In a burst of New Year enthusiasm I went out for a run two days in a row.
Sunday.
Did the canal route on New Years morning. Surprised to see that more snow had fallen overnight on the Aquilianos range.
Running time; 30 minutes.
Monday.
Inspired by the New Years Day photos on the ski crews web-site . http://elmorredero.superforos.com/viewtopic.php?t=186
I felt the sudden urge to feel the snow crunching beneath my feet. Drove along the Morredero-a place to die- road up to San Cristobel which at 1150m above sea level is the last village before the mini-ski station and the lonely pass beyond.
Left the car at the start of a track which follows the contours of the hillside before descending to the marvellously isolated mountain village of Santiago de Peñalba. This forms the first section of a route which can be divided into three. The first half hour is relatively flat and then just before Peñalba theres another track to the left which veers horrendously upwards to finish after a final flurry of zig-zags at 1450m. This second section is probably just under two kms from bottom to top and then its all downhill along the Morredero road back to the car.
Last ran this way in Feb 2004 when the snow was ankle deep in places. This time its a drab, gloomy sort of day and in the end I didnt feel the delicious crunching of snow. Instead I splashed about in the muddy slush that remained on the higher ground and slid back down to San Cristobel.
Total route-84 minutes. (Running time; 70 minutes. Walking time; 15 minutes).
Hey, you managed to post pics in your post (as well as by attachment).
That's cool, but that's also why they've posted twice - once as part of your text and again as attachments. I didn't know you could do that . . .
Prof Andy will have a more technical explanation . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Think I'll lay off the photos till I know what I'm doing...
Gloriously sunny morning. I obstinately refused to re-route my round-the-river circuit despite the work on the new road bridge over the Sil and despite it being market day. This meant an authentic obstacle course complete with boulder hopping, hole jumping and crawling under fences followed by a couple of minutes dodging shoppers whilst tearing through the busy outdoor market. All good fun though.
Running time; 38 minutes. Very good vibes so far this year.
Thursday.
Toral-Pajariel route with the road bit first. Ran through the same sorry looking flock of bedraggled, mud-caked sheep as the other day. Toral de Merayo was enveloped in mist but Pajariel in contrast was bathed in sunshine.
Running time; 43 minutes.
Friday.
Set out for a jog around the park but it was full of kids on mountain bikes. Some sort of race was about to start and I didnt fancy getting run over. So I headed for Monte Pajariel. Monte Pajariel in turn was swarming with hunters and I didnt fancy getting shot so ended up improvising a route up to Otero and then back alongside the Templars castle of Ponferrada.
Running time; 41 minutes.
Unlike everybody else my long run last Sunday was a walk. And a motley crew of walkers we were too. Bierzo Baggie, Miguel mushroom, Manolo, Mrs Scouser, her brother in law and Elwyn, (back to the fold after illness) completed the line-up. Funnily enough neither Mrs Scouser is a scouser nor Elwyn a Welshman.
Must be honest here. I enjoy a long walk much more than a long run and happily sacrifice bread and butter Sunday runs for a refreshing stroll on the hills in good company. Ill pay for this later no doubt The problem with long walks is that they take all day. So Ive promised baby Lara that Ill do no more than one a month.
El Bierzo is dotted with ruinous villages. Most of them were abandoned in the 60s or 70s. All of them are remote, invariably at the end of a dirt track or an overgrown path and usually over 1000 metres. Winter hardship and lack of basic facilities (such as electricity) forced the occupants to emigrate leaving the simple stone and slate buildings to be gradually consumed by moss and lichen. Our destination on Sunday morning was the abandoned village of Las Tejedas.
Lying at the head of a deep, wooded valley you continually ask yourself why anybody would consider building a village up here in the first place. Perhaps they were hiding from somebody. Only a couple of houses maintain some semblance of a roof. Some have entire trees growing inside. In one I glimpsed a twisted iron bedstead emerging through the rubble like a shipwreck. We scrambled up through brambles to a hillock where the old church overlooks the ghost town. A couple of precariously dangling beams are all thats left of the roof and the original font was still inside along with the rotting remains of what looked like a confession box. Mrs Scouser fancied the font as a flower pot but itd have taken a crane to shift the thing.
Total walking time; about 4 hours.
On the crest of a New Year’s wave of running enthusiasm I went for a run 5 times in the first week of January. Celebrated the fact by taking the next week off.
Back to business on Saturday with a swift run around the canal. Felt good. Then this morning woke up to an inch or so of snow and just had to hit the Pajariel trail. Have done this route literally hundreds of times but running it in the snow always adds something special. Took the camera but after several photo-stops my glasses steamed up. Almost took a dip in the icy waters of the River Sil as a result.
Running time. Satutrday; 29 minutes.
Sunday; probably about 45 minutes.
Photos below. The road bit, the Monte Pajariel bit and the makeshift bridge back to Ponferrada where I almost came a cropper.
The snow came and went as fleetingly as the first almond blossom of spring. Grey days of mist and drizzle follow which dampen the soul and encourage melancholy. It happens to us all.
One of my objections to pre-dawn running (apart from the obvious one of getting out of a warm bed earlier than absolutely necessary) is that, well, what’s the point of it? It’s dark, you can’t see anything, it’s running for running’s sake. And don’t come to me with all that “no pain, no gain” malarkey or I’ll hit you back with “the law of diminishing returns”. I’m lucky enough to be able to enjoy myself on a fairly low weekly mileage so why spoil it all by taking it too seriously. Except that I know it’s not true. I’m just being lazy. And running in midday January murkiness (my working timetable allows me midday runs even if my family timetable doesn’t) is a bit like running in the dark anyway. So sod it. For the sake of common sense, encouraged and inspired as ever by the wise words of my runningcommentary.net mentors (and there have been wise words a-plenty on the forum recently), I’ll try again. And this time I’ll try and enjoy it. Now where did I put that head torch?....
