 300km across northern Spain. These mist-shrouded mountains are penetrated by winding roads – not for the faint hearted – that seem to climb ever upward.
For our next hike, Ana Villasuso accompanies us from the Asturian tourist board. During the drive inland, she gives us an insight into the region's proud history and rich cultural traditions. Long a stronghold of Catholic Spain, Asturias stood against the Moors in the eighth century and in 711 AD a famous battle was fought in Covadonga, a municipality high in the Picos de Europa, which marked the start of the Spanish reconquista.
Today, the prestigious Principe de Asturias prizes are awarded to individuals of note in the fields of art, letters, humanities, social sciences and sport. Previous recipients have included David Attenborough, Rafael Nadal and Woody Allen. Indeed, the American filmmaker was so taken with Asturias' historic capital, Oviedo, that he has become a regular visitor. Its captivating charm overcame his well-known reticence to leave Manhattan and even resulted in Allen filming on location in the city for his 2008 film Vicky Cristina Barcelona, starring Penelope Cruz and Scarlett Johannson.
The people of Asturias are similarly proud that the former Princess of Asturias, an honorific title similar to the British monarchy's Prince of Wales, is in fact a local girl from Oviedo – a former journalist and news anchor who fell in love with a prince. When he ascended the throne as King Felipe VI, she became Queen Letizia.
Asturias' industrial past is also apparent as we follow the course of the River Nalon, where the discovery of rich coal seams led to the construction of several deep-shaft mines. The resources still exist, but the plunging price of coal in the face of competition from the Far East has made large-scale coal mining here impracticable. Today, there are only five working mines left in the region.
Although the Picos de Europa is the most well-known of Asturias' parks, taking the time to head off the beaten track and into one of the region's several other designated natural parks is its own reward. The Parque Natural de Redes is one such example. Also part of the Cordillera Cantabrica range, it is one of Asturias' less frequented areas, yet boasts some of its most spectacular landscapes.
Our day's walking in Redes, following one of its 14 waymarked trails, offers solitude, tranquillity and a real insight into traditional local culture. Long-held ways of life endure through the cattle that still roam the upland slopes, grazing among purple heather. Shepherds still check on their herds, although their traditional mount, the Asturcón or Asturian pony, seems to have given way to sputtering quad bikes. We also encounter areas of pasture dotted with stone-built shepherds' huts – majadas – that form a rustic counterpoint to the stunning backdrop of cloud-wreathed peaks and rocky escarpments. And the park's highest points reach impressive altitudes too. As I gaze up at Pico Torres, some 2,098m (6,883ft) above sea level, I realise that it would dwarf Ben Nevis or Snowdon.
But the lower slopes and cols of the range offer impressive views whilst remaining achievable, and the walking here is neither demanding nor technical. That isn't to say that the region's dense foliage can't quite literally stop you in your tracks. Even at an altitude of 1,500m you are still below the treeline, and branches occasionally snag my arms as I thread my way along a path that plunges through beech and birch woodland, interspersed with clusters of ferns and wildflowers. There are many unusual species here, including gamon or white asphodel; a tall, white flower that, as our second guide, Mario, informs us, was used in both traditional cheese making and as a pig feed.
Herds of the now-familiar cattle cross the path frequently, a cacophony of bells ringing through the mountains as they swing their heads, tails twitching. Looking up, we spot vultures and eagles. Life thrives here – it's a world apart from the bare, denuded landscapes of Britain's highest points.
Walkers also share part of this mountain range with a population of approximately 150 Cantabrian brown bears, a huge draw for tourists – mostly from other parts of Spain – who see the bears as a symbol of Asturias' untouched wilderness, as well as a unique photo (or increasingly, social media) opportunity. Although the bears are notoriously timid, I was quite relieved not to encounter one face-to-face, and thereby avoided the uncomfortable prospect of claiming a bear selfie.
Other signature species of the region include the capercaillie, the chamois and the rare lammergeier, or bearded vulture. This majestic bird, which can grow to a wingspan of nearly 3 metres, has recently been reintroduced to the Picos de Europa from a breeding population in the Pyrenees. It's an ambitious project, costing an estimated €1.2 million, which aims to re-establish this unique species to the national park. At present there are two young adults – one male and one female – along with two juveniles.
The prospect of seeing a lammergeier is a major attraction for birdwatchers, but the Picos region is home to a multitude of other birds that excite British twitchers. These include birds of prey from golden and short-toed eagles to the griffon vulture, as well as smaller alpine birds like the crag martin, snowfinch, alpine accentor, water pipit, yellow and red billed chough, black redstart and northern wheatear.
These birds are commonly found along the Cares Gorge, one of the most spectacular walks in the whole of Asturias. That's where I headed for my third day's hiking, binoculars slung around my neck, to start the 12km gorge walk from the town of Poncebos.
The Rio Cares divides the western and central massifs of the Picos de Europa, running along a narrow gorge that splits its jagged limestone peaks. A mile deep in places, it affords the opportunity to walk alongside a water channel, which was constructed between 1915 and 1921 to provide hydroelectric power to the plant at Poncebos. The route itself follows the service and maintenance path for the channel, which is dramatically carved into the side of the gorge, high above the river itself. The route from Poncebos to the village of Caín actually involves crossing the border between Asturias and the province of Castile-León to the south. A metal sign bolted to the rock marks the border.
After an initial uphill pull, I'm relieved to find that the walking is fairly level, although I'm thankful that I have a good head for heights. To one side, the path drops away precipitously, and I'm careful to watch my step. I envy the sure-footed mountain goats, which were once herded but are now feral and live among the rocky slopes and caves, tugging at scrubby grass.
Huge views open up before us, and the lower gorge is grand in every sense as the path winds high above the river, just discernible as a glistening blue thread far below. The character of the walk changes perceptibly as you enter the narrower, more confined reaches of the upper gorge. Thinly wooded gullies soar for hundreds of metres between cliffs and crags, and I crane my neck to see impossibly distant peaks framed between their walls.
The path itself, painstakingly built with pick, shovel and sticks of dynamite, provides continual surprises and genuine drama as it winds vertiginously along the walls of the gorge, crossing an impressive viaduct before dipping through arches and natural stone galleries. The approach to Caín is marked by two spectacular bridges and a section of metal mesh walkway, apparently built after part of the path collapsed in 2012. I crossed this cautiously, looking beyond the toes of my boots as the rock dropped away dizzyingly below me.
As you near Caín, you enter a set of dripping, low-ceilinged tunnels that bring you to a dam. I stoop so as not to hit my head on the limestone rock, looking ahead to a patch of bright white, which gradually grows larger and larger. Before I know it, we're beyond the light at the end of the tunnel and reach the dam that marks the end of the gorge walk.
As we walk the track to Caín, I look back through the narrow, V-shaped gorge. The dripping cliffs seems to close in and I feel as though I'm leaving a secret world behind. In fact, that's how I feel about Asturias as a whole: a place of natural riches just waiting to be discovered.
