July 27th, 2008 Posted in Hold the Heights, Spain
After packing up our gear we enjoy the leisurely walk up Aguas Tuertas, the easy ground underfoot meaning we can concentrate on watching the gliding circles of Griffon Vultures overhead. Then we start on the climb to the next high pass, leading to the Ibon (or mountain lake) d’Estanes – or so we planned. ‘Climb steeply up a rocky-sided bowl with a grassy bottom,’ claims our guidebook – but we choose the wrong bowl out of seemingly hundreds. We end up wondering up and down rocky slopes for three hours before I finally scramble up some airy rocks to reach a lake – but it’s the wrong one. However it means we again know where we are and can descend and reclimb to rejoin the correct route – all extremely frustrating as today was supposed to be easy. There is compensation though; whilst far from the trail we see Izards, short-horned deer like creatures which are a relative of the chamois. They leap up and down seemingly vertical rocks with incredible agility, mocking our hours of painful attempted progress.
Helen at the Ibon Estanes
At last we arrive at the right pass and look down on the right lake, a surprisingly large and beautiful sheet of deep blue in sensational surroundings. The route traverses round the awkward slopes above for an hour before dropping down to a well-walked trail which has brought many hikers up to the lake from France – the first we’ve seen since before Isaba. We follow the trail down into France before breaking away to traverse round the head of the Aspe valley. Glancing ahead, we’re alarmed to see a section of ‘path’ further round the valley, which cuts across a near vertical slope of scree and rocky mud. Reaching it we steady ourselves and gather together what nerves we have before beginning to walk nervously across it. The first section isn’t as bad as it looked, but half-way across the original path has been taken away by a recent landslide leaving only a two inch deep groove in the mud and stone bank. The only way to continue is to face uphill and edge across sideways, using only the toes of our boots to prevent a slide into the crumbling abyss below. Helen was in front and turned to jelly at this point, saving me from the embarrassment of having to call her back if she had crossed it and I found I couldn’t. So we turned back.
Head of the Aspe valley
It seemed a momentous decision as this meant retracing our steps and then descending deep into the Aspe Valley and France, abandoning Spain and our planned route. But on reaching the road far below we gird our loins and decide to try to walk over into Spain via the Somport pass, adding another two hours to an already epic day. We eventually cross the pass and arrive into Candanchu, an ugly ski resort with fantastic views, just as darkness falls. Wandering round the abandoned buildings we find an open hostel with beds, and then a richly deserved ‘plato combinado’ – basically a feast on a plate. After such difficulties we’re delighted to have made it here. We’ve clearly become much fitter than I’d thought!
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One Comment
By The Solitary Walker on Jul 27, 2008
Following on from previous comments, I too have been following your journey with great interest – but I think you know that already. Keep it up!