A bit sore from my recent tumbles, I didn't immediately jump out of bed and head for Gijon. My route started in Gijon, on the coast, but I was in Oviedo, 35 kilometres to the south. Getting the train to Gijon from Santander in one day had looked difficult so I'd decided to lodge in Oviedo, get a morning train to Gijon and ride back. This way I could ease back on to the bike, after nearly a month of sitting, with only a partially loaded bike. But, with aching bones and scraped legs, this wasn't going to happen right away.

So I did a bit of wandering about. Nothing too ambitious. Overcast and drizzly, none too warm, and subject to occasional downpours.

The original Camino started from Oviedo, when King Alfonso II of Asturias (known as The Chaste) made the pilgrimage in 813. This was the Primitivo, nowadays reckoned to be one of the hardest walks. When the capital of the region was moved to Léon, the Camino Francés became more popular since it was less demanding.

I went to the train station to enquire about a train to Gijon, on the coast to the north. This is where my route started. Communication was difficult, and I was sent to another part of the station when I had mentioned the Fevé train. This was back where I had arrived — and had my disagreement with gravity — a couple of days earlier. This time, I managed to find an elevator, just large enough for my bike, and arrived unscathed. No trains to Gijon, and I was sent back in the direction I had come.

I pondered for a while. A little frustrated. OK, why not ride to Gijon, turn around and come back? It wasn't that far.

I arrived in Gijon and went to the cathedral, then to a seat overlooking the sea to eat my late lunch. It was busy on the seafront.

Then I rode back to Oviedo. Over 70 km was more than I should have attempted on my first day after a month off the bike. It wasn't an especially scenic ride, two largish cities with only thirty kilometres between them didn't leave room for much unspoilt countryside.

I was tired and the hotel room was available the following day. Easy does it.

Of before breakfast and made my way slowly out of Oviedo. One long hill was too much: I spied a bench halfway up and decided to eat. Bread, laughing cow cheese and some salami to get me up the rest of that hill.

I was taking the 'off-road' option – still mainly pavement but, theoretically, some more interesting surfaces. But when I was directed off to the right, there was no trail. A fallen tree and deep growth prevented progress even if there had been a trail there. So I was on narrow lanes, very steep in places, so steep pushing the bike was no mean feat. Once away from the city, it was very pretty.

Much nicer surroundings than I'd experience on the ride too and from Gijon. Slow progress but I have (nothing but) time! :)

Pola de Lena seems a nice little town. I had a pleasant evening meal, a menu del dia, for €11 while watching La Liga on the TV. The bar, very local, was packed with those watching the football. High pouring cider, sidra, was in evidence. Nice atmosphere. A couple of nights (or three?) should do fine.

A 9:30 start, but on an empty stomache. I had planned to stop after about five kilometres for a sandwich, at a famous church or ruin but, when I got close, I saw that the attraction was off-route and steeply up a hill. I didn't see the need to add gratuitous vertical to what already promised to be a very challenging day. I enjoyed my smoked meat, edam and bread bun at the side of the road a few kilometres further on.

Progress was reasonable while the slope was still moderate, and I felt the benefit from a couple of days of rest. When the road reared up a little, that benefit quickly diminished. Or that's how it felt.

It clouded over and began to rain. I pulled over at a viewpoint and procrastinated, took a panoramic video on my phone, then returned to the bike. It wasn't a huge distance to the summit pass, only 25 km from Pola de Lena and about 15 km from where I now was. But there was significant elevation gain packed into this short distance making the ride slow and tiring. There were frequent pullouts, where I paused for breath. Never for long because it was chilly. I put on my puffy, under my rain jacket, and began to regain some warmth.

At some point, I discovered a bunch of keys in my pocket. The keys to the bicycle storage room, and who knows where else, from my hotel. Damn. Well, I wasn't going back down this hill. I messaged and emailed the hotel, telling them I had their keys and where I was; if it was important to them, they could drive the twenty or so kilometres and retrieve them.

Now, several days later, there has been no reply to my message or mail.

Lots of pushing the bike, very little riding, as the slope was continuous and steep. The outcome was never in doubt but enjoyment was. The scenery compensated quite nicely. It was reminiscent of some UK hill country memories: wet, windy, cloudy. Fine if you could keep moving and warm.

And then the summit was within reach! Here, my shoulder disappeared with the appearance of a second, slow lane on my side of the road. Yes, it saved the steepest until the last.

There is a ski resort; you can just make out runs, along the ridge. No snow left now, at the beginning of May, and my son was skiing at Sunshine, in Canada, earlier this week. I wonder how long the season here is?

Views from the pass: the Puerto de Pajares.

The railway line was originally built to transport coal from the Castilla y León side of the pass to steel mills in Bilbao.

There was a gusty breeze and it was none too warm to stick around for too long at the summit. But it was beautiful, and it was all downhill (literally, not metaphorically) for the rest of the day. And not too far, about fifteen kilometres to go. At the pass, I left Asturias and entered Castilla y León.

I stopped and chatted to a cyclist going in the opposite direction, north, and to the coast tomorrow. He planned to spend the night in Pola de Lena, and knew of a good hotel for €20. One-third of what I'd paid at the Hotel Ruta de la Plata. The cyclist kindly agreed to return the bike storage keys to the hotel for me. I had been considering an extra day in Villomanin, and catching the train back to Pola de Lena to deliver the keys myself. The rail journey looked like it would be pleasant. But I wasn't sure how often the trains ran, or if it even stopped in Vallomanin. Maybe, from León would be better? Anyway, a moot point now.

Some of the countryside reminded me of the English Lake District. Although, empty of crowds.

There was a single room available at the Albergue de Villamanin. Fortunately, because it was getting late. They put the old man in the room on his own, with his own bathroom, so he didn't frighten the large group of teens who were racing around the place. A quick change and off to Casa Ezekiel, a locally renowned – and not particularly cheap! – restaurant.