Oh dear. I've enjoyed reading about these pre-dawn runs so much it's almost 2 am.
Poof! Another stack of good intentions up in smoke.
Guess I'll be late into the office again . . . :o
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
For various reasons its weekend running only at the moment. Dreamt of early morning runs all week but with no real daylight until 8:30 I never got sufficiently motivated.
Melancholy. That seems to be the prevalent mood these days and its no different over here. A grey Saturday morning went with the grey midwinter landscape. Chose to run a section of the St. James Way that according to these very training diaries I last did in May but its still a tadge too long for my present state of form.
First ran down to the river where the sleek black cormorant in winter residence scoured the water for fish. Saw her again 5 minutes later further upstream. With the foul frothy substances that the local steelworks seem to occasionally dump in the River Sil Im surprised there are any fish left at all. Then ran for about 4km along el camino. The huge nests perched on various posts, pillars and church towers are still empty and for now its a goalless draw between storks and pilgrims. A section of previously muddy, pot-holed track has been covered by a smooth layer of tarmac and ugly concrete pillars are popping up all over the place soon to be occupied by ugly concrete flats and houses (and the occasional nice one, dont want to be too negative ) Alongside, semi-frozen cabbages wait on death row in allotments whose days are numbered. Suddenly realized that the green bits in the urban-rural jigsaw are being filled in faster than Id thought. Reached the old village of Fuentesnuevas, now practically an extension of Ponferrada and then headed for home.
Running time; 69 minutes.
Forget about nations and stuff. Ive a sneaking feeling that social class and the weather determine much of who we are. That may well make me a meteorological Marxist. Death, like sex, is a pretty well universal taboo subject (albeit expressed in different ways in different places). Now the weather thats what really makes us different. And the weathers pretty similar all over the UK (cold, wet and windy) but in Spain, from Galicia to Andalusia youve got huge climatic variations. I reckon that in much of Europe and in the UK in particular (hushed voice . ) class differences have always come into play (more in Brit-land due to an early industrialization maybe) whilst in Spain its much more of a weather thing. Compare a dry Castilian temperament or Galician fatalism with that of a cheeky chappie from Cadiz. Its the weather that makes them different I say ..So what have all these sweeping generalizations and Do It Yourself sociology got to do with running I hear you ask? Not a lot, its just that it was foggy out there today and with nowt to observe all sorts of funny stuff comes out of the subconscious, doesnt it? Anyway, one lower middle class Englishman (class, now that really is an English taboo subject) went for a run in the fog. Exchanged gruff holas with a couple of overcoats on the way up Monte Pajariel. Hoped the sun would cheer me up at the top but the mist covered even the antenna. Hung about for 5 minutes hoping that it would clear but started getting cold and ended up tearing down the firebreak as fast as my steamed up glasses would let me.
Running time; 43 minutes.
Walking time 8 minutes. Today Monte Pajariel beat me but Ill be back. And in the meantime, here's a photo of a few trees.
Managed a quick one on Thursday. Usual route around the canal. This involves first running the length of our street which Ive recently been told that the locals call either the donkey track or the gypsy track. Didnt see any donkey but gypsies outnumber payos (non-gypsies) at this end of town.
Cold, frosty but sunny; 29 minutes.
Its funny. Bierzos pretty good in the sense of everybody getting along. Racisms not really an issue here (it is in other parts of Spain). Theres a big community from the Cape Verde islands which has an Afro-Caribbean type culture (world music fans check out Cesarea Evora; mournful Portuguese vocals brilliant stuff!). The Cape Verde crew started coming over in the 80s to work in the coal mines. They seem to be perfectly integrated in the community and nowadays youre starting to see a fair few mixed race couples amongst the kids. One of our best local runners is Pablo, a second generation Cape Verde lad and then theres Valdo from nearby Villablino whos playing in La Liga for high fliers Osasuna (and was injured by nasty little Roberto Carlos the other day incidentally). Ponferradas last carnival queen was a Cape Verde girl.
But the gypsies always remain on the periphery, as they have done for generations.
The overnight temperature dropped to -6ºC but the morning was pleasant for running. Cold, sunny, icy and with a thin layer of snow remaining in places. Decided to repeat the longish route around Monte Pajariel last done at the end of December. This involves a 25 minute uphill section where I entertained myself by trying to identify animal tracks in the snow. Walking companion and one-time running partner Miguel mushroom is the undisputed expert in this department. Hell also recognize an impressive range of animal excrements.
Dis is fox sheet. De fox always sheet on a stone.
Once whilst out walking we came across a colony of bats in an old, abandoned water-mill. Only MM had the trained eye to spot the miniscule bat droppings falling like confetti from the gruesome creatures.
Loook, de bats are sheeting never I see de bats sheeting
An array of tracks criss-crossed the forest trail this morning. Boar? Deer? Rabbits? Hunting dogs? Without MM around I could never really be sure.
Dropped steeply into the valley behind Monte Pajariel before hitting tarmac at Toral de Merayo and running the last 20 minutes along the road.
Running time; 68 minutes.
Time for a swift one this morning.
Not a lot to report.
Sunny but cold enough for gloves.
Nobody about except for a couple of council workers scraping ice off the pavements with shovels.
Out via the gypsy track and back via the canal.
29 minutes.
mmmm....don't know why it came out twice though.
and I'm just into lazy self-justification, errr, and I didn't make that early morning run..