Cain was a welcome sight for our party of four slightly worn walkers. Sweep wasted no time getting to know the locals by running off with some smelly dogs. He loves smelly dogs the most.
The rest of us mooched around the little pueblo greeted first by a trinket store with a Kodak sign proudly hung above the counter. They sold t-shirts, walking sticks, scarves, disposable cameras and other hike related memorabilia. I resisted the urge to purchase anything on the grounds that there was nothing I wanted.
Further up the cobbled path there were restaurants, bars and cafes, all of which seemed to sell the same thing for around the same prices. I was hungry at this point so my stomach was acting like a magnet to all food outlets.
Ignoring the grumbles emanating from my gut I stood in the centre of Cain and admired the peaks that surrounded it. The village lies in a natural basin within the Picos de Europa at a height of 460m above sea level. Even at that height Cain is lost amongst the shiny rocks and the sheer scale of it all really makes you understand your place in the great scheme of things.
We stayed in Cain for about an hour, bought supplies from the local shop, refilled the water packs at the spring and made the most of the rest. We were wary of time and didn’t want to get caught by the falling darkness later on the return leg or the drive back to Potes.
We set off again, ready to enjoy the views and the company as we returned to Poncebos on what is an easier leg of the the walk.
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