The panoramic view from the wide windows of my suite at the Puebloastur Eco-Resort, Hotel & Wellness — a more-than-a-luxurious destination in itself — captured an idyllic pastoral tableau of fattened herds and flocks of Asturian breeds of cattle, horses and sheep, leisurely nibbling away on a lazy summer’s day.

Closer to home were genuine organic gardens and vegetable greenhouses, a small piggery and a tiny chicken farm, perhaps for home consumption. Abound everywhere were patches of varieties of flowers — both meticulously tended and abandoned to the wild.

At the end of a sloping, wider-than-a-well-transversed mountain path, situated on a bit of a clearing in the secluded forested area, lorded over by tall gigantic trees and shrubs reaching out for the sunlight, stood the restricted church of Iglesia de San Miguel de Cofiñu.

Relaxing by a nearby solitary wooden bench, which by now became a welcoming favorite refuge after exploring nature’s surroundings, we often wondered about the origins of the chapel, its interiors, its last celebration of the Mass — and our collective minds full of queries went on and on. After all, it awards itself an air of mystery, due to its speculative history.

In time, curiosity got the better of us. With the assistance of the property General Manager Eugenia Fernández de Caveda Perez, who herself was not familiar with the chapel, the search for the missing key was on. Would you believe it led to an old parishioner, who we understood, would seldom ever leave her home? We left her in her peace!

Allow us to share some of its roots.

The municipalidad de Cofiñu was believed to be under Roman rule due to the discovery of the epitaph of a certain Ammia Caelionica, supplemented by other historical fragments from the same period. The name Cofiñu likewise originates from the Latin word confinium, which means boundary.

Experts have surmised the locality was the dividing line between la principalidad de Asturias y Cantabria of Spain. This knowledge is crucial to understand the Romanization of Cofiñu, since the only text which refers to it may be found in the Libro Becerro, housed in the Catedral de Oviedo. It refers to the temple of San Miguel — that’s right, the precise house of prayer we visited.

The same book has even speculated that a Romanesque gathering place could have existed before the structure which stands today.

Although a bit worn down in the interiors, its medieval source lent itself to several reconstruction efforts throughout the years. We soon learned a baroque chapel and a portico in the north were added in subsequent decades.

The singular nave featured a square head with large proportions, while at its foot was an open semicircular arch with a late Gothic look. As we turned, we even saw another attached chapel and sacristy!

Other standout sights included a window with two archivolts protected by a dripstone on two columns. They were decorated with fillets of tetrapetals with an ornate middle. These were ornately beautified by vegetal motifs such as leaves and flowers.

Just below this aperture was a Romanesque billet, where one sported snakes as they bit into quadrupeds. Another had a monstrous head as it devoured a human figure.

According to the historian Ruiz de la Peña, some of these pieces could have originated from the church of Santa María de Villamayor, a 10th-century convent.

Further research revealed the interiors of the church were extremely similar to the ones found in the monasteries of Santa María de Villamayor in Piloña and San Martín de Soto in Parres — much to think about.

Half entranced and half in disbelief, we finally whispered our prayers and bade farewell to this medieval outpost, which served the many needs of the communities through the centuries. However, one last look — we noticed a relief of an anthropomorphic representation of the moon. It kept us to wonder if the olden inhabitants worshiped her as a goddess.