Cudillero is a fishing village on the Asturian coast in northern Spain, halfway between the cities of Luarca and Avilés. Other towns and cities of the region are far grander, yet none is more celebrated than Cudillero, which shows up on every list of what to do or see in Asturias. Tucked into an inlet between mountains, the village nestles on the slopes, almost invisible from land and sea. Invisible, yet full of visitors who have found it.
The low mountains of the area make a lovely green background for the colorful houses built one above the other and rising against the mountainside. The first view of these houses is from the harbor, where visitors are channeled on their way into the town and where they must leave their car before continuing on foot. A narrow street like a river winds down the middle of the town to end at the sea. Above the village is a lighthouse with spectacular views. To reach it, you must climb the narrow stairs and paths twisting behind and between the houses. Climbing those steep paths and stone stairs is what I did in early November, in the company of friends from Colorado, a couple about my age. They were visiting Cudillero for a week; I was visiting them for an afternoon.
First they showed me their rental. As they led the way to the small house wedged in beside other small houses, they talked about getting up the steep steps and narrow winding ways with their luggage. A challenge indeed and not one you’d enjoy facing every day. No wonder so many of these tiny homes were not occupied full-time by locals but rather rented out.
My friends told me about the town. In just two days since their arrival, they had learned where to buy bread and vegetables, found the scenic overlooks, taken some walks, done some painting, and read up on Cudillero’s past. The town’s first inhabitants were probably fishermen. By the 20th century, the town had the biggest fishing fleet in Asturias. A dialect exclusive to Cudillero’s inhabitants, pixueto, is believed to come from a mixture of Asturian and Norse, the Vikings having possibly once established colonies along the coast. Some of the old people of the town still speak this dialect.
Then we started out on the walk to the lighthouse. On reaching it, my companions shared what they knew. The Cudillero lighthouse sits on a cliff that is 75 meters high. It was inaugurated in 1858. It has undergone multiple remodels. Its powerful lamp can be seen 25 miles from the coast.
It was almost lunchtime by then, and we had a reservation in town. No time to see other places of interest on the bluff. As we made our way back down the steps from the lighthouse, my friends pointed out a curious sight. Positioned under the eaves of a house we passed was a long wooden bar in front of a window, and hanging from the bar, dangling in the breeze on green cord, were what looked like desiccated strips of meat. “What is that?” I asked.
That, my friends told me, is curadillo, both the skin and the meat of a small shark fished locally, hung out to air dry. Fishermen in the area once depended on the animal. The shark’s liver provided oil for lamps, the skin was used to sand and polish the wooden boats, and the dried meat served as food when the boats could not go out to sea. The drying fish in the windows of a fisherman’s house was a sign of prosperity and showed the young girls whether he would be a good provider.
A few years ago, the stew made from the meat, also called curadillo, came back into favor and can now be sampled in most Cudillero restaurants. After a 24-hour soak, the meat is cooked in the traditional manner, with garlic, onion, peppers, bay leaf, and a little hot paprika. That is not what we ordered when we arrived at the restaurant. Instead we had scallops and croquettes.
Afterward, we strolled through the streets, poking our heads into a few shops to look around before returning to my friends’ rental for coffee. Then it was late, and I needed to be going. But had we continued to explore the village or taken the walk after lunch that leads from one viewing point to the next, we would have arrived at two scenic points—the Garita and the Atalaya. Also on the bluffs above the town is El Pito, a succession of casas indianas, those big ornate mansions built between the 1890s and the 1930s by emigrants to the Americas who returned after making their fortunes. The spectacular Palacio de los Selgas—a 19th-century complex that is known by many as the Asturian Versailles—stands out. The house contains its original fittings and furnishings, with works by Goya and El Greco as well as a large collection of antique furniture, porcelain, gold and silver objects, and crystal. The gardens are spectacular. Across the lane is the pantheon church of Jesus of Nazarene, in whose crypt stands the oldest religious altar in the country.
I didn’t see any of that. Not this trip. I live an hour away. So why do I think I may never see it? It was late then, but it is now later still.
