Combarro

Tuesday 17 – Wednesday 18 September

The pilot book says it would be a pity to explore this area of Galicia and miss Combarro, so on a hazy, sunny morning we weighed anchor to motor five miles further up the Northern shore of the ria, amidst masses of dolphins.  We anchored neatly alongside a large American-flagged catamaran, off the tiny beach on the Southern edge of the marina, and paddled the dinghy to land on the sand and lug the laundry up to a public launderette.  As elsewhere in Spain, it was scrupulously clean, and the washing machines were ‘pre-plumbed’ with detergent and softener.  This makes them reasonable value, except for specialist technical clothing or those with sensitive skin.

On the Wednesday, we went ashore again to do the tourist thing and wander the narrow granite-paved streets of this quaint fishing village that dates from the 1700s.  Apart from coachloads of daytrippers (get there early, before they’re up), the village features three distinctly Galician pieces of architecture:

horrero – lavanderia (alternative) – street scene – casas marineras with solanas
village square with cruceiro – passage to the bay (low water) – village from the beach

casas marineras are the fishermen’s houses, with balconies known as solanas that are bathed in sunshine, to sit and drink in the sea views; these jut out on the first floor, the living quarters above the storage areas for fishing nets and equipment

hórreos are small buildings in wood, stone or a combination, raised on stilts that are often topped with mushroom capstones; these are used to dry and store grain or fish

cruceiros are stone crosses, positioned at junctions or crossroads, where evil may otherwise enter the community; unique to Combarro, the figures adorning the crosses are usually Christ facing inland, and the Virgin facing the sea.

An elderly lady standing in a doorway encouraged us to sample her locally-produced white wine, Albariño: it was excellent, and a reasonable price.  Opposite the row of tourist-tat shops are shoulder-to-shoulder restaurants, with delicious smells of freshly caught seafood tempting passers-by.

On returning to the boat, we discovered the lines of our lobster pot had apparently been cut, and the pot lost beneath too many metres of water to be retrieved – as if we were seriously threatening the livelihoods of the locals?  During the afternoon the mist came down thickly, but we were able to see a little egret on the beach, and more dolphins right beside us in the anchorage.