Stage 4; Peñalba to La Silla de la Yegua (2150m)
Sunday April 30 (part two).
From now onwards there’ll be no more potted village histories. No more Frankish valleys, Visigoth stones and Mozarabic arches. Only sweat and strain. From Peñalba upwards it is nature in its purest form. And it ain’t pretty. It’s raw. We are talking rocks and scrub and gorse and big sweeping landscapes along with a sense of space and of freedom and of overwhelming individual smallness. Let the show begin.
The first km was runnable along the path that eventually leads to Saint Genadio’s hidey hole. Then an unmarked trail leads off to the left and soon it’s brutally steep. No messing about with zig-zags here, the gradient is constant. There’s no need to use your hands but in places it can be a scramble if you are in a hurry. Although there’s no distinguishable path for most of the climb the route is well marked this year with red sticks, arrows painted on rocks and piles of stones (hitos). No excuse for getting lost then, not even in the mist.
And walking uphill is not just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. There are varying techniques. Some involve an unbroken energy saving plod from bottom to top. My method is one of short fast bursts interspersed with brief respites. I don’t know which is more effective.
Had originally intended to keep the camera in my rucksack but the temptation proved too great once I’d stopped for a breather. Looking back towards Peñalba I saw the mighty limestone cleft in the shape of a V that I’d just walked through. It was a good excuse for the first of several rests.
Up to now I’d drunk very little and as my energy level sapped it was hunger that affected me most. Cue my secret weapon, a bag of figs, strategically placed in my rucksack for the second half of the climb.
It now became progressively rockier but easier to find a less vertical route up the scree. Struggled on, head down, heart pumping away like Thomas the tank engine on speed. Sand lizards scuttled in my wake and at one point I saw a glistening silver snake scuttling sideways. It was probably some sort of viper and I gave it a wide berth. Small songbirds hid in the gorse bushes. The first patches of snow prompted more photos. Began to suspect that walking uphill for too long may produce mild hallucinatory effects. At one point I’m sure I saw a white horse (it turned out to be a rock) and then I could hear a river bubbling away behind me (it was my water bottle in the rucksack).
Passed alongside a series of snow-traps where amazingly the snow was still over a metre thick. In one place there were pint sized wild daffodils where the snow had melted. It’s a weird sort of climate up here. Struggled on ever upwards until I finally came over a ridge and one very ugly anti-climax of a summit reared up in front of me. But by now I’m not bothered about picturesque.
If in a marathon there’s a feeling of unbridled elation on crossing the finish line, in this event you get that feeling just under half way on crowning “the Mare’s Seat”. The temptation is to call it a day here and many do. If the weather is bad. skinny roadrunners in shorts and vest may show signs of hyperthermia. But it’s worth hanging in there. Things can only get better.
Today it’s sunny but there’s still a chill wind up top and I limit my stay to 15 minutes. Time enough to change my t-shirt, eat more figs and get my bearings. It’s 11:15. It has taken me 2 hours 45 minutes from Montes to “La Silla” and I haven’t seen a single person. Having covered between 10 and 11 kms I reckon I’ve averaged 16 and a half minutes for each one!
Prefer to hang around the “alternative” summit which is a pile of stones overlooking the wide valley of Lower Bierzo and with the other peaks of the Aquilianos stretching away to the west. But that is for the next stage. The romanticism of the “real” summit about 50 yards away is spoilt by a couple of antennas and a concrete hut with solar panels on top and graffiti in the Galician language. Circling the hut I read “Cabeça de egua teito de Galiza” (the mare’s head is the head of Galicia) and also “We’ll never be Spain”. For some galicians, Bierzo is the 5th province of the Galician nation. But these dopey nationalists have managed to get the name of the mountain wrong.
Climbing “La Silla de la Yegua” (stage 4 only)
Approx. distance; 5kms (ran only the first).
Time taken; 1 hour 45 minutes.
Total ascent; 1050m.
Total descent; fat zero.
Of course, I had to get back to the car which would double the distance of the two stages. Eventually I found a slightly different return route which involved a section of road and a brief encounter with a boar. But that’s another story. Felt confident descending and was back at the car for 1:30.
It all added up to a 4 hour 30 minutes half marathon!
Travesía Integral de los Montes Aquiianos